Chapter 17 Chapter Seventeen

Mike threw the letter across the table to Rosamund. "How about it?" "Oh, let's go. Don't you think so?" Mike said slowly, "It's fine to go." "Possibly some jewellery...of course the house is pretty hideous...stuffed birds and wax flowers...disgusting!" "Yeah. It's kind of spooky. I'd actually like to do a sketch or two...especially the living room. Like, the fireplace in the living room, and that very quirky couch, just right for 'The Baron's Tour.' Scenario...if we could replay it." He stood up and looked at his watch.

"That reminds me. I have to see Luo Shenghan. I may come back later this evening. Don't wait for me. I want to have dinner with Oscar and talk about buying the play." "Dear Oscar. He will be delighted to see you. It's been a while. Say hello to them for me." Mike looked at her sharply.The smile disappeared from his face, giving him a look of predatory alertness. "What do you mean...haven't seen him for so long? Anyone would think I haven't seen him for months." "Oh, you haven't seen him, have you?" whispered Rosamund. "What, we just had lunch together a week ago."

"That's funny. Then he must have forgotten. He called yesterday to say he hasn't seen you since the first night of that 'Look West' play." "The old fool must have lost his head." Mike laughed.Rosamund stared at him calmly with wide blue eyes. "You think I'm a fool, don't you, Mike?" Mike argued: "My dear, of course I don't think so." "Yes, you think so. But I'm not an idiot. You never went to Oscar that day. I know where you've been." "Rosamund dear . . . what do you mean by that?" "I mean I know where you're actually going..."

Mike stared at his wife with an expression of uncertainty on his pretty face.She stared back at him, calm, composed. It occurred to him suddenly how bewildering the truly meaningless stare was. He said somewhat insincerely: "I don't know what you're after..." "I just mean: It's kind of ridiculous to lie to me so much." "Listen to me, Rosamund..." He was about to bluff...but his wife's gentle words shut him up: "We're trying to buy that play out with our right of first refusal, aren't we?" "It's not just thinking, it's a role I've always dreamed of."

"Yes... I mean that too." "What the hell do you mean?" "Oh...it's worth it, isn't it? But don't take too many risks." He gazed at her, and said slowly: "The money is yours... I know that. If you don't want to take the risk..." "It's our money, dear." Rosamund emphasized "our". "I think that's pretty important." "Listen, darling. Erin's character... deserves a lot of writing." Rosamund smiled. "I don't think... I really... want to play her." "My sweet girl," Mike gasped. "What's the matter with you?"

"nothing." "No, there's something. You've been different lately...emotional instability...nervous, what's the reason?" "Nothing. I just want you to...be careful, Mike." "Watch out for what? I've always been careful." "No, I don't think you're being careful. You've always thought you could get away with it and that everyone would believe what you told them to believe. What you said about Oscar the other day was not very smart." Mike blushed from embarrassment. "What about you? You said you went shopping with Jenny. In fact, you didn't. Jenny is in the United States and has been there for several weeks."

"Yes," said Rosamund. "I'm not smart either. I'm actually just going for a walk...to Ruijing Park." Mike looked at her with a strange expression. "Ruijing Park? You haven't taken a walk in Ruijing Park in your life. What's the matter? You have a boyfriend? No matter what you say, Rosamund, you haven't been the same lately. Why?" "I was thinking about something. Thinking about what to do..." Mike naturally walked around the table and hurried towards her.He exclaimed enthusiastically: "Honey...you know I love you like crazy!"

She responded satisfactorily to his embrace, but when they parted he was struck again by the strange shrewd look in her beautiful eyes. "No matter what I do, you always forgive me, don't you?" he asked. "I suppose so," said Rosamund vaguely. "That's not the problem. You know, it's different now. We have to think and plan." "Think and plan what?" Rosamund frowned and said: "It's not that you've done it and then it's over. It's actually a start, and then you have to plan what to do next, and think about what's important and what's not."

"Rosamont..." She sat down with a complicated expression, and her eyes were wide open, apparently not focused on Mike. McClane called her name three times, and she gradually recovered from the absent-minded state. "What did you say?" "I ask you, what are you thinking..." "Oh? Oh yes, I was wondering if I should go down south to...what's that place called?...Richett. St. Mary's, to meet that lady whose name is...that lives with Aunt Cora that." "why?" "Oh, she's leaving soon, isn't she? Go find her relatives or something. I don't think it's time to let her go before we ask her."

"Ask her what?" "Ask her who killed Aunt Cora." Mike's eyes widened. "You mean... you think she knows?" Rosamund said absently: "Oh yes, I guess so . . . she lives there, you know." "But she should have told the police." "Oh, I don't mean she knows who killed it... I just think maybe she knows quite well. Because of what Uncle Richard said when he went there." "But she won't hear what he says." "Oh yes, she will hear, dear." Rosamund's tone sounded as if she were arguing with an unreasonable child.

"It doesn't make sense. I don't quite believe that old Richard Abernether would talk about his suspicions of his family in front of outsiders." "Oh, of course: she'll overhear." "You mean, eavesdropping?" "I think so... As a matter of fact I'm sure. Two women living behind closed doors in a small house with nothing new going on except washing the dishes and letting the dogs and cats out for walks." , must be very dull. Of course she can eavesdrop. And steal open letters . . . anyone can." Mike stared at her with a little panic in his eyes. "Would you?" he asked recklessly. "I will not go to the country to be someone's companion." Rosamund shrugged. "I'd rather die." "I mean...do you read people's letters...etc?" Rosamund said quietly: "If I wanted to know, I would. Everyone would, don't you think?" Her transparent eyes met his. "Just to know," said Rosamund. "Not to do anything about it. I think she's the same. . . . I mean, Miss Gilchrist. But I'm sure she knows." Mike said in a stiff voice: "Rosamon, who do you think killed Cora? And old Richard?" Her transparent eyes met his again. "Honey...don't be so ridiculous...you know as much as I do. But don't bring it up. So let's not."