No particular comment was excited by Raymond’s absence at tea-time. Bart knew that he had been at the stables, and supposed him to have ridden up to the stud-farm. Bart himself had gone to Trellick after lunch, to look over the place, and to decide what alterations would be needed in the house before he and Loveday could take possession of it. He wondered how soon it would be before Raymond could give the bailiff at present in charge of the farm notice to leave; and hoped very much that it would not be necessary to wait for probate. His father’s death, followed as it had been by his quarrel with Conrad, had made Trevellin horrible to him. He would not enter the huge, deserted room at the end of the house, and could scarcely bear even to pass its closed doors. Even the sight of Penhallow’s fat spaniel had upset him, but the old dog, as though aware that of all Penhallow’s children he had most loved him, attached herself to him, waddling at his heels whenever he was in the house, and fixing him with a mournful, appealing gaze which touched his pity, and made him adopt her, and most forcibly veto Eugene’s suggestion that she should be shot.
Clifford had motored up to Trevellin to see how the family did, but he had not brought Rosamund with him. He had come as near to quarrelling with Rosamund as was possible for a man of his sunny temper. Rosamund never favourably disposed towards the Penhallows, was so shocked by the news that they seemed likely to have been involved in a particularly unpleasant scandal that she had represented to Clifford in the strongest terms the wisdom of cutting all connection with the family. She told him that he owed it to his social position, and to his daughters’ futures, to demonstrate to the world at large that he had no commerce with his cousins at all. Clifford was really angry with her, and he had gone off to his office that morning without kissing her good-bye, a circumstance which marked a milestone in their lives. Clifford, who had spent his boyhood under Penhallow’s roof, was grieved by his death, and deeply distressed by the manner of it. He could not do enough, he said, to show his sympathy with his cousins; and as for casting them off, he hoped he was not such a sanctimonious swine as to consider doing such a thing for an instant.
What he had heard of the Inspector’s investigations worried him very much. At first certain that Jimmy the Bastard must have murdered Penhallow, he had been forced to the reluctant belief that the crime had been committed by some member of the family: Raymond, or Clay, or even Faith, whose slightly hysterical behaviour on the day that she had visited his office he could not quite banish from his mind. He found himself thinking about what they must do if the worst came to the worst, and the police discovered sufficient evidence to justify the arrest of one of these suspects. We must brief the best counsel possible, he thought. No half-measures about it: thank God there’s no lack of means to pay for the defence!
He had not heard about the arrest of Jimmy in Bristol until he reached Trevellin, but it was told him then by Eugene, who added that they were all breathless with expectation because of what Jimmy had said on being apprehended.
Clifford’s round face was almost comic in its look of concern. He shook his head over this news, and said heavily that he didn’t like it at all.
"Oh, don’t you?” said Aubrey. “That’s probably because you’re not implicated in this tiresome affair. You can have simply no idea what an appalling effect being a suspect has upon one’s character. I mean, it’s too daunting. Take me, for instance! The instant I heard that Jimmy had an important disclosure to make I felt ten years younger. I did really. Because though I don’t know what ghastly secret he’s going to divulge I do know that it can’t be about me.”
“I wouldn’t believe what Jimmy said on oath!” declared Bart, his brow beginning to lower.
“Wouldn’t you, Bart dear? But isn’t that because you’ve got this touching idée fixe about none of us being capable of killing Father? Or are you afraid that he knows something awful about Loveday?”
“No, I’m not!” Bart said, looking dangerous. “And I’ll thank you to keep your tongue off Loveday!”
Clifford intervened, telling Aubrey to shut up, and reproving Bart for rising to obvious baits. When the tea tray was brought in, Faith and Vivian entered the room, and Clifford soon seized the opportunity to sit down beside Faith, and to ask her whether he was correct in assuming that Clay no longer proposed to enter his office. Before she could reply, Clay himself, who was standing close enough to overhear the question, said rather hastily that he hadn’t made up his mind what he was going to do. Everyone looked rather surprised at this unexpected statement, except Aubrey, who said immediately: “I do think Clay’s efforts to avert suspicion from himself are too utterly arid! Anything more convincing, little brother, than...”
“Be quiet, Aubrey!” Faith said sharply. “No, I don’t wish Clay to be a solicitor, Cliff. I — I don’t quite know how things stand, whether I shall be able to afford — or whether Adam made provision for him?”
