Upon the following morning, his inebriety having worn off, Roger cheerfully explained his condition as having been due to enforced abstinence for so long. This roused Kenneth to tell him exactly how many bottles of whisky he had consumed since his arrival at the studio, but Roger merely said: “Well, you don't call that anything, do you?” and the conversation dropped.
Violet came in soon after breakfast, a circumstance which induced Kenneth, still in a bitter mood, to ask her savagely whether she ever did any work at all. He himself was in his overall, scowling at the half-finished canvas on the easel. Violet refused to take offence at his tone, and replied that she had already sent off a couple of fashion drawings by post, and thought that she was entitled to a holiday.
“I see,” said Kenneth. “Devoting it to me, of course.”
“No, dear, I'm not,” replied Violet calmly. “You are far too disagreeable, let me tell you. I'm going to try and fix your half-brother up in a place of his own.”
“Sweet of you, my pet. I hope he'll appreciate all this pure altruism.”
Violet stood for a moment, her lips slightly compressed. The she walked across the room to Kenneth's side, and laid her hand on his arm. “Kenneth dear, will you try and be reasonable?” she begged. “We must get Roger away from here. He's making you impossible to live with. You know quite well he'll never move unless he's made to, and if neither you nor Tony will do anything about it, it's up to me. I think you might be a little grateful, I must say.”
“You're doing it for what you can get out of him,” said Kenneth.
She was silent for a moment. Then she said: “Well, what if I am? Why shouldn't he do something for us? I don't want to be poor, if you do.”
He looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Gold-digging, eh? Do you care for anything else, my girl? Do you?”
She stiffened. “I'm not going to be spoken to like that, Kenneth. I'll go.”
There was a pause. Kenneth had turned back to his work, for the first time indifferent to her anger. She moved towards the door, but looked back before she opened it. Her voice changed. She said gently: “If you want to break off our engagement, please tell me! Do you, Kenneth?”
He did not answer for a moment, but swung round and stood looking at her under scowling brows. “I don't know,” he said at last.
She remained quite still, fixing her great eyes on his. He put down his palette suddenly, and strode across the floor to her side, and pulled her roughly into his arms. “No. No, I don't. Damn you, you've no heart, but I'm just going to paint you like that, against the door, with the light falling just so.”
She returned his embrace, and took his face between her slender hands. “Try not to mistrust me, darling. It hurts.”
“Leave Roger alone, then,” he replied.
“Yes, dear, as soon as I've got him out of this place I will,” she promised. “You can't really suppose that he's of any interest to me!”
He let the subject drop, but might well have pursued it more rigorously had he but heard what his half-brother was saying to Antonia at that very moment.
Roger, who said that the sight of Kenneth dabbing at a picture was very unrestful, had sought refuge in the kitchen, where he found Antonia busily engaged in ironing handkerchiefs. This was a hardly less disturbing sight than that of an artist at work, but it had the advantage of being unaccompanied by the smell of turpentine. Having ascertained that Murgatroyd had gone out to do the marketing, Roger sank into the basket-chair by the fire, and lit a cigarette.
“You'll catch it if Murgatroyd comes in,” Antonia warned him.
“I daresay she won't for a bit,” said Roger hopefully. “That girl's here again.”
“Who? Violet?”
“She's going to find me a service-flat.”
“Good,” said Antonia. “The sooner the better.”
“Now, don't you get spiteful!” said Roger. “Because for one thing I quite like you, and for another I've got a good idea.”
“Why on earth do you like me?” demanded Antonia, curious but ungrateful.
“I don't know. You can't account for these things. Mind you, I don't like that pimple you've got yourself engaged to, but that's neither here nor there, and as far as I can see you won't marry him. However, that wasn't what I wanted to say. This Violet-girl.”
“What about her?”
“Well, I think it would be a good idea to get rid of her. I mean, do you want her joining the family?”
“Not particularly.”
“Of course not. Who would? I know her type. Give her three months, and she'll be managing the lot of us, and talking me into giving Kenneth more money than I've got. You may think I don't bother my head over these things, but that's where you're wrong. When I haven't got anything else to do I think a lot, and, of course, it's quite obvious that she's not at all the sort of girl Kenneth ought to marry.”
“How do you propose to stop him?”
“Well,” said Roger, tipping the ash of his cigarette vaguely in the direction of the stove. “Kenneth seems to be a jealous young cub. Flies off the handle at nothing. My idea was that if I took Violet about a bit it might lead to the engagement's being broken off.”
“Yes,” said Antonia. “But it might lead to a new one's being formed.”
A gleam crept into Roger's eyes. “If she's clever enough to catch me, she can keep me,” he said. “She won't be the first to try, not by a long chalk.”
“It's not a bad idea,” Antonia said slowly. “Only I doubt if you'll succeed in taking Violet in. She's no fool.”
