‘I said I’d stay.’

It was in her mind that if she gave way to him now she would be giving way all along the line, and before she knew what was happening they would be married and she would be living in the flat with the flowery curtains. The mere fact that this made her feel as if she had just had two glasses of champagne was proof positive that it must be resisted. Marriage, was the sort of thing to go into soberly and advisedly, with a due regard for the possible recurrence of another Anne Forester. It was by no means to be embarked upon with a swimming head, a beating heart, and a strong disposition to cry upon Ninian’s shoulder. She said,

‘You think you love me now because we’ve been away from each other and we’re all worked up.’

He shook his head.

‘I don’t think I love you – I know it. I always have, and I always shall. And I want you to go up to London tonight.’

They went on talking. She wouldn’t move from her point. Adriana had asked her to stay until after the inquest, and she thought it was the right thing to do. Also Star was almost certain to ring up and want more things brought up to town for her or for Stella.

These considerations and the frame of mind they induced served to insulate them from the atmosphere of dullness and gloom which prevailed in the family circle. Adriana had withdrawn into an almost complete silence in which she contemplated the break-up of her present way of life. Geoffrey Ford talked fitfully about the weather, about the political situation, about anything that came into his head except the subject which filled their thoughts. Nobody mentioned golfclubs, or the police, or the fact that they would all have to attend another inquest within the next day or two, and that this time the verdict would not be accidental death but wilful murder.

There was some general conversation during the evening meal, but when the party had moved to the drawing-room Adriana took up a book, Geoffrey retired behind a newspaper, and with the chairs so disposed as to leave a sofa between the windows for Ninian and Janet the talk in the circle about the fire was confined to Miss Silver and Edna Ford.

Conversations in which Edna participated could usually be taken as heard. There was a kind of plaintive pattern about them, since whatever the other person had to say, Edna did not so much respond as just go on talking about the rise in prices, the difficulty of getting household help and the deterioration in its quality, together with such kindred subjects as her own health, the lack of consideration it received, and the general decline of everything in every direction. The extreme inconvenience of old houses was her present theme.

‘Of course one can’t really expect comfort in any house which is more than a hundred years old. This house is a great deal older than that – and so low-lying. Of course they had to build down by the river in those days because of the water supply. Most insanitary.’

Adriana lifted her eyes from her book. She was at a sufficient distance to make it possible that the criticism had not reached her, but on the other hand it was not impossible that it had. Her look did not, however, convey any impression of offence. It rested thoughtfully upon Edna for a moment and then went back to a page which had not been turned for quite a long time. She turned it now.

Edna sat there quite undisturbed in the old black dress which she considered appropriate to the fact that there had been a death in the family. Like the coat and skirt which she had worn for the funeral the day before, it sagged over the shoulders and made it plain that she had been losing weight. Above the high neck, unrelieved by so much as a row of pearls, her skin was lifeless and sallow. There was no colour about her anywhere – not in the pale eyes, the straw-coloured lashes, or the faded hair. Even the tints of her embroidery silks were faint. She took a stitch and said,

‘The plumbing is dreadfully old-fashioned. It takes far too much fuel to heat the water, and I do not – I do not consider that Mrs Simmons understands the range. It simply eats coal, and she has no idea of economy. Now, in one of those nice modern little houses one would get about twice as much hot water for a much lower expenditure.’

Miss Silver smiled encouragingly. She held quite pronounced views upon the general inconvenience of old houses, but she would not have considered it courteous to say so in the – possible – hearing of her hostess. She had, however, no desire to prevent Edna Ford from saying anything she chose. Having smiled, she observed that many of the houses now being built were of a quite convenient type, though they had not, of course, the romantic associations of the older buildings.

Edna responded in a complaining voice.

‘All these old houses were built when people had armies of servants. Now a small modern villa would be so easily run, and it is so much more comfortable to live in a road with proper pavements and street-lighting. I have never really got accustomed to going out by myself in the dark. It always makes me nervous. Why, last winter after I had been having tea at the Vicarage I was coming up the drive. Of course I had my torch – I wouldn’t go anywhere without one – and Geoffrey said perhaps that was what attracted it. But it was really most startling – a great owl swooped right down over my head. It gave me quite a bad shock, coming down suddenly like that without any sound and looking all white.’

Miss Silver pulled on her ball of wool.

‘A most unpleasant experience.’

‘I haven’t been out by myself since. It made me so nervous. Now before I married, when we lived in Ledchester, I used not to mind going out at all. There were four of us, so there was always someone to come and go with, and the streets were very well lighted. And of course there are more men in a town. In the country there are so few.’ She leaned towards Miss Silver and dropped her voice. ‘That is the worst of it – those that there are get so run after. It doesn’t matter whether they are married or not, they are pursued! And the young women don’t seem to have any shame about it. That woman they were talking about upstairs, Esmé Trent – always ringing Geoffrey up and wanting to play golf with him!’

‘Indeed?’

Edna nodded.

‘It isn’t easy to find excuses when you are asked point-blank. Of course she never asked me. Not that I should have played if she had – I am not really strong enough. I gave it up years ago.’

‘Mrs Trent is fond of the game?’

‘She is fond of anything that will help her to get hold of a man. She has quite persecuted Geoffrey. And you know what men are – they grumble about that sort of thing, but it flatters them.’

Miss Silver wondered if any of this was reaching the ears of Geoffrey Ford. He and Adriana were on one side of the wide hearth, and she and Mrs Geoffrey on the other. The Times screened him from view, and he appeared to be reading it page by page. Every now and then he turned it inside out with a loud rustling noise. He might be listening, or he might not. She thought it was unlikely that his wife’s conversation would arouse any interest, unless Mrs Trent’s name had caught his attention. In any case it would be quite difficult for him to hear what had been said. It was obvious that Edna Ford desired to minimize the effect which she might have produced upon Miss Silver with her outburst about Esmé Trent. Geoffrey was to be presented not as the hunter but the hunted, Mrs Trent as the brazen woman in pursuit of a reluctant prey. And if there were to be any enquiries about golfclubs, it was to be made quite clear that Esmé Trent was a devotee of the game.

Glancing momentarily in Adriana’s direction, she thought the fine eyes held a sardonic gleam. They met hers for the briefest possible space, but she no longer felt sure that Mrs Geoffrey’s conversation had not been overheard.