"He's going to turn it down," Paul said.
"I'm afraid so. I'm afraid so," Joe Mansell replied.
"I would never have thought it of him. Never."
Paul smiled rather unpleasantly but said nothing.
"Roberts may manage to persuade him," Joe said, but without much hope.
"Why should he?" Paul shrugged. "Plenty of other firms who'd jump at his proposition if we pass it up."
"No doubt, but there's only one Kane and Mansell," said Joe. "I fancy we stand alone."
"He won't care about that," Paul said. "He wants the best if he can get it, but if he can't the next-best will do very well. You'll see."
"I have half a mind to call at Cliff House on Saturday myself," said Joe. "After all, I am much older than Clement, and if he listens to anyone it will be to me. I can quite well go to see the old lady. In fact, I ought to pay her a visit. I haven't been there since Silas died."
Emily, had he but known it, counted this a gain and would certainly have elected to stay in her own room on Saturday if she had had warning of his fell design.
Since Clement's arrival at Cliff House she had segregated herself as much as was possible. On fine mornings she drove out for an hour in a landaulette Daimler of antique design which she obstinately refused to part with, but she usually lunched upstairs and rarely came down afterwards. Rosemary, who was expecting Trevor Dermott, thought that sheer perversity prompted Emily to elect to be wheeled into the garden at three o'clock on Saturday afternoon. She was convinced that Emily knew of Dermott's impending visit and wished to spy upon her, and complained bitterly to Patricia that when the disconcerting old lady was at large you were never safe, because for all her pretence of having to be wheeled about she could move perfectly well on her own feet and very often did so.
Patricia, who had more than once been surprised at Emily's mobility, could not help laughing at Rosemary's injured expression. She suspected shrewdly that it amused Emily to startle her family by sudden spurts of energy, but she knew that her unaided excursions tired her more than she would admit. She quite agreed that it would be impolitic to present Trevor Dermott to Emily and managed by the exercise of considerable tact to settle her comfortably on the south side of the house, out of range of the front avenue. Here Jim joined her, a circumstance which made it possible for Miss Allison to slip away into the house to make up the weekly accounts which formed a part of her duties.
Rosemary, aware that a highly dramatic and possibly violent scene lay before her, armed herself for it by putting on a dove-grey frock and an appealing picture hat. The facts that Emily was seated within earshot of the drawing room, that Clement was working in the study, and that Timothy showed a disposition to drift in and out of the house made her decide to conduct her interview with Dermott elsewhere. Accordingly she strolled out of the house and down the avenue to meet him, naively informing Miss Allison that she thought it would really be better if Clement did not see that provocative touring car drive up to the door.
Miss Allison quite agreed with her. She watched her compose her face into an expression of wistful saintliness, enjoyed a private laugh at her expense, and retired to wrestle with accounts in the little room she used as an office.
These did not take her long, and by half-past three she had finished. She picked up the detailed list for Clement and was about to take it to his study when she heard a bell ring faintly in the distance and, going out into the hall, encountered Pritchard on his way to the front door.
He opened it, and Oscar Roberts stepped over the threshold, saying pleasantly: "Good afternoon. I fancy Mr. Kane's expecting me."
"Yes sir. Will you come this way?" said Pritchard, relieving him of his hat and cane.
Oscar Roberts smiled at Miss Allison and was about to follow the butler when a sudden report, as from a gun, startled them all into immobility. For an instant no one moved. Then Pritchard muttered: "My God, what's that?" and almost ran to the study door and flung it open.
Clement Kane lay crumpled across his desk, one arm hanging limply at his side, the other crooked under his fallen head.
Chapter Five
Miss Allison did not scream, because she was not in the habit of relieving her feelings by a display of hysterics, but her knees felt suddenly weak, and she grasped a chair back instinctively.
Pritchard, after one instant's shocked recoil, had started forward to his master's side. Miss Allison heard him say in a shaken voice: "My God, he's been shot through the head! Oh, my God!"
Oscar Roberts, with a murmured word of apology, put Miss Allison out of his way and strode into the study. He wasted no time in verifying Pritchard's statement but after a quick glance round the room leapt for the open window, threw a leg over the sill, and the next instant had plunged into the shrubbery on the other side of the narrow gravel path.
Miss Allison set her teeth and walked into the study.
The butler was looking very white and made a sign to her not to come near his master's desk. "Don't, miss! I wouldn't—" he said, wiping his face with his handkerchief.
"The police. We must telephone to the police," Miss Allison said in an unnaturally calm voice and picked up the receiver from the instrument on the desk, keeping her eyes carefully averted from Clement's huddled body.
A quick footstep sounded in the hall, and the next moment Jim Kane came into the room. "What was that?" he demanded. "I could have sworn I heard a—" He broke off. "Good God!" he said and went at once to the desk and bent over Clement. He straightened himself almost at once, nearly as white as Pritchard. "Who did it?" he said curtly.
The butler shook his head. Miss Allison, connected with the police station, said baldly: "I am speaking from Cliff House. Mr. Clement Kane has been shot. Will you please send someone at once?"
Oscar Roberts, rather dishevelled and out of breath, reappeared at the window and climbed into the room again. "Those gosh-darned rhododendrons!" he said. "He's gotten away, the skunk!"
"Who?" said Jim sharply. "Do you know who did this? Did you see him?"
"Not to say saw," Roberts replied. "I kind of heard a rustle amongst those bushes and made for it, but it's like a jungle out there, and he had the start of me. The way I figure it he was making for the front drive. You've got all of a twenty-foot bank of those rhododendrons right the way up the drive. It was a cinch for that guy! Through that darned shrubbery to the drive, across it into the rhododendrons. Surest thing you know, he was over the wall with a clean getaway before I reached the drive. Say, did you ring up the police?"
Miss Allison nodded. Jim said: "Look here, do you know who did this?"
Roberts bent to brush the leaf mould from his trousers. "If I knew who did it I wouldn't be standing here waiting for your comic police, Mr. Kane," he replied enigmatically.
Jim stared at him, his brows knit. "Any ideas on the subject?" he said.
"That's a large question, Mr. Kane. Guess we can all of us have ideas, but believe me, there's more harm done spreading them about than by keeping them to yourself." His deep-set eyes fell on Miss Allison. He said significantly: "Maybe you'd like to take Miss Allison out of this."
"I'm all right," said Patricia, pressing her handkerchief to her lips.
Timothy's voice was heard in the garden. "I say, what's up?" he panted. "I swear I heard a shot!"
Oscar Roberts moved swiftly to the window, to block the view, just as young Mr. Harte came plunging out onto the path from the shrubbery.
"Hullo, Mr. Roberts!" said Timothy. "Who's shooting around here?"
Roberts said quickly: "Hullo, son! Whereabouts have you been?"
"Well, I went down to the lodge to meet you, but—"
"That's fine. Look, now! Did you see anyone?"