He made a little bow to acknowledge her approval. “I think it’s rather nice and, as you can see, there’s no one here to eavesdrop on us unless they’re stowed away in a closet, which isn’t likely.”
She drew herself up and looked straight into his eyes. “I did not think of that. We may not agree, may even become–or now be–enemies, but I know you’re a gentleman, or I shouldn’t be here.”
He asked in an amused tone: “You mean I’ve learned not to wear tan shoes with blue suits? Things like that?”
“I don’t mean things like that.”
He smiled. “Then you’re wrong. I’m a gambler and a politician’s hanger-on.”
“I’m not wrong.” A pleading expression came into her eyes. “Please don’t let us quarrel, at least not until we must.”
“I’m sorry.” His smile was apologetic now. “Won’t you sit down?”
She sat down. He sat in another wide red chair facing her. He said: “Now you were going to tell me what happened at your house the night your brother was killed.”
“Yes,” issuing from her mouth, was barely audible. Her face became pink and she transferred her gaze to the floor. When she raised her eyes again they were shy. Embarrassment clogged her voice: “I wanted you to know. You are Paul’s friend and that–that may make you my enemy, but– I think when you know what happened–when you know the truth– you’ll not be–at least not be my enemy. I don’t know. Perhaps you’ll– But you ought to know. Then you can decide. And he hasn’t told you.” She looked intently at him so that shyness went out of her eyes. “Has he?”
“I don’t know what happened at your house that night,” he said. “He didn’t tell me.”
She leaned towards him quickly to ask: “Doesn’t that show it’s something he wants to conceal, something he has to conceal?”
He moved his shoulders. “Suppose it does?” His voice was unexcited, uneager.
She frowned. “But you must see– Never mind that now. I’ll tell you what happened and you can see it for yourself.” She continued to lean far forward, staring at his face with intent brown eyes. “He came to dinner, the first time we’d had him to dinner.”
“I knew that,” Ned Beaumont said, “and your brother wasn’t there.”
“Taylor wasn’t at the dinner-table,” she corrected him earnestly, “but he was up in his room. Only Father, Paul, and I were at the table. Taylor was going out to dinner. He–he wouldn’t eat with Paul because of the trouble they’d had about Opal.”
Ned Beaumont nodded attentively without warmth.
“After dinner Paul and I were alone for a little while in–in the room where you and I talked last night and he suddenly put his arms around me and kissed me.”
Ned Beaumont laughed, not loudly, but with abrupt irrepressible merriment.
Janet Henry looked at him in surprise.
He modified his laugh to a smile and said: “I’m sorry. Go on. I’ll tell you later why I laughed.” But when she would have gone on he said: “Wait. Did he say anything when he kissed you?”
“No. That is, he may have, but nothing I understood.” Perplexity was deepening in her face. “Why?”
Ned Beaumont laughed again. “He ought to’ve said something about his pound of flesh. It was probably my fault. I had been trying to persuade him not to support your father in the election, had told him that your father was using you as bait to catch his support, and had advised him that if he was willing to be bought that way he ought to be sure and collect his pound of flesh ahead of the election or he’d never get it.”
She opened her eyes wide and there was less perplexity in them.
He said: “That was that afternoon, though I didn’t think I’d had much luck putting it over.” He wrinkled his forehead. “What did you do to him? He was meaning to marry you and was chock-full of respect and what not for you and you must have rubbed him pretty thoroughly the wrong way to make him jump at you like that.”
“I didn’t do anything to him,” she replied slowly, “though it had been a difficult evening. None of us was comfortable. I thought–I tried not to show that–well–that I resented having to entertain him. He wasn’t at ease, I know, and I suppose that–his embarrassment–and perhaps a suspicion that you had been right made him–” She finished the sentence with a brief quick outward motion of both hands.