“Anyway,” said Roger, “she might just as well be useful as not, and there's bound to be a lot to do settling me into a flat.”
“Are you trying to lure Violet just to move you into a flat?” Antonia inquired scornfully.
“Well, someone's got to do it,” he pointed out. “Not that that's my only reason, because it isn't. Far from it. Now I've come into all this money I shall go about a bit here and there, and she's a very good sort of girl to take around. What I mean is, she's smart, and she won't want me to think out what she'd like to eat. If there's one thing that wears me out quicker than anything it's having to choose a lot of food for someone else to eat. Besides, if she's supposed to be going to be my sister-in-law I shan't have to be polite. Not that I want to be rude, but I find ceremony very exhausting. And, talking of things being exhausting, they tell me I own the mine now.”
“I thought it was a limited company.”
“Yes, but I've got all Arnold's shares, which apparently gives me control. Of course I've nothing against holding the shares, but I'm not going to control the mine. It's absurd. I suppose Kenneth wouldn't like to be chairman?”
“I shouldn't think so,” said Antonia indifferently. “But why worry? You may be arrested for murdering Arnold before you have to think about appointing chairmen.”
Roger blinked at her, and said uneasily: “I don't see why you need to bring that up, just when I'd forgotten about it. The fact of the matter is I don't like it. Not that I did murder Arnold, because such an idea never entered my head, but it's no good saying people don't get convicted of crimes they didn't commit. Very often they do. Let alone that it's very disturbing to have a lot of detectives with their eyes glued on you. That's one reason why I shall be glad to get out of this place. I can't stand having that Superintendent bobbing in and out like a dog at a fair. It's not my idea of comfort, by any means. If he thinks he's going to treat my flat like his own house he's mistaken, and that's all there is to it.”
Antonia put the iron back on the stove. “Giles wants to know why you can't live in Eaton Place,” she observed.
“Because I don't want to be bothered with a great house like that, and a lot of servants worrying me to know whether I'll be in to lunch, and what I'd like to wear. Besides, if you run a pack of servants you have to look after them. I've already told Kenneth he can have Eaton Place, which, of course, is why Violet's so keen on fixing me up in a flat.”
“One thing I will say for you, Roger,” remarked Antonia, preparing to depart, “you may be an ass in some ways, but there aren't many flies on you. All the same, there aren't many on Violet either, so don't be too optimistic about cutting Kenneth out.” She paused, as a thought occurred to her, and added: “I suppose you couldn't see your way to marrying her? Then Kenneth could marry Leslie, and everything would be splendid. Violet would make you rather a good wife, too.”
“No one would make me a good wife,” replied Roger simply. “Moreover, if by Leslie you mean that girl who was here yesterday, I don't think it would be splendid at all. We shouldn't get on. Every time I meet her, she looks at me as though she'd like to murder me. It's very unnerving, I can tell you.”
At this moment the door opened, and Violet looked into the kitchen. “Oh, you are here!” she said. “I heard someone talking, so I thought it must be you two.”
Antonia could not help wondering how much she had heard, and had the grace to blush. However, Violet was not paying any attention to her. She suggested to Roger that they should go out together to look at flats, and added, with a thoughtful glance at his suit, that she knew of a very good tailor if he had not already got one of his own.
Antonia, seeing Roger go off meekly in Violet's wake, was more than ever convinced that she would be the very person for him to marry.
The events of the next few days did nothing to weaken this conviction. Not only was Roger installed in a furnished flat, but an entire wardrobe was purchased for him, so that Kenneth regained possession of his shirts and pyjamas, and Murgatroyd was induced to look upon Violet for the first time with approval.
Roger was so well pleased with his flat that he roused himself sufficiently to give a dinner-party as a sort of house-warming, and invited not only his half-brother and sister, but Violet and tiles as well. He did not invite Mesurier, for various comprehensive reasons which he was quite ready to expound to any and everybody. It had naturally been impossible to keep Mesurier's financial antics a secret from him, and he was only deterred from dismissing him from the firm by Kenneth's warning that to do so would be tantamount to fixing the date of his wedding to Antonia. “If you want that tailor's-dummy for a brother-in-law, let me tell you that I don't!” said Kenneth.
“Certainly not,” said Roger. “In fact, that was why I thought I'd sack him. Though, mind you, I should like to sack him on my own account, because for one thing I don't care for him, and for another I'm all for sacking someone just to see what it feels like.”
“I suppose you only know what it feels like to be sacked,” remarked Kenneth waspishly.
“Exactly,” nodded Roger, utterly impervious to this or any other insult. “And, funnily enough, the last time I got the boot it was for almost the same thing. Only, as it happens, I wasn't thinking of paying the money back. I don't say I mightn't have thought of it, if I'd had any means of doing it, but I hadn't. However, if you think sacking Mesurier will make Tony marry him, I won't do it. Because if she marries him she'll expect me to call him Rudolph, and I don't mind telling you that I don't like the name. In fact, I think it's a damn silly name. What's more, if I had to call him by it I should feel very self-conscious. Not that I really like tiles either, but that's merely a matter of taste. There's nothing against the name as a name, nothing at all.”
