Sir Henry said, “What did you say when Conway told you he proposed to adopt the girl?”
Mark thrust out his hands. “What could we say? Addie, always the little lady, retained her self-control admirably. Put a brave face upon it. I endeavored to follow her example.”
“I should have made a fuss!” said Mrs. Bantry.
“Well, frankly speaking, we weren’t entitled to make a fuss. It was Jeff’s money. We weren’t his flesh and blood. He’d always been damned good to us. There was nothing for it but to bite on the bullet.” He added reflectively, “But we didn’t love little Ruby.”
Adelaide Jefferson said, “If only it had been some other kind of girl. Jeff had two godchildren, you know. If it had been one of them well, one would have understood it.” She added with a shade of resentment, “And Jeff’s always seemed so fond of Peter.”
“Of course,” said Mrs. Bantry. “I always have known Peter was your first husband’s child, but I’d quite forgotten it. I’ve always thought of him as Mr. Jefferson’s grandson.”
“So have I,” said Adelaide. Her voice held a note that made Miss Marple turn in her chair and look at her.
“It was Josie’s fault,” said Mark. “Josie brought her here.”
Adelaide said, “Oh, but surely you don’t think it was deliberate, do you? Why, you’ve always liked Josie so much.” “Yes, I did like her. I thought she was a good sport.” “It was sheer accident, her bringing the girl down.” “Josie’s got a good head on her shoulders, my girl.” “Yes, but she couldn’t foresee-”
Mark said, “No, she couldn’t. I admit it. I’m not really accusing her of planning the whole thing. But I’ve no doubt she saw which way the wind was blowing long before we did, and kept very quiet about it.”
Adelaide said with a sigh, “I suppose one can’t blame her for that.”
Mark said, “Oh, we can’t blame anyone for anything!” Mrs. Bantry asked, “Was Ruby Keene very pretty?” Mark stared at her. “I thought you’d seen-” Mrs. Bantry said hastily, “Oh, yes, I saw her her body. But she’d been strangled, you know, and one couldn’t tell-” She shivered.
Mark said thoughtfully, “I don’t think she was really pretty at all. She certainly wouldn’t have been without any make-up. A thin ferrety little face, not much chin, teeth running down her throat, nondescript sort of nose-” “It sounds revolting,” said Mrs. Bantry. “Oh, no, she wasn’t. As I say, with make-up she managed to give quite an effect of good looks…. Don’t you think so, Addie?”
“Yes, rather chocolate-box, pink-and-white business. She had nice blue eyes.” “Yes, innocent-baby stare, and the heavily blacked lashes brought out the blueness. Her hair was bleached, of course. It’s true, when I come to think of it, that in coloring, artificial coloring, anyway, she had a kind of spurious resemblance to Rosamund, my wife, you know. I dare say that’s what attracted the old man’s attention to her.” He sighed. “Well, it’s a bad business. The awful thing is that Addie and I can’t help being glad, really, that she’s dead.” He quelled a protest from his sister-in-law. “It’s no good, Addie. I know what you feel. I feel the same. And I’m not going to pretend! But at the same time, if you know what I mean, I really am most awfully concerned for Jeff about the whole business. It’s hit him very hard. I-” He stopped and stared toward the doors leading out of the lounge onto the terrace. “Well, well. See who’s here…. What an unscrupulous woman you are, Addie.”
Mrs. Jefferson looked over her shoulder, uttered an exclamation and got up, a slight color rising in her face. She walked quickly along the terrace and went up to a tall, middle-aged man with a thin brown face who was looking uncertainly about him.
Mrs. Bantry said, “Isn’t that Hugo McLean?”
Mark Gaskell said, “Hugo McLean it is. Alias William Dobbin.”
Mrs. Bantry murmured, “He’s very faithful, isn’t he?”
“Doglike devotion,” said Mark. “Addie’s only got to whistle and Hugo comes trotting along from any odd corner of the globe. Always hopes that someday she’ll marry him. I dare say she will.”