“Didn’t Uncle tell you?” Clifford asked. “But you know the terms of your marriage settlements, don’t you?”
It was so obvious that she had only the vaguest idea of what these might be that as soon as he had finished his tea Clifford suggested that she might like him to explain to her exactly how she stood, peculiarly speaking. As she accepted this offer gratefully, they both withdrew to the morning-room, just as Conrad came in.
Conrad exchanged a brief greeting with his cousin, but waited until the door had shut behind him and Faith before divulging the news he had learnt at the stables. “Look here!” he said. “There’s something damned odd up! Courtier’s come in, without his bridle!”
“What?” said Charmian. “Come in without his bridle? What on earth do you mean?”
“Just exactly what I said! Ray took him out this afternoon, not long after lunch, and they say at the stables that he rode off towards the stud-farm.”
“Peculiar,” said Eugene, reaching out his hand for a sandwich. “But hardly worth all this suppressed excitement, I feel. One supposes that Ray decided to go farther, and sent the horse home. You will probably find that he caught the bus into Bodmin.”
“But Ray never did such a thing in his life!” Conrad objected. “Besides, why shouldn’t he have ridden into Bodmin?”
“Too hot,” said Eugene, yawning. “I expect it would be too much to ask of Sybilla that she should send up some other sandwiches than cucumber. One would have thought that she must have known by now that cucumber is poison to me.”
Bart jumped up. “To hell with you and your fads!” he exclaimed. “Something’s wrong! Something must have happened to Ray!”
“Well, I don’t know,” said Clara, rubbing the end of her nose. “It’s a queer thing to do, but I don’t see that there’s any need to get in a fuss about it. If Courtier had had his bridle on, I should have said Ray had had a tumble, but if he took it off the gee, there can’t be much wrong.”
“Ray may be hurt,” Bart said, hurriedly swallowing the rest of his tea in a couple of gulps. He glanced towards his twin, and his voice hardened. “Did you send anyone out to look for him?”
“No, I didn’t,” replied Conrad. “Why should I? If Ray were hurt, he wouldn’t have been able to unbridle the horse. Or if he was able to, then he must also have been able to mount him again. He probably had his reasons for sending Courtier home.”
Aubrey wandered across the room to hand his cup to Clara. “My dear, how thrilling!” he remarked. “Personally, I feel sure Ray has fled the country.”
“Thai isn’t funny!” Bart rapped out.
“Oh, don’t you think so? I find that there’s something exquisitely humorous in the idea that Ray-the-Imperturbable may be fleeing from justice. Obviously, the news that Jimmy is about to divulge what he quarrelled with Father about has proved to be too much for his stoical unconcern.”
“You swine!” Bart said, through his teeth, and tried to knock him down.
Aubrey, who had been watching him closely under his lazy eyelids, saw the blow coming, and dodged it, closing with his young brother an instant afterwards, and grabbing his right arm. “Now, Bart! Now, my little one!” he said soothingly. “I should simply hate to break your arm, lovey, so don’t struggle! I did warn you, didn’t I?”
“Let go!”
“That’s another of the Crown Derby cups gone,” said Clara, gloomily picking up the pieces. “I wish you boys wouldn’t be so rough.”
“Oh, what a good deed!” said Aubrey, letting Bart go. “I do hope it was I who knocked it over? I can’t think of anything as repellent as Crown Derby.”
“Damn you!” Bart said, massaging his arm. “It’s just like you to learn a lot of filthy. Japanese tricks! I’m going down to organise a search-party!”
“Isn’t that touching?” Aubrey said, addressing the room at large, as Bart walked out. “Shall we get up a sweepstake on what has happened to Ray?”
“Come to think of it, it is queer,” remarked Clara, looking rather worried. “What can have possessed him to go settin’ his horse loose? I don’t see any sense in it. Unless he’s trainin’ him for somethin’.”
“Training him for what, darling Clara? A circus?”
“No, he wouldn’t do that,” Clara said decidedly.
“I wonder if Aubrey’s right?” put in Clay. “I mean, do you think he can possibly have got the wind up, and made off somewhere?”
“Do, for heaven’s sake, learn to recognise a joke when you hear one!” begged Eugene wearily.
“Well, it’s all very well, but I don’t see —”
“Hush!” said Aubrey. “Can’t you see that your brothers are sick and tired of the sound of your voice, child?”
