As the aeroplane disappeared over the trees and its roar receded into the distance, Sylvia turned abruptly to Frankie.
‘It’s been so awful -‘ she said brokenly. ‘And you all seem to want to send Henry far away from me.’ ‘No, no,’ said Frankie. ‘It wasn’t that at all.’ She cast about for a minute.
‘It was only that I thought he ought to have the best treatment. And I do think that Dr Nicholson is rather – well, rather a quack.’ ‘I don’t believe it,’ said Sylvia. ‘I think he’s a very clever man and just the kind of man Henry needs.’ She looked defiantly at Frankie. Frankie marvelled at the hold Dr Nicholson had acquired over her in such a short time.
All her former distrust of the man seemed to have vanished completely.
At a loss what to say or do next, Frankie relapsed into silence.
Presently Roger came out again from the house. He seemed slightly breathless.
‘Nicholson isn’t in yet,’ he said. ‘I left a message.’ ‘I don’t see why you want to see Dr Nicholson so urgently,’ said Sylvia. ‘You suggested this plan, and it’s all arranged and Henry has consented.’ ‘I think I’ve got some say in the matter, Sylvia,’ said Roger gently. ‘After all, I’m Henry’s brother.’ ‘You suggested the plan yourself,’ said Sylvia obstinately.
‘Yes, but I’ve heard a few things about Nicholson since.’ ‘What things? Oh! I don’t believe you.’ She bit her lip, turned away and plunged into the house.
Roger looked at Frankie.
‘This is a bit awkward,’ he said.
‘Very awkward, indeed.’ ‘Once Sylvia has made her mind up she can be obstinate as the devil.’ ‘What are we going to do?’ They sat down again on the garden seat and went into the matter carefully. Roger agreed with Frankie that to tell the whole story to Sylvia would be a mistake. The best plan, in his opinion, would be to tackle the doctor.
‘But what are you going to say exactly?’ ‘I don’t know that I shall say much – but I shall hint a good deal. At any rate, I agree with you about one thing – Henry mustn’t go to the Grange. Even if we come right out into the open, we’ve got to stop that.’ ‘We give the whole show away if we do,’ Frankie reminded him.
‘I know. That’s why we’ve got to try everything else first.
Curse Sylvia, why must she turn obstinate just at this minute?’ ‘It shows the power of the man,’ Frankie said.
‘Yes. You know, it inclines me to believe that, evidence or no evidence, you may be right about him after all – what’s that?’ They both sprang up.
‘It sounded like a shot,’ said Frankie. ‘From the house.’ They looked at each other, then raced towards the building.
They went in by the trench window of the drawing-room and passed through into the hall. Sylvia Bassington-ffrench was standing there, her face white as paper.
‘Did you hear?’ she said. ‘It was a shot – from Henry’s study.’ She swayed and Roger put an arm round her to steady her.
Frankie went to the study door and turned the handle.
‘It’s locked,’ she said.
‘The window,’ said Roger.
He deposited Sylvia, who was in a half-fainting condition, on a convenient settee and raced out again through the drawingroom, Frankie on his heels. They went round the house till they came to the study window. It was closed, but they put their went into his study, locked the door, wrote a few words on a sheet of paper – and – shot himself. Bobby, it’s too ghastly. It’s – it’s grim.’ ‘I know,’ said Bobby quietly.
They were both silent for a little.
‘I shall have to leave today, of course,’ said Frankie presently.
‘Yes, I suppose you will. How is she – Mrs Bassingtonffrench, I mean?’ ‘She’s collapsed, poor soul. I haven’t seen her since we – we found the body. The shock to her must have been awful.’ Bobby nodded.
‘You’d better bring the car round about eleven,’ continued Frankie.
Bobby did not answer. Frankie looked at him impatiently.
‘What’s the matter with you, Bobby? You look as though you were miles away.’ ‘Sorry. As a matter of fact ‘ ‘Yes?’ ‘Well, I was just wondering. I suppose – well, I suppose it’s all right?’ ‘What do you mean – all right?’ ‘I mean it’s quite certain that he did commit suicide?’ ‘Oh!’ said Frankie. ‘I see.’ She thought a minute. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘it was suicide all right.’ ‘You’re quite sure? You see, Frankie, we have Moira’s word for it that Nicholson wanted two people out of the way. Well, here’s one of them gone.’ Frankie thought again, but once more she shook her head.