He startled Kenneth, who looked up quickly and said: “Giles? Do you mean - Rot! She hasn't been on speaking terms with him for months!”
“I don't know anything about that,” answered Roger. “All I do know is that if this Rudolph excrescence can be shifted, Tony will marry Giles.”
“Well, I hope you may be right,” said Kenneth. “Giles is a nice chap. I must keep an eye on them.”
“If you take my advice you'll keep your eye on your own pictures,” said Roger. “I don't say I wouldn't rather look at almost anything else myself, but probably you don't feel like that about them.”
“I don't,” said Kenneth, on whom such inexpert criticism of his work made no impression at all. “And don't go putting your foot into it by sacking Mesurier.”
“Well, all right,” agreed Roger. “Only I won't have him at my party.”
Mention of the party made Kenneth at once point out to him that his home-coming was no occasion for rejoicing for anyone but himself. He said that he had no intention of being present, but in the end he was present, not as a result of any persuasion on Roger's part, but because Violet had coaxed him into it. She was unusually kind to him throughout the evening, and paid so little heed to Roger that he became quite good-humoured after a while, and even enlisted Roger's support in an argument with Violet on the question of whether or not it was indecent to attend a public dance within a fortnight of Arnold's death. As this discussion was started in the restaurant which was attached to the flats, and conducted with a total disregard for whoever might overhear, a good many shocked glances were cast at the Verekers' table, and one stickler for the proprieties spent the rest of the evening composing a letter of complaint to the landlord.
As might be expected, Violet was firm in refusing to countenance the bare notion of appearing at the ball, which was to take place three days later. She said that there was such a thing as respect to the dead, to which Kenneth replied that he had no more respect for Arnold dead than he had had for Arnold alive. “Besides, I paid thirty bob for the tickets, and I'm going to use them,” he added.
“You could sell them,” Violet pointed out. “Don't you agree with me that he ought to, Mr Carrington?”
“Yes, on the whole, I think I do,” replied Giles. “You're not going are you, Tony?”
“No,” said Antonia. “Because Rudolph can't manage that night.”
“If Violet won't come, I'll take you, Tony,” said Kenneth, glancing provocatively at his betrothed. “And if you won't, I'll take Leslie!”
“I've already told you, darling, I'm not going with you,” Violet said. “We should be bound to meet any number of people we know, and what they would think I daren't imagine. Tony can please herself, but I hope she has too much sense, let alone proper feeling, to go near the ball.”
“After this short speech, they all cheered,” said Kenneth instantly. “Will you come, Tony?”
“She's dining with me, and going to a show,” interposed Giles.
“I see. Thus evincing a proper respect for the dead.”
Giles laughed. “More or less. Will you come, Tony?”
“Yes, please,” said Antonia. “Is it a party, or just us?”
“Of course it's not a party,” said Kenneth. “Where's your sense of decency?”
“I've no doubt these little social convenances seem absurd to you, dear,” remarked Violet, “but Mr Carrington is perfectly right. Going to a public ball and dining quietly with someone at a restaurant are two entirely different things.”
“What a discerning mind you have got, my pet!” said Kenneth admiringly.
“Now, don't start quarrelling,” besought Roger. “Personally I've no objection to Kenneth's going to a ball, none at all. If I wanted to go to it, which I don't, I shouldn't bother about whether it was decent or not for an instant.”
“That we believe,” said Giles. “Oh, I'm your guest! Sorry, Roger, but you asked for it.”
“You needn't trouble about my feelings, because they're not easily hurt,” replied Roger. “My theory is that everybody should do just what they like. There's a great deal too much interference in this world. If Kenneth wants to go to a dance, why shouldn't he? And if Violet doesn't want to, that's her affair. I'll tell you what; you come and have dinner here with me, Violet.”
This casual invitation produced a noticeable tension in two at least of the party. Antonia, thinking it a trifle crude, scowled at Roger, and Kenneth fixed Violet with a smouldering gaze, awaiting her answer.
She excused herself gracefully, but failed to satisfy Kenneth, who harked back to the invitation on the way home, and informed her that in case she had any idea of spending the evening with Roger she could get rid of it immediately.
“Darling, how silly you are!” she sighed. “Of course, I'm not going to do any such thing! Didn't you hear me refuse?”
“I heard,” Kenneth said rather grimly. “But it also transpired, my love, in the course of Roger's artless chatter, that you dined with him two nights ago — a circumstance hitherto unknown to me.”