Clay said angrily: “Considering I’ve only made one remark during the past twenty minutes, I call that rich! You seem to think...”
“One remark in twenty minutes is all we have patience to bear,” said Aubrey firmly.
Clay got up, scraping his chair aggressively. “This place was bad enough before you came home, but it’s absolutely bloody now!” he said, and stalked out of the room.
“Well, that’s got rid of him,” said Aubrey, sinking into the most comfortable chair he could find.
“You shouldn’t tease the boy,” Clara said, shaking her head. “I daresay he won’t be here much longer.”
“That is a very lovely thought, Clara love, and practically the only one that at all sustains me during this trying time.”
“I think I’ll step round to the stables, and see what’s happenin’,” Clara decided, in her inconsequent way.
“The more I think of it the less I like the sound of it.”
Vivian, who had all the time been silent, watched her trail out of the room, and then glanced at Aubrey. “Did you mean that? Do you really think it’s got something to do with the police finding Jimmy? Could he have runaway?”
“My pet, don’t you think he would have taken his car if he had been running away?” suggested Eugene, tweaking her ear.
“Yes, I suppose he would,” she agreed, with a short sigh.
Clifford came back into the room just then, and announced that since there did not seem to be anything he could do, he thought he would be getting back to Liskeard. He wanted to know where his mother was, and when he heard what had taken her down to the stables, he looked rather startled, and said that he hoped to God nothing had happened to Raymond. “Perhaps I’d better wait to see that he’s all right,” he said. “I’ll go and see what they’re doing about sending out to search for him.”
“He’ll turn up all right,” replied Conrad indifferently.
However, Clifford continued to look grave, and took himself off to join Clara. They both returned half-an hour later, with little to report, except that Bart had sent several grooms off in various directions, and had himself ridden up towards the Moor.
“One of the men saw him by the Upper Paddock, watching the colts,” said Clifford. “But that was some hours ago! I can’t make out where he can possibly have gone to. He hasn’t been to the stud-farm, according to Mawgan. The whole thing is utterly incomprehensible!”
“Oh, I hope there isn’t more trouble comin’ upon us!” Clara said, her gaunt countenance wrinkled into lines of foreboding.
Charmian, who had been sitting apart from the others, reading a book, looked up to say dryly: “Well, if you’re wise, you won’t say anything about this to Faith, until we discover just what has happened. Judging by what I can see of the state she’s in, I should say that she’d go into hysterics on the slightest provocation.”
“Lord, Faith wouldn’t worry her head over Ray!” Conrad said scornfully.
“Listen! What’s that?” Clara said sharply.
“Only Ingram,” Conrad answered, recognising the halting tread.
The door was thrust open; Ingram, his florid countenance strangely pale, and an expression of scarcely controlled excitement in his eyes, came in, and swallowed twice before he could manage to speak. “My God!” he uttered, dragging his handkerchief from his pocket, and passing it over his face. “Have you heard? No, I know you haven’t. Gosh, I can’t get over it!”
He was so obviously struggling under the burden of strong emotion that even Eugene was roused from his pose of languid boredom. “Well, what is it?” he demanded. “Don’t stand there gobbling at us, Ingram!”
“Ray!” Ingram jerked out. “Ray!”
“Yes, dear, we’ve already grasped that you have come to tell us something about Ray,” said Aubrey kindly. “Has he attempted to fly the country, or what?”
“He’s shot himself!”
A moment’s shocked, incredulous silence greeted this announcement. Conrad broke it. “Christ.”
Clara gave a moan, and collapsed on to the sofa, rocking herself dumbly to and fro. Charmian sprang up from her chair. “It isn’t possible!”
“I tell you he has! Good God, you don’t think I’d make up such a story, do you? What do you take me for? It’s true!”
“But how — where — when?” stammered Conrad, almost as white as Ingram himself.
“Blew his brains out. Up by Dozmary Pool,” Ingram replied, still mopping his brow.
Conrad started forward. “Bart didn’t find him?” he cried.
“Bart? No! Some trippers — I don’t know who they were. They drove straight into Bodmin, and reported it at the police station there. I don’t know when it was. Really, I feel absolutely dazed! It was all I could do to take it in when that fellow — what’s-his-name? — the Inspector — rang me up just now. You could have knocked me down with a feather! Of course, it’s obvious why he did it, but somehow I never thought that Ray, of all people on this earth — But he did: no doubt about that!”
