"I won't make a fool of myself!" she said breathlessly. 'I won't let you make a fool of me; again and again and — John! John, what's the. matter?"
They all turned to look. John Bohun said:
"It's all right, Kate. I'm not feeling well, that's all. Touch of something." He straightened his head from bending down, bracing himself with one hand on the table. He looked genuinely ill, and there was sweat on his forehead. The tweed coat now seemed too big for his big lean frame. "Come here, Kate. I haven't seen you since. since I got back." He held out his hand, trying to smile. "How are you, old girl? You look fit. You look different, somehow. I've got a present for you, only I haven't even unpacked my bags yet."
`But what's wrong?"
She ran over to him. He caught her under the chin and held up her head to study her the better; and, despite the twitching of the nostrils, he was smiling down apparently without a thought except for her. Bennett had a curious feeling that he was seeing the real John Bohun under a number of masks.
"Nothing's wrong, fathead. Don't let 'em frighten you, d'you hear? They've got me in rather a bad situation — but, you see, no matter what I try to prove, I'm caught out in one thing or the other. I'm bound to be hanged for something."
Masters stepped forward, and John held up his hand.
"Steady, inspector. I'm not admitting anything. I suppose there's no reason for telling or not telling; but-maybe. later. I'm going up to my room to lie down now. Don't try to stop me. You said yourself you had no official authority here yet."
There was something so intense in his manner that nobody spoke. He seemed to realize that (for the only second in his life) he was in command of a given group of people. He went rather quickly to the door, but his step slowed down as he neared it. He turned, and jerked his head towards them. He studied them.
"Well, cheer-o," said John Bohun. The door closed.
There was a silence. Bennett looked across at the placid, faintly amused countenance of Maurice; and he had to crush down a somewhat undiplomatic impulse to take Maurice and break him into rather small pieces. The impulse had been troubling him for some time. This wouldn't do. He looked across at Katharine, and started to light a cigarette; but his hands trembled.
"But what's wrong with him?" the girl cried. "There's something. ”
Bennett went over quietly, took her by the shoulders, and made her sit down. He thought that she pressed his hand. Masters had swung round again; and, if he read Masters' expression correctly, the chief inspector had much the same feeling towards the whole wild muddled business as he had himself.
Masters said heavily: "There are a number of questions I've got to ask about Mr. Bohun's doings here last night and this morning. But I think it will be necessary to get things in order. Excuse me; you are Miss Bohun? Just so. Now, to begin with."
She had been pouring out coffee, her hands trembling a little among the cups; but she did not once look across the table at Maurice.
"To begin with," she insisted, "oh, really, let me say it! This absurd notion-about Louise's trying to. That's as silly and nonsensical as anybody would be who made it." After a pause, during which they heard from Maurice a sound which in anybody else might have been a snicker, she hesitated as though she had said more than she dared. She looked at Bennett, flushing hotly. "May I give you some coffee?"
Masters' look said, "Good girl!" Aloud he said:
"I'm bound to tell you, Miss Bohun, that the same accusation was made against you. Didn't you hear me say so?" "That? Oh, that's silly too. Because I didn't; why on earth should I? — Who made it? Not-?"
Maurice had been making faint clucking sounds of mild protest. Again he touched the bridge of his nose as though puzzled; then he reached out and gently touched Katharine's hand as though in reassurance.
"Of course not, my dear; could such a thought have entered your poor little head? My dear, tut — be careful. You will have that coffee across my hand. And do you mind not rattling the cups so much? Thank you. " A benevolent smile. "I must really insist on not being misquoted, Mr. Masters. I am not aware of having made any accusation whatsoever. Let me see? What was I saying? Oh, yes. Since all those present were unlikely to have done what you suggest, it occurred to me that, in view of Miss Carewe's fairly vehement and not entirely unjustified objections to her father's possible marriage to Miss Tait, the young lady had a stronger cause for dislike than any others. I may, of course, be mistaken."
"Suppose we hear," said Masters quickly, "exactly what did happen. You, Miss Bohun; would you mind giving your account?"
"Not at all. If you'll tell me who it was that said I–I shoved her."
"It was Mr. Rainger. Eh? Does that surprise you, Miss Bohun?"
Her hand stopped in lifting the cup. Dull anger changed to a rather hysterical laughter.
"That little — ugh! Did he say that, really? Oh, I say, he would! He was the one who was going to make me a star in pictures. Yes, I understand now."
"What?"
"Our little Kate," observed Maurice vaguely, "has sound moral ideas. Sometimes. "
She kept her gaze fixed on Masters: a shining and rather hoydenish amusement mixed with the anger. "Sound moral ideas," said Katharine Bohun, with a violence of loosened breath, "be — be — d-damned! Eee! That man; that's all. Ugh! I could no more stand having him touch me than… I don't know what. Listen, I'll tell you about it, because it's a part of the story you wanted to hear. At dinner last night was where the suggestion started that my uncle should take-you know — Marcia, and the rest of us, over the house by moonlight, with my uncle carrying a candle but no lights turned on.
"Well, all through dinner, you see, this man Rainger kept looking at me. He didn't say anything. But first he'd look at Marcia, and then he'd look at me for a long time, and he'd hardly answer when anybody spoke to him. But when Marcia suggested going over the house by moonlight, he said it would be a splendid idea; something like that. He was sitting-"
her eyes wandered over towards Bennett, and a rather startled expression crept into them: instantly veiled as at some thought she did not wish seen. "Here. There; I don't remember. Anyway, what was I saying? Yes. Marcia wouldn't let the men stay at table after we'd left, and on the way through the passages to the library he came behind the others and took my arm." She began to laugh again until she had to put her handkerchief to her eyes. "I say, it was so jolly funny because you couldn't understand what the blighter was about for a minute; all he could do was sort of mutter out of the side of his mouth, `What about it, baby?' After a minute I knew what he meant from the way they always say that in the films; but I said, `What about what?' And he said, `Come off that; they understand it in the States,' in rather a tired way. And I said, `Yes, they understand it over here, too, but you've got to make your approach in a very different way if you want to get anywhere in England."'
Maurice Bohun involuntarily said, "Good God!" and Bennett, also involuntarily, said, "Great!" Maurice leaned a little forward.
"This, I think," he said, quietly, "is a really remarkable statement from you, in equally remarkable language. I shall have to take measures towards seeing that your mode of expressing yourself, either to me or to our guests"
"Oh, you go to the devil!" she said, whirling on him and blazing at him at last. "I'll say what I jolly well please!"
"No," said Maurice after a pause, and smiled gently. "You will go to your room, I think."
"Now I'll tell you what it is, Mr. Bohun," interposed Masters, in a voice of very cool sanity. "I've got no wish to interfere in, um, domestic matters. Eh? But I'm getting a bit tired of this too. This isn't a domestic matter. It's a murder case. And when it comes to ordering witnesses about. Oh, ah. Sit still, Miss Bohun. Go on, please: what were you saying?"