She coloured slightly. “Oh, you mean the night you were out!” she said. “Well, what if I did? Tony apparently went off with Rudolph, and poor Roger was left alone in the flat. I merely took pity on him.”
“You have a lovely nature, my sweet. I suppose it slipped your memory, which was why you forgot to tell me about it.”
“I knew you would make a ridiculous fuss if I did tell you,” replied Violet, in her calm way. “You're so taken up with your own grievance, Kenneth, that you don't see that Roger's really rather a pathetic figure.”
“No, I can't say that I do.”
“Well, I find him so. If he did commit the murder, of course it's dreadful, but I can't help feeling sorry for him. The whole thing is very much on his mind. I know he pretends it isn't, but he has the idea that the police are watching him all the time.”
“Form of DT,” said Kenneth callously. “The police haven't any more reason to suspect Roger than they have to suspect me. It's time we gave up thinking about it. No one will ever be arrested; and, what's more, the police know it. Are you coming to the Albert Hall Ball, or are you not?”
“But, darling, I've told you already—'
“Look here, Violet!” he said forcibly. “Let's get things straight! I've no use for any of your conventions, and I never shall have. If you mean to marry me you'll have to accept that.”
He sounded a little dangerous, and she at once stopped trying to argue with him, and set herself to coax him out of his bitter mood. When they parted he had softened towards her, and she had said that perhaps she would go to the ball with him if he was so set on it. A quarrel was thus happily averted, but when at half-past six on the day of the ball she arrived at the studio, and said gently that really she didn't think she could go after all, because she had a bad headache, Kenneth looked her up and down for one minute, and then strode over to the telephone and called Leslie Rivers' number.
Violet said nothing, but stood looking out of the window while Kenneth arranged to call for Leslie to take her out to dinner at a quarter to eight. Apparently Leslie had no scruples about attending the ball in his company, and it was with a glint of triumph in his eyes that Kenneth glanced towards his fiancée as he put down the receiver. “Go home and nurse your headache, darling,” he said sweetly. “Or have you other plans? I'm sorry I can't spare the time to discuss them with you, but I'm going to have a bath and change.”
Antonia, who had entered the room at the beginning of this scene, and had been a silent but critical audience of the whole, watched him go out, and then looked at Violet with a certain amount of contempt. “Well, you've mucked that pretty successfully,” she observed. “I should have thought anyone with a grain of sense would have known better than to have tried to pull that trick on Kenneth.”
“Would you?” said Violet smoothly.
“I should. If you'd stuck to your original No he probably wouldn't have gone - not that I can see that it matters whether he goes or doesn't. But if you wanted to make him utterly pig-headed about the whole thing, you've gone the right way to work. I never thought you were such an ass. Help me to do up this frock for the lord's sake! Giles will be here by seven, and I've got a couple of letters I must write before I go.”
Giles arrived at seven o'clock to find her standing in the middle of the room with Violet kneeling on the floor at her feet, mending a tear in the hem of her chiffon frock.
Antonia said penitently: “Oh, Giles, I'm so sorry to be late, but I had to dash off two letters, and then I went and stuck my heel through this accursed skirt. I shan't be a minute.”
“If only you'd stand still!” begged Violet. “You've got some ink on your finger, too.”
“I'll wash it off. Thanks awfully, Violet. Could you also find a couple of stamps, and stick them on my letters? Top drawer of my bureau, I think.”
“Yes, I'll see to them,” said Violet soothingly. “Hurry up and wash and get your cloak.” She found the stamps, after a little search, fixed them to the letters, and said with her slow smile: “Rather a miracle to find a stamp in this house. Tell Tony I've taken the letters and will post them on my way home, will you, Mr Carrington?”
“You are not going to the ball?” Giles asked. “I thought-”
“No, I am not going,” she replied. “I shall spend a quiet evening at home instead. I hope you enjoy your theatre. Good-night!”
He escorted her to the front door, and opened it for her. As he shut it again behind her Antonia came out of her bedroom, her evening-coat tumbled over her arm. He took it from her, and helped her to put it on. “Violet has gone,” he remarked. “I thought you told me she was going to the Albert Hall show after all?”
“Yes, but she changed her mind, and came to tell Kenneth so just now. So the balloon went up good and proper. Have you got my letters?”
“Violet took them.”
“Oh, that's all right then. I've been writing a pretty thank-you letter to Roger.”
“A what?” demanded Giles.
She grinned. “Yes, I thought you'd be surprised. But it had to be done. According to Rudolph, he drifted into the Shan Hills office this morning, and sent for Rudolph, and told him it was all right about cooking the accounts, and said he wasn't going to do anything about it. Rudolph rang me up at lunch-time, and I must say I think it's extremely decent of Roger - particularly as he doesn't like Rudolph. And if only we can clear Rudolph of suspicion of having done Arnold in, I can break off the engagement with a clear conscience,” she added happily.