“Look out!” Charmian said warningly.
Faith stood in the doorway, her eyes wide and questioning. “Ray? What did you never think about Ray? Why are you all looking like that? What is it?”
No one answered her. She stared at Clara, at the tears coursing silently down her cheeks, and asked falteringly: “Clara, what is it? Why don’t you tell me, one of you? What has happened?”
“Ray’s shot himself,” Conrad said curtly.
She stood rock-still, her jaw sagging queerly, her eyes fixed uncomprehendingly on his face. Charmian went across the room towards her, saying: “Pull yourself together, Faith! It’s no worse for you than for the rest of us. We shan’t do any good by making fools of ourselves. Aubrey, go and fetch the brandy from the dining-room! She’s going to faint!”
Even as she spoke, Faith crumpled up where she stood, with no more than a sigh.
“Go on, Aubrey, quick!” Charmian commanded, dropping on her knees beside Faith, and pulling open the neck of her dress. “I knew this would happen! Do get out of the way, Ingram! I can manage perfectly well without your assistance. She’ll be all right in a moment. It was the shock of hearing that fool Con blurt it out like that.”
“Oughtn’t we to get her on to the sofa?” asked Vivian, hovering rather impotently beside Charmian.
“No, she’ll come round quicker where she is. Anyone got any smelling-salts? Ammonia will do, if you haven’t.”
“I’ve got some. I’ll get them!” Vivian said, running out of the room.
By the time she had returned, Faith had come out of her faint, and was being forced to swallow a few sips of neat brandy. She was trembling from head to foot, icily cold, and a little dazed. She whispered: “Did I faint? Why — what — I can’t think what made me!” She lifted one shaking hand to her head. “Oh, my hair! How stupid! I’m all right now. So silly of me! But what...”
She broke off, as memory came creeping back, and turned her head sharply away. “Oh, no! Oh, no!” she gasped.
“Steady!” Charmian said. “Help me get her on to the sofa, one of you!”
Ingram bent to lift Faith bodily from the ground.
“Take it easy, now!” he recommended. “Frightful shock, I know. Fairly turned me sick when I heard it, I can tell you. There! You’re better now, aren’t you?”
Clara, who had not ceased to rock herself to and fro, and had paid as little heed to Faith as to Clifford.
who was clumsily patting her shoulder, said in a broken voice: “He went up to see the Demon colt. He thought the world of that colt. I shan’t ever be able to bear seein’ it again. Poor boy, poor boy, goin’ like that, all alone!”
“He killed Father, Aunt Clara,” Ingram said grimly.
“Shut up!” Conrad flung at him.
“No use blinking facts, Con old man.”
“Shut up, I said! It’s too ghastly! Ray! Ray.”
Faith struggled up from the cushions on which they had laid her, pushing Charmian away in a distraught fashion. “Don’t touch me!” she panted. “Let me go! Please let me go! I can’t — I can’t — Oh, no, no, no, no!”
Her voice rose so wildly that Charmian, fearing that she was going to fall into a fit of hysterics, took her by the shoulders, and shook her ruthlessly. “Faith, stop it! Stop it at once, do you hear me? Be quiet!”
Faith caught her breath on a strangled sob, and stared up into her face, terror in her dilated eyes. “Be quiet,” she repeated. “Yes, I must be quiet. I mustn’t say anything. This isn’t real. None of it happened. It couldn’t have happened. I’m not very well. I want Loveday.”
“All right.” Charmian spoke over her shoulder to Conrad: “We’d better get her up to her room. Give her your arm, will you?”
Faith allowed herself to be lifted to her feet. She staggered, and clung to Conrad, but she was able to walk to the door. Charmian, arming herself with the smelling salts and the brandy, prepared to follow, commanding Vivian, before she left the room, to find Loveday, tell her what had happened, and send her up to her mistress’s room.
“I could wish that Char hadn’t taken the brandy away,” said Aubrey, when the little cortege had withdrawn. “Really, I feel too dreadfully shaken myself! Because, if you want the truth, I never actually believed that Ray was the guilty one. And now I’m utterly dumbfounded at Faith’s wholly unexpected reaction to the news. I don’t want to be lewd, or even flippant, but is it possible that there was more between her and Ray than any of us guessed?”
“No, it isn’t!” snapped Vivian. “Though it’s just like you to suggest it! I could very easily start screaming myself. I suppose you think it’s merely funny!”
