“Once you start talking you never remember the time. What you’d do without me to look after you, I reely don’t know.”
“Quite right, my dear, quite right.” He patted her affectionately on the shoulder. “This is a wonderful girl, Mr. Clement. Never forgets anything. I consider myself extremely lucky to have found her.”
“Oh! go on, Dr. Stone,” said the lady. “You spoil me, you do.”
I could not help feeling that I should be in a material position to add my support to the second school of thought – that which foresees lawful matrimony as the future of Dr. Stone and Miss Cram. I imagined that in her own way Miss Cram was rather a clever young woman.
“You’d better be getting along,” said Miss Cram.
“Yes, yes, so I must.”
He vanished into the room next door and returned carrying a suit-case.
“You are leaving?” I asked in some surprise.
“Just running up to town for a couple of days,” he explained. “My old mother to see to-morrow, some business with my lawyers on Monday. On Tuesday I shall return. By the way, I suppose that Colonel Protheroe’s death will make no difference to our arrangements. As regards the barrow, I mean. Mrs. Protheroe will have no objection to our continuing the work?”
“I should not think so.”
As he spoke, I wondered who actually would be in authority at Old Hall. It was just possible that Protheroe might have left it to Lettice. I felt that it would be interesting to know the contents of Protheroe’s will.
“Causes a lot of trouble in a family, a death does,” remarked Miss Cram, with a kind of gloomy relish. “You wouldn’t believe what a nasty spirit there sometimes is.”
“Well, I must really be going.” Dr. Stone made ineffectual attempts to control the suit-case, a large rug and an unwieldy umbrella. I came to his rescue. He protested.
“Don’t trouble – don’t trouble. I can manage perfectly. Doubtless there will be somebody downstairs.”
But down below there was no trace of a boots or any one else. I suspect that they were being regaled at the expense of the Press. Time was getting on, so we set out together to the station, Dr. Stone carrying the suit-case, and I holding the rug and umbrella.
Dr. Stone ejaculated remarks in between panting breaths as we hurried along.
“Really too good of you – didn’t mean – to trouble you…. Hope we shan’t miss – the train – Gladys is a good girl – really a wonderful girl – a very sweet nature – not too happy at home, I’m afraid – absolutely – the heart of a child – heart of a child, I do assure you, in spite of – difference in our ages – find a lot in common….”
We saw Lawrence Redding’s cottage just as we turned off to the station. It stands in an isolated position with no other house near it. I observed two young men of smart appearance standing on the doorstep and a couple more peering in at the windows. It was a busy day for the Press.
“Nice fellow, young Redding,” I remarked, to see what my companion would say.
He was so out of breath by this time that he found it difficult to say anything, but he puffed out a word which I did not at first quite catch.
“Dangerous,” he gasped, when I asked him to repeat his remark.
“Dangerous?”
“Most dangerous. Innocent girls – know no better – taken in by a fellow like that – always hanging round women…. No good.”
From which I deduced that the only young man in the village had not passed unnoticed by the fair Gladys.
“Goodness,” ejaculated Dr. Stone. “The train!”
We were close to the station by this time and we broke into a fast sprint. A down train was standing in the station and the up London train was just coming in.
At the door of the booking office we collided with a rather exquisite young man, and I recognised Miss Marple’s nephew just arriving. He is, I think, a young man who does not like to be collided with. He prides himself on his poise and general air of detachment, and there is no doubt that vulgar contact is detrimental to poise of any kind. He staggered back. I apologised hastily and we passed in. Dr. Stone climbed on the train and I handed up his baggage just as the train gave an unwilling jerk and started.