‘It’s very kind of you, Nesta,’ said Cynthia. ‘They were beginning to show quite a vindictive spirit about it.’
She folded the cheque calmly and put it in her purse.
‘And now tell me how you did it,’ said Mrs Ford.
She dropped into a chair and leaned back, her hands behind her head. For the first time, she seemed to enjoy perfect peace of mind. Her eyes half closed, as if she had been making ready to listen to some favourite music.
‘Tell me from the very beginning,’ she said softly.
Cynthia checked a yawn.
‘Very well, dear,’ she said. ‘I caught the 10.20 to Eastnor, which isn’t a bad train, if you ever want to go down there. I arrived at a quarter past twelve, and went straight up to the house–you’ve never seen the house, of course? It’s quite charming–and told the butler that I wanted to see Mr Ford on business. I had taken the precaution to find out that he was not there. He is at Droitwich.’
‘Rheumatism,’ murmured Mrs Ford. ‘He has it sometimes.’
‘The man told me he was away, and then he seemed to think that I ought to go. I stuck like a limpet. I sent him to fetch Ogden’s tutor. His name is Broster–Reggie Broster. He is a very nice young man. Big, broad shoulders, and such a kind face.’
‘Yes, dear, yes?’
‘I told him I was doing a series of drawings for a magazine of the interiors of well-known country houses.’
‘He believed you?’
‘He believed everything. He’s that kind of man. He believed me when I told him that my editor particularly wanted me to sketch the staircase. They had told me about the staircase at the inn. I forget what it is exactly, but it’s something rather special in staircases.’
‘So you got in?’
‘So I got in.’
‘And saw Ogden?’
‘Only for a moment–then Reggie–‘
‘Who?’
‘Mr Broster. I always think of him as Reggie. He’s one of Nature’s Reggies. -Such- a kind, honest face. Well, as I was saying, Reggie discovered that it was time for lessons, and sent Ogden upstairs.’
‘By himself?’
‘By himself! Reggie and I chatted for a while.’
Mrs Ford’s eyes opened, brown and bright and hard.
‘Mr Broster is not a proper tutor for my boy,’ she said coldly.
‘I suppose it was wrong of Reggie,’ said Cynthia. ‘But–I was wearing this hat.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, after a time, I said I must be starting my work. He wanted me to start with the room we were in. I said no, I was going out into the grounds to sketch the house from the EAST. I chose the EAST because it happens to be nearest the railway station. I added that I supposed he sometimes took Ogden for a little walk in the grounds. He said yes, he did, and it was just about due. He said possibly he might come round my way. He said Ogden would be interested in my sketch. He seemed to think a lot of Ogden’s fondness for art.’
‘Mr Broster is -not- a proper tutor for my boy.’
‘Well, he isn’t your boy’s tutor now, is he, dear?’
‘What happened then?’
‘I strolled off with my sketching things. After a while Reggie and Ogden came up. I said I hadn’t been able to work because I had been frightened by a bull.’
‘Did he believe -that-?’
‘-Certainly- he believed it. He was most kind and sympathetic. We had a nice chat. He told me all about himself. He used to be very good at football. He doesn’t play now, but he often thinks of the past.’
‘But he must have seen that you couldn’t sketch. Then what became of your magazine commission story?’
‘Well, somehow the sketch seemed to get shelved. I didn’t even have to start it. We were having our chat, you see. Reggie was telling me how good he had been at football when he was at Oxford, and he wanted me to see a newspaper clipping of a Varsity match he had played in. I said I’d love to see it. He said it was in his suit-case in the house. So I promised to look after Ogden while he fetched it. I sent him off to get it just in time for us to catch the train. Off he went, and here we are. And now, won’t you order that lunch you mentioned? I’m starving.’