“Not in the least funny, sweet one. Definitely un-funny, in fact.”
“Just keep quiet, will you, Aubrey?” interposed Clifford. “Ingram, I think I’d better go down to the police-station at once. There will be various things — I take it you’d like me to act for you?”
“Damned good of you if you would, old man,” Ingram said. “You’ll know what ought to be done better than I should. Of course this puts the lid on the police investigation. Case is finished — and far better finished like this, than if — well, you know what I mean!”
“Did the Inspector tell you what Jimmy said, if he said anything?” asked Eugene.
“No, I didn’t ask him. I was so bowled over at the time I never even thought of it. It was only afterwards, when I was on my way up here, that I realised that that was what must have made Ray shoot himself. Knowing that Jimmy had been caught, and was going to spill the truth about his quarrel with Father, I mean. Well, I always thought that there was more to that than we were told.”
“Vivian, I wish you’d look after Mother while I’m gone,” Clifford said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Mother!”
“You mustn’t worry about me, Cliff. I shall be all right,” she replied. “I don’t want anyone to look after me. I think I’ll go up to my room for a bit. But somebody must find Bart, and break it to him gently. He’ll be very upset, for he was always the one who got on best with poor Ray. Oh, dear, oh, dear, that I should ever have lived to see such things happenin’ at Trevellin!”
Upstairs, meanwhile, Loveday Trewithian had taken charge of Faith, who had begun to cry, in a gasping, hysterical way that made Charmian try to induce her to swallow some more brandy. But as she would do nothing but push Charmian from her, imploring her to leave her alone, Loveday respectfully asked Charmian to go away, saying that she could manage her mistress better without her. As soon as Charmian had left the room, she took Faith in her arms, and held her comfortingly close, crooning endearments into her ear, and patting her soothingly. She could not understand much that Faith ,jerked out between her shattering sobs, so choked and incoherent were the words uttered, but she did not think that this mattered much, and went on saying Yes, yes, and Never mind, until Faith had exhausted herself. After that, she undressed her, and got her into bed, and obliged her to swallow a couple of aspirin tablets. Too worn out to resist, Faith merely whispered: “Don’t leave me! Don’t let anyone come in!”
“No, my poor dear, I won’t,” Loveday said, drawing up a chair, and sitting down by the bed. “There, let me stroke your hand, and send you to sleep! It’s been too much for you, and no wonder!”
“Loveday, Ray shot himself. Ray shot himself, Loveday! Because he thought the police were going to arrest him. Loveday, I never knew Ray had had a dreadful quarrel with Adam! Loveday, how could I have known that? No one told me! But what could it have been? There wasn’t any need! If he’d only told me! Only he never told me anything. Loveday, I meant to be a good stepmother to Adam’s children, but how could I be when they wouldn’t let me? What shall I do? It’s too late, too late, too late!”
“Hush, now!” Loveday said. “There was nothing you could do to prevent it, my dear. You’ve nothing to blame yourself for. Shut your eyes, and try to get a little rest! You’ll be better presently.”
The hand she was holding shuddered perceptibly; to her dismay, Faith began to laugh wildly, while tears streamed down her face. A knock on the door fortunately penetrated to Faith’s ears, and startled her into silence. She said again: “Don’t let anyone come in!”
Clay opened the door, and showed a scared, white countenance. He checked, in obedience to a signal from Loveday, but said in a breathless tome: “Has Mother heard? Does she know...”
“Yes, of course she knows, you silly creature!” Loveday replied. “Go away, do! She doesn’t want to be bothered with you now.”
Of course, it’s a frightful business, but at the same time, one can’t help seeing that if Ray did it...”
“Will you go away, Mr Clay, before you drive your mother out of her mind with your chatter?” said Loveday, with considerable asperity.
He looked a good deal offended, but since his mother paid no heed to him he withdrew, after a moment’s hesitation. Faith lay quite still, her eyes fixed and haunted, her hand tightly grasping Loveday’s. Loveday remained beside her until the sound of hasty strides on the gravel drive outside made her lift her head, and listen intently. She disengaged her hand gently, and went over to the window, and looked down. “It’s Bart,” she said. “I must go down. He’ll be needing me.”
“Oh, don’t leave me!” Faith begged.
“It’s Bart,” Loveday repeated. “I must go. I’ll come back in a little while.”
