"Oh, to hell with that rubbish!" he said. "Keep your mouth shut, that's all I ask of you!"
She said in a voice of ice: "Indeed! Well, that's interesting, at all events."
"I didn't mean that!" he answered quickly, releasing her. "But it seems to me you don't realise how serious this is. Of course I didn't do it—naturally I didn't!—but when I left you I went back to the Royal and had one or two, and like a fool started to drive up to town. Got pinched about ten miles from here. You see how suspicious it looks? Then there's that little swine, Timothy, yapping to the police about having seen me drive off from here in a flat spin. All lies, of course, and so I told that thick-headed superintendent."
"Why do you say that to me?" asked Rosemary calmly. "You were quite beside yourself. I don't blame you, but it's quite useless to tell me that you were—"
"All right, go and tell the police I was crazy with the shock of having lost you! Go on, tell them, if you're so damned keen on the truth!"
"Whatever else I am," said Rosemary, "I am loyal."
Miss Allison would have enjoyed the unconscious humour in this remark, but Dermott saw nothing absurd in it and replied at once: "I know, I know! Fact of the matter is, the whole thing's a bit on top of me. You must be guided by me." He gave an unconvincing laugh. "That pretty little head of yours wasn't made for all this brainwork, darling. Just do as I say, and everything will be all right."
He left her, and after vainly trying to engage Miss Allison in a discussion on the affair, with particular reference to her own spiritual reactions, Rosemary rang up Mrs. Pemble and begged her to come to tea. "I feel stifled here!" she announced. "There's no one I can talk to. I feel if I have to bottle it all up much longer I shall go out of my mind."
Betty was suitably flattered by this invitation and made haste to assure Rosemary how well she understood what she meant. "The only thing is, it's Nanny's afternoon off, and I can't leave the children," she said.
Rosemary was not very fond of children, but the prospect of acquiring a sympathetic listener was too enticing to be foregone. She at once included Jennifer and Peter in her invitation, consoling herself with the thought that Timothy could quite well amuse them.
Timothy, however, did not see the matter in the same light and said so with more frankness than civility.
Rosemary somewhat unwisely retorted that he would do as he was told, whereupon Timothy went off immediately in search of his stepbrother, whom he found in the library with Miss Allison, and enlisted his support.
Jim was sufficiently annoyed to hear that Rosemary had invited a comparative stranger to tea at such a time to uphold Timothy. Miss Allison went farther and said darkly that one of these days Rosemary would get what was coming to her. At this point Rosemary came in, also to enlist Jim's support. Jim said in a rather cold voice that he wanted Timothy to go on an errand to Portlaw. This led to a spirited and slightly acrimonious dialogue, during the course of which Jim requested Rosemary to remember that this was hardly the moment to invite strangers to tea, Miss Allison advised her not to indulge in any indiscreet conversation with a garrulous woman like Betty, and Rosemary supposed, viciously, that she ought to have asked Jim's permission to invite anyone to his house.
Before he could reply, Pritchard came into the room to tell him that Mr. Paul Mansell wished to speak to him on the telephone. He said: "All right; I'll come"; and to Rosemary: "Aunt Emily's permission is the one you should have asked."
"I think," said Rosemary as he went out, "that as Clement's widow I am entitled to some consideration!"
"Considering you have just informed us all that you are in love with Mr. Dermott, I think the less you say about being Clement's widow the better it will be!" retorted Miss Allison.
Rosemary looked at her. "You don't understand me a bit, do you?" she said. "I've always had the feeling that you disliked me."
Miss Allison deigned no response to this, so Rosemary went away.
"Say, sister!" quoth Mr. Harte; "you're a peach!"
Miss Allison laughed. "Oh, Timothy, I'm afraid I'm merely a cat. I suppose you couldn't take those ghastly children down to the lake and push them in?"
"Nope!" said Mr. Harte. "I don't want the cops to have the drop on me."
"I expect you're right," agreed Miss Allison.
Jim came back into the room. "Can you lose yourself, or do you want me to give you a real errand?" he inquired of his stepbrother.
"I'm going to Portlaw to see James Cagney's new film," replied Timothy. "You can give me an errand if you like."
"Well, buy me a box of matches, or a local paper or something," said Jim. Mr. Harte said that he would if he remembered, and vanished.
"What did Paul Mansell want?" asked Patricia.
"He's coming up to see me—to talk things over. I told him I really hadn't had time to get my bearings, but that didn't seem to deter him."
"The Australian business," she said. She raised her eyes to his face. "Jim, let them do what they want!"
"My dear good child, I can't decide on a matter like that at a moment's notice!" he replied. "I haven't gone into it. All I know is that Silas and Clement were dead against it!"
"Jim!" She laid a hand on his and clasped it. "Never mind that! It can't matter to you how much money you have to put up for it. Let them do as they like!"
He looked down at her, half smiling. "I thought you wanted to marry a very rich man?"
"Don't be silly. I'm serious, Jim. Let the Mansells have it as they want! You'll still be a very rich man."
"True, my love; but that isn't quite the point. I'm not a bit interested in Kane and Mansell's nets, but Silas and Clement were, and I shouldn't like to let them down. I can't possibly decide a question of that size offhand."
"Jim, couldn't you get out of having anything to do with the firm?"
"Yes; what I rather think I should like to do, if the Mansells would consent, is to turn the whole thing into a public company."
"Would they like that?"
"Depends on who had control. They might."
"Then do it. I—Jim, I'm frightened!"
"Pat, you cuckoo!"
"I know. But I'm still frightened. I don't want to sound like Rosemary, but there's some awful feeling of—of danger hanging over this place. You can say I'm overwrought if you like, and perhaps I am. I've tried to shake it off, but I can't. I tell you, Jim, I can hardly bear to let you out of my sight for fear something may happen to you."
He put his arm round her comfortingly. "My sweet, you've let this get on top of you."
"Yes. I know. But don't tell Paul Mansell you won't consent to the Australian scheme! Please don't, Jim!"
"No, of course I shan't. I don't propose to commit myself in any way till I've had time to look into it."
"They want an answer at once. Jim, don't you realise that there's someone utterly ruthless at work?"
His arm slackened about her. The smile faded from his face. "Go on. What are you getting at?"
"First Mr. Kane and now Clement," she said, nervously rolling her handkerchief between her hands. "It sounds fantastic—I know it sounds fantastic; but that Scotland Yard man thinks Mr. Kane's death was murder. He asked me question after question."
"Are you seriously suggesting that the Mansells did away with Silas and Clement all because of a split on a matter of business policy?"
"Not old Mr. Mansell, no. But Paul could. You don't know him, Jim. He's horrible."
"I don't want to be rude, darling, but have you been consorting much with Timothy of late?"
"Oh, Jim, don't laugh! I'm so sure it's serious!"
"Well, I promise I won't turn down the Australian scheme today. Will that do?"
"I wish you'd consent to it."
"Not really, Pat."
She reflected. "No, I suppose not. Sorry. Do as you think best. I've gone a trifle over at the knees."