She fixed him with one of her blank stares. "Pray, who said it was not?"
Timothy, scenting an ally, said: "I do."
Emily looked at him. "You do, do you? And why?"
"Well, partly because he was so frightfully rich, and partly because I had an instinct there was going to be a murder."
The word sounded ugly. Clement's eyes snapped behind his pince-nez; he said in an angry voice: "How dare you say such a thing? It seems to me you let your stupid imagination run away with you! I thought you were old enough to know better."
"Leave the boy alone," said Emily. "He's entitled to his opinion as much as you are to yours. So my son was murdered, was he, Timothy?"
"Well, I don't absolutely know he was," replied Timothy with a touch of caution, "but I do think it looks jolly suspicious. What's more, I'm pretty sure Mr. Roberts thinks so too."
"Roberts!" Clement exclaimed. "What has Roberts to do with it? You've no right to discuss this affair with a stranger! Really, I think it high time Jim came down and took you in hand!"
But Mr. James Kane, when he arrived, three days after Clement and Rosemary had taken up their residence at Cliff House, showed little disposition to take his stepbrother in hand. His energies were concentrated upon Miss Allison, who had had by that time such a surfeit of the Clement Kanes, Paul Mansell and Mr. Trevor Dermott that she greeted him with unfeigned pleasure. This circumstance led Mr. James Kane to leap to unwarrantable conclusions. He had the audacity to catch Miss Allison up in his arms and to kiss her, not once but several times. Miss Allison, apparently decided that it would be useless to struggle with anyone so large and muscular. She submitted to Mr. James Kane's rough handling, merely remarking as soon as she was able that she very much disliked people who grabbed ells when offered inches.
Mr. Kane only laughed, so Miss Allison, setting her hands against his chest and pushing hard, explained severely that her gladness at seeing him arose purely from boredom.
"My poor dear," said Mr. Kane lovingly.
"For goodness' sake let me go!" begged Miss Allison. "What on earth would anyone think if they saw us?"
"They'd think we were going to be married, and they'd be right," replied Mr. Kane.
"They'd be far more likely to think you were philandering with your great-aunt's companion," retorted Miss Allison.
"Vulgar little cat!" said Mr. Kane, tucking her hand in his arm. "Now that we've settled that, tell me what's been going on here."
"Nothing much. You saw pretty well what it was like at the funeral, didn't you?"
"General impression of piety, that's all. Who's got on your nerves? Rosemary?"
"No, your repulsive little brother. You'll have to sit on him. He will go about looking for clues and saying Mr. Kane was murdered."
Jim looked interested. "Really? What put that into his head?"
"The films he sees, of course. I do what I can to squash him, but Mrs. Kane encourages him, and so does Mr. Roberts—at least, I don't know that he actually encourages him, but I've got an uncomfortable feeling that he suspects Timothy's right."
"Half a shake!" Jim interposed. "Who is Roberts? Do I know him?"
"No, I shouldn't think so. He's the agent for the Australian firm which wants to do business with Kane and Mansell. Rather nice, and awfully decent to Timothy. They struck up an acquaintance after Mr. Kane's death. Timothy invites him here, and Clement dodges him when he comes."
"Why?"
"I don't know. Timothy, I hardly need say, has a theory that Mr. Roberts is on to something and Clement's afraid to meet him. Actually, I expect it's because Clement doesn't want to be badgered about the Australian business."
"Timothy seems to be doing what he can to liven things up," commented Jim. He had guided Miss Allison across the lawn towards a seat under a big elm tree and now invited her to sit down. Taking his place beside her, he said with an appraising look cast at her profile: "Come on, my love, tell me what's the matter."
She was silent for a moment. He possessed himself of her hand. "Let me remind you that the keynote to a successful marriage is Mutual Confidence."
She smiled at that. "I dare say. I think I've probably exaggerated things in my mind. It—it just seems to me that people are behaving rather abnormally. There's a certain atmosphere in the house—well, you'll see for yourself."
She refused to be more explicit, but there was much that she might have told her betrothed.
There was the attitude adopted by Emily. Emily hated Clement, yet when he had proposed moving to Cliff House immediately, she had not demurred. She had acquiesced, and since his arrival she had ceased to snap at him. Patricia had no fault to find with this, but when she saw Emily looking at Clement she knew that the implacable old lady resented his presence and would always resent it. But after her first outburst she had not spoken again of her dislike, nor had she uttered one word in criticism of Clement's wife. Only she watched them both, her face wooden in its impassivity.
Clement seemed to Miss Allison to be ill at ease, but she thought the new responsibilities resting on his shoulders might account for this. He was often irritable; he fidgeted, frowned, grew querulous over trifles, and looked more harassed than ever. He complained of his partners' stupidity once or twice; it was as though he invited Emily to comment on the firm's policy, perhaps to support him with her ruthless certainty.
Miss Allison saw him as a weak man, mistrusting his own judgment, needing the approval of a stronger character before he could be brought to make a decision.
It was plain that he could expect no help from Rosemary. Rosemary was passing through an emotional crisis. She told Patricia that she had reached a turning point in her life, and that it was tearing her in two. Patricia was uncharitable enough to suspect that she was revelling in the drama she had created, and received this piece of information with a marked lack of sympathy.
What sympathy she felt was for Clement and for Trevor Dermott, both helpless in the snare of Rosemary's beauty, but her pity for them was charged with contempt. She thought them fools to be slaves to Rosemary.
Yet in Trevor Dermott, whom she profoundly disliked, there was a quality which Rosemary might find disturbing if ever he awoke to a realisation of the part he was hereafter destined to play in her life. Miss Allison called him privately the Flamboyant Male but suspected that his flaunted masculinity was an integral part of him and no pose assumed to match his vigorous good looks and lusty body. Stupid he might be, but his hot brown eyes, lacking intelligence, held a spark of purpose. He was of the type that must snatch what it desires: it was too evident that he desired Rosemary, so delicately playing him on the end of her line.
"You can't go on living with a fellow like Kane, a fellow who's only half alive!" he said.
Rosemary looked at him thoughtfully. He supposed her to be comparing his splendid physique with Clement's thin, stooping frame. He did not preen himself, but he laughed, sure of his superiority. Actually no comparison was in her mind. He attracted her strongly; she was loath to let him go; but Clement, possessing his cousin's fortune, was beyond comparison.
She said seriously: "Clement needs me, Trevor."
It was true; she did not disguise from herself the fact that she needed Clement's money, but she began to feel rather holy. This was reflected in her face, uplifted to Dermott's. He said: "My God, and don't I need you? Are you going to sacrifice us both to a man who doesn't satisfy you, can't so much as start to understand you?"
She sighed. She saw herself immolated upon the altar of wifely duty, the victim of a tragic love affair.
That she saw herself gowned by Reville, wearing a long mournful rope of pearls, only made the vision more picturesque: it did not lessen its pathos. "It was just a beautiful dream, Trevor," she said, not very originally but with deep feeling.