Dennis, however, was highly entertained by the history of Mrs. Price Ridley’s telephone call, and went into fits of laughter as I enlarged upon the nervous shock her system had sustained and the necessity for reviving her with damson gin.
“Serve the old cat right,” he exclaimed. “She’s got the worst tongue in the place. I wish I’d thought of ringing her up and giving her a fright. I say, Uncle Len, what about giving her a second dose?”
I hastily begged him to do nothing of the sort. Nothing is more dangerous than the well-meant efforts of the younger generation to assist you and show their sympathy.
Dennis’s mood changed suddenly. He frowned and put on his man of the world air.
“I’ve been with Lettice most of the morning,” he said. “You know, Griselda, she’s really very worried. She doesn’t want to show it, but she is. Very worried indeed.”
“I should hope so,” said Griselda, with a toss of her head.
Griselda is not too fond of Lettice Protheroe.
“I don’t think you’re ever quite fair to Lettice.”
“Don’t you?” said Griselda
“Lots of people don’t wear mourning.”
Griselda was silent and so was I. Dennis continued:
“She doesn’t talk to most people, but she does talk to me. She’s awfully worried about the whole thing, and she thinks something ought to be done about it.”
“She will find,” I said, “that Inspector Slack shares her opinion. He is going up to Old Hall this afternoon, and will probably make the life of everybody there quite unbearable to them in his efforts to get at the truth.”
“What do you think is the truth, Len?” asked my wife suddenly.
“It’s hard to say, my dear. I can’t say that at the moment I’ve any idea at all.”
“Did you say that Inspector Slack was going to trace that telephone call – the one that took you to the Abbotts?”
“Yes.”
“But can he do it? Isn’t it a very difficult thing to do?”
“I should not imagine so. The Exchange will have a record of the calls.”
“Oh!” My wife relapsed into thought.
“Uncle Len,” said my nephew, “why were you so ratty with me this morning for joking about your wishing Colonel Protheroe to be murdered?”
“Because,” I said, “there is a time for everything. Inspector Slack has no sense of humour. He took your words quite seriously, will probably cross-examine Mary, and will get out a warrant for my arrest.”
“Doesn’t he know when a fellow’s ragging?”
“No,” I said, “he does not. He has attained to his present position through hard work and zealous attention to duty. That has left him no time for the minor recreations of life.”
“Do you like him, Uncle Len?”
“No,” I said, “I do not. From the first moment I saw him I disliked him intensely. But I have no doubt that he is a highly successful man in his profession.”
“You think he’ll find out who shot old Protheroe?”
“If he doesn’t,” I said, “it will not be for the want of trying.”
Mary appeared and said:
“Mr. Hawes wants to see you. I’ve put him in the drawing-room, and here’s a note. Waiting for an answer. Verbal will do.” I tore open the note and read it.
“DEAR MR. CLEMENT, – I should be so very grateful if you could come and see me this afternoon as early as possible. I am in great trouble and would like your advice.
Sincerely yours,
ESTELLE LESTRANGE.”
“Say I will come round in about half an hour,” I said to Mary. Then I went into the drawing-room to see Hawes.
CHAPTER XV
Hawes’s appearance distressed me very much. His hands were shaking and his face kept twitching nervously. In my opinion he should have been in bed, and I told him so. He insisted that he was perfectly well.
“I assure you, sir, I never felt better. Never in my life.”
This was obviously wide of the truth that I hardly knew how to answer. I have a certain admiration for a man who will not give in to illness, but Hawes was carrying the thing rather too far.
“I called to tell you how sorry I was that such a thing should happen in the Vicarage.”