Susan retrieved the car from the quarry where she had left it and
drove it into the village. There was a petrol pump but no garage and she
was advised to take it to the King's Arms. They had room for it there
and she left it by a big Daimler which was preparing to go out. It was
chauffeur driven and inside it, very much muffled up, was an elderly
foreign gentleman with a large moustache.
The boy to whom Susan was talking about the car was staring at her
with such rapt attention the he did not seem to be taking in half of
what she said.
Finally he said in an awe-stricken voice:
"You're her niece, aren't you?"
"What?"
"You're the victim's niece," the boy repeated with relish.
"Oh - yes - yes, I am."
"Ar! Wondered where I'd seen you before."
"Ghoul," thought Susan as she retraced her steps to the cottage.
Miss Gilchrist greeted her with:
"Oh, you're safely back," in tones of relief which further annoyed her. Miss Gilchrist added anxiously:
"You can eat spaghetti, can't you? I thought for tonight -"
"Oh yes, anything. I don't want much."
"I really flatter myself that I can make a very tasty spaghetti au gratin."
The boast was not an idle one. Miss Gilchrist, Susan reflected, was
really an excellent cook. Susan offered to help wash up but Miss
Gilchrist, though clearly gratified by the offer, assured Susan that
there was very little to do.
She came in a little while later with coffee. The coffee was less
excellent, being decidedly weak. Miss Gilchrist offered Susan a piece of
the wedding cake which Susan refused.
"It's really very good cake," Miss Gilchrist insisted, tasting it.
She had settled to her own satisfaction that it must have been sent by
someone whom she alluded to as "dear Ellen's daughter who I know was
engaged to be married but I can't remember her name."
Susan let Miss Gilchrist chirrup away into silence before starting
her own subject of conversation. This moment, after supper, sitting
before the fire, was a companionable one.
She said at last:
"My Uncle Richard came down here before he died, didn't he?"
"Yes, he did."
"When was that exactly?"
"Let me see - it must have been one, two - nearly three weeks before his death was announced."
"Did he seem - ill?"
"Well, no, I wouldn't say he seemed exactly ill. He had a very
hearty vigorous manner. Mrs Lansquenet was very surprised to see him.
She said, 'Well, really, Richard, after all these years!' And he said,
'I came to see for myself exactly how things are with you.' And Mrs
Lansquenet said, 'I'm all right.' I think, you know, she was a teeny bit
offended by his turning up so casually - after the long break. Anyway
Mr Abernethie said, 'No use keeping up old grievances. You and I and
Timothy are the only ones left - and nobody can talk to Timothy except
about his own health.' And he said, 'Pierre seems to have made you
happy, so it seems I was in the wrong. There, will that content you?'
Very nicely he said it. A handsome man, though elderly, of course."
"How long was he here?"
"He stayed for lunch. Beef olives, I made. Fortunately it was the day the butcher called."
Miss Gilchrist's memory seemed to be almost wholly culinary.
"They seemed to be getting on well together?"
