"Exactly! This has come upon me so unexpectedly that really I hardly know what is happening. I only came to the office to inform you of Silas' death, Joe, in case you shouldn't have heard about it. I'm going up to Cliff House immediately to see my great-aunt and to make the—er—the necessary arrangements." He glanced at his wrist watch. "Yes, I see I'm late already. I have to pick my wife up on the way. I shall have to ask you to excuse me."
He hurried away. Oscar Roberts sat still, with his long legs crossed, a faint, imperturbable smile on his lips. Paul Mansell said with an unpleasant ring in his voice: "So that's how it's going to be, is it?"
Joe had been standing rather foolishly gazing at the door through which Clement had gone, but he turned as his son spoke and said robustly: "Nonsense, my boy, nonsense! It's very natural he should feel all at sea just at first. Mr. Roberts quite understands that."
"Sure," said Roberts amiably. "I don't want to hurry him unreasonably. You know my position, Mr. Mansell. I want the best I can get for my firm, and you make the best. If I can fix things with you I'll be glad to do so; if I can't—well, I'll have to negotiate with the next-best."
"Quite, quite!" Joe said. "We fully appreciate your position, and I think I may say—yes, I am sure I may say—that we shall be able to give you a definite answer at no very distant date."
On this note of optimism they parted. No sooner had Oscar Roberts left the room than Paul said furiously: "The damned skunk! I suppose you see what's going to happen now he's got his hands on the moneybags?"
"We mustn't leap to conclusions," Joe said. "He hasn't had time to find his feet yet, that's all it is."
"Oh, that's all it is, is it?" Paul said. "Just hasn't found his feet! Well, if you ask me, he is finding them a dam' sight too quickly! When I think that we've got rid of that old fool Silas only to find Master Clement—"
"Paul, my boy! Paul!" Joe interrupted, losing a little of his high colour, "You're talking very wildly—very wildly indeed!"
"Yes, and I feel wild!" his son threw back at him. "Like a fool I thought that if once Silas was out of the way we could see our way clear. Now we've got a—"
Joe brought his open hand down upon the desk between them. "Hold your tongue!" He saw Paul staring at him and said in a milder voice: "It's very tiresome; but I don't despair of Clement by any means. He'll come round. Why, he's been in favour of the scheme all along! But this—this tragic business of Silas' death— My dear boy, you can't be too careful what you say. Anyone hearing you might well wonder—"
"Whether I had anything to do with Silas' death?" Paul said, looking him in the eye.
Joe made a gesture with one hand. "Of course, it would be a preposterous idea; but we don't want to give people the least cause to suspect that we did want him dead. And when you talk of having believed that once he was out of the way—well, it's injudicious, my boy, extremely injudicious!"
Paul lit a cigarette and flicked the match into the grate. "Naturally I only meant that we've heard so much about Silas' weak heart that I couldn't help envisaging the possibility of his death."
"Naturally, naturally!" Joe agreed. "But though the very notion is absurd, one has to be careful. There's bound to be an inquiry, and one doesn't want the least hint of suspicion—not that any sane person could possibly imagine for a moment—"
"Well," said Paul blandly, "if the police suspect foul play, I fancy they'll be more interested in Clement's movements last night than in mine." He paused and inhaled a deep breath of smoke. "What makes you think there was foul play, Dad?"
Joe started. "I? Good God, I don't think it! Nothing of the sort! Nobody could think such a thing! Nobody who knew Silas!"
He was wrong. Mr. Timothy Harte, having spent an awe-inspiring hour watching the proceedings of the police, inspecting the scene of the accident, and cross-examining Pritchard and Ogle, told Miss Allison that he was now quite sure that Silas had been bumped off.
Miss Allison took instant exception to this vulgar and unfeeling expression and said that he was talking nonsense.
He looked her over with a sapient eye. "You can say it's nonsense if you like, but, all the same, I bet you think it was murder."
"I do not!" said Patricia emphatically. "I think it's all absolutely horrible, and that you're making it worse by trying to turn it into a cheap thriller." She walked away from him, up the stairs to Mrs. Kane's rooms, conscious of a faint wish that Mr. James Kane was present to quell his stepbrother.
She was a young woman not easily shaken out of her calm, but the events of this fateful day were, she suspected, a trifle on her nerves. Policemen and ambulances, official questions, servants whispering together, and a general atmosphere of surmise and suspicion were not conducive to a calm frame of mind. Nor was relief to be found in Mrs. Kane's presence.
Emily was in her own sitting room, motionless in a straight-backed armchair, staring before her with blank, cold eyes, her shrunken mouth compressed, as though guarding secrets. Miss Allison knew herself to be overwrought when an odd fancy seized her that there was something ruthless about her employer.
Emily brought her gaze slowly to bear upon Miss Allison's face. "Well?" she said. "So they've taken him away?"
"Yes," replied Patricia.
"Nice scandal!" Emily said. "Inquests! Post-mortems! My husband would turn in his grave!"
"It's very unpleasant," agreed Patricia. "But it's only a matter of form."
Emily looked at her queerly. "It is, is it?"
Coming immediately after Timothy's sinister pronouncements, this grim utterance made Patricia feel uncomfortable. She met Emily's look and said after a moment: "What do you mean, Mrs. Kane? What are you thinking?"
"I?" said Emily sharply. "I don't think anything. All I know is that my son is dead. What I think won't bring him to life again. Yes, what is it?"
Ogle, in the doorway, brought the news of Mr. And Mrs. Clement Kane's arrival. Emily gave a short laugh and said: "Show them up." To Patricia she added brusquely: "You needn't go. In fact, you're to stay."
In a few minutes Ogle ushered the Clement Kanes into the room. Rosemary was wearing a blue linen frock, but Clement had found time to procure a black armband. Emily observed this immediately and said: "I'd like to know what you've got to mourn about!"
This was not a very promising start to the interview.
Clement replied that to wear an armband was usual, a mark of respect. He tried to make a speech of condolence but was interrupted before he had uttered half-a-dozen words. "Never mind that!" Emily said. "I don't want your sympathy. I don't want anyone's sympathy, if it comes to that."
"I think I should feel like that too," remarked Rosemary critically.
"You?" said Emily. "You'd spend a twelvemonth telling everyone what your emotions were. I know you!"
Rosemary took this in very good part, merely saying with a certain amount of interest, "I wonder if I should? Do you think I analyse myself too much? With my type that's always a danger, of course."
Miss Allison felt that Rosemary came off the best from this encounter. Emily could only glare at her, folding her lips more tightly than ever.
Clement, always ill at ease in his great-aunt's presence, began to speak of future plans. Miss Allison guessed, when he said that he knew Emily would not wish to be alone in the house, that Rosemary had made up her mind to move into Cliff House immediately.
She dreaded an explosion from Emily, but Emily heard Clement out in unencouraging silence. Watching her, Miss Allison felt that behind the mask of age Emily's brain was working hard. There was something rather terrible about this stout, alert old lady who sat so still and looked so bleakly out of eyes that were arctic-blue and expressionless.
"Of course," Clement was saying, "we only wish to do what will be most agreeable to you: that goes without saying. But naturally I know how much supervision an estate entails, and it seemed to me—that is to say, I wondered—whether you might not prefer us not to wait for probate—which, you know, may take some time—but to come and stay with you as soon as possible."