She crossed to the door, and went out, softly closing it behind her.
Bart had entered the house, and flung his riding-whip on to the table. Conrad came quickly out of the Yellow drawing-room, and started towards him, catching him by the arms in a hard grip. “Twin! Twin, don’t!” he said rather thickly. “For God’s sake, Bart!”
Bart threw him off violently. “Leave me alone, can’t you?” he said, with suppressed passion. “Keep off, damn you! I’ve got nothing to say to you!”
Ingram, who had followed Conrad out of the drawing room, tried to intervene. “Come, old chap, you mustn’t give way! I know it’s been a shock, and all that, but—”
“Get to hell out of my way!” Bart shot out, white as a sheet. “A fat lot you care! A fat lot any of you care!”
“Bart-love!”
He looked up quickly to the stairs, where Loveday stood, one hand on the broad balustrade. His face twisted; he gave a dry sob, and went to the stairs, and stumbled blindly up them. She held out her arms to him, and folded him in them when he reached her, murmuring to him, stroking his black head.
“There, my love, there! Come along, then, my dear one, with Loveday!”
“O God, Loveday! O God, Loveday!”
“I know,” she said. “Do you come with me, my love!”
He flung his arm round her, and went with her up the remaining stairs. Below, in the hall, Conrad stared after them, his face as white as Bart’s, an expression of stark hatred in his eyes. Ingram said, in a maladroit attempt to console him: “He’s a bit upset, Con, that’s all. He’ll come round soon enough. I wouldn’t worry about it, if I were you.”
Conrad looked at him with bitter contempt, turned on his heel, and strode out of the house.
Ingram went back into the drawing-room, shaking his head over it. “Seems to be no end to our troubles,” he said heavily. “Now it’s the twins! Bart must have heard the news down at the stables. I can see I’m going to have my work cut out, keeping the peace between the pair of them.”
Aubrey looked up admiringly. “Oh, isn’t Ingram wonderful? I’m sure I should find it frightfully difficult to feel like a patriarch without a moment’s warning, but you can see it comes quite naturally to him.”
Ingram cast him a glance of dislike, but was prevented from answering him by the entrance of Reuben, who silently handed him a letter.
“What’s this?” Ingram said, recognising the handwriting. “Where did you find it?”
“It’s a letter from Mr Raymond, as anyone can see,” replied Reuben dourly. “It was on his desk. You’d better open it, instead of standing there gaping at it.”
“Damn your impudence, you old rascal!” Ingram said cheerfully, and tore open the envelope.
The key of the safe dropped on to the floor; he stooped, grunting, to pick it up, before reading the letter. While he read, the others watched him in pent-up silence.
“Well, I’m damned!” he ejaculated, when he came to the end of the letter. "Just like him! Gosh, he was always a cold-blooded devil, but this fairly takes the cake! Here, Eugene, what do you make of this?”
He handed the letter to his younger brother as he spoke, but as Vivian, Charmian, Aubrey, and Reuben all tried to read it over his shoulder, Eugene had some difficulty in mastering its contents. Charmian settled the matter by twitching it out of his hand, and reading it aloud. When she came to the end, there was a moment’s silence. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Vivian burst into tears.
“My pet!” exclaimed Eugene, putting his arm round her.
She groped for her handkerchief, and fiercely blew her nose, saying huskily: “I never even liked him, but I think it’s awful! To write a letter like that, m-making everything as easy as possible for Ingram, not even m-mentioning what he meant to do! Oh, don’t you see how dreadfully tragic it is? Sorry! I’m a bit on edge. I didn’t mean to make a scene.”
“Trust Ray to be businesslike up to the end!” Ingram said, holding out his hand for the letter. “Give it back, will you, Char? I shall have to show it to the police. Pretty conclusive, I imagine. With any luck, we ought to be able to get through this affair with the minimum amount of scandal.”
Vivian flushed angrily, and said, stammering a little: “You call Ray cold-blooded! My God, what do you think you are? You stand there talking about the scandal, when this frightful thing has happened! As though that were the only thing that counted!”
“What you all of you seem to be in danger of forgetting,” retorted Ingram, “is that Ray, on whom you’re squandering so much pity, murdered Father!”
“I don’t care if he did!” Vivian cried, unable to contain herself. “It was the best day’s work he ever did in his life, and I only wish he’d got away with it!”