Chapter 17 Chapter Seventeen: A Conversation with Lady Rivington

"Suppose," said Bobby, stopping on the threshold, "that Mr. M. R. Rivington, of Onslow Square, is a lawyer himself? That would be a blow to the head." "You'd better try the colonel in Tate Street first," said Frankie. "He doesn't know anything about lawyers." So Bobby took a taxi to Tate Street.The colonel is not at home, but his wife is.Bobby handed a business card to the well-behaved maid, on which he wrote: "This is Sprague and Jenkinson. I have an urgent matter." The business card and the Earl of Marchington's attire had an effect on the maid.She had no doubt that Bobby would come to sell small appliances or solicit insurance business.He was ushered into a richly furnished drawing room, and in a moment Lady Rivington, equally richly dressed and made up, entered.

"I must apologize for disturbing you, Mrs. Rivington," said Bobby, "but the matter is quite urgent, and we wish to avoid delays in our correspondence." The obvious impossibility of the lawyer's wish to avoid delay bobby wondered for a moment whether Mrs. Rivington saw through the pretense. Mrs. Rivington, however, grasped the problem before her with far more clarity than head. "Oh! Sit down, please!" she said. "I just got a call from your office saying you're on your way here." Bobby admired Frankie's talent at this last moment. He sat down and tried to appear proper.

"It concerns our client, Alan Carstairs," he said. "Really?" "He may have mentioned that we were acting for him." "He mentions it now? I believe he did," said Mrs. Rivington, with her wide blue eyes, obviously the type to remind. "Of course I know about you. You represented Dolly Moultref when she shot that nasty seamstress, didn't you? You know all the details, I suppose?" She watched Bobby with obvious curiosity.Bobby thought Mrs. Rivington would be an easy fool. "We know a lot of situations that never go to court," he said with a smile.

"Oh, I guess you know," said Mrs. Rivington, looking at him enviously. "Tell me, is she really... I mean, she's dressed just like that woman said?" "This plot was denied in court." Bobby lowered his eyes slightly with a serious face. "Oh, I see." Mrs. Rivington breathed a cheery breath. "About Mr. Carstairs," said Bobby, feeling that he was now on friendly terms and ready to get down to business, "his departure from England was very sudden, perhaps you know?" Lady Rivington shook her head. "He left England? I don't know. We haven't seen him for a while."

"He told you how long he intended to stay here?" "He said he might stay here for a week or two, maybe six months or a year." "Where does he live?" "Savoy." "When was the last time you saw him?" "Well, about three weeks or a month ago. I don't remember exactly." "You took him to Staveley one day?" "Of course! I believe that was the last time we saw him. He called to ask when he could come and see us. He had just arrived in London. Hubert was in a great embarrassment because we were going to Scotland next day. We were going to go to Staveley again that day, and go out to lunch with some nasty people we couldn't get rid of, and he wanted to see Carstairs, because he liked Carstairs so much. So I said:' Let's take him to the Bassington-Frenches, my dear. They won't mind.' So we went. Of course, they didn't mind."

She held her breath for a moment. "Did he tell you why he's staying in England?" asked Bobby. "No. Did he have any cause? Oh, yes, I see. We think it has something to do with his millionaire friend who died a terrible death. The doctor told him he had cancer and he Just killed myself. It's too evil for a doctor to say that, don't you think so? Doctors get it wrong all the time. Our family doctor said a few days ago that my little girl had measles, which turned out to be a heat rash. I told Hugh Burt said he should be replaced." Bobby disregarded Mrs. Rivington's assertion that the doctor's diagnosis and treatment seemed to be omnipotent, and turned the conversation to the point.

"Does Carstairs know the Bassington-French family?" "Oh, no! But I think he likes them. Though on the way back he looked queer and sullen. I guess some of the things said must have upset him. He's Canadian, you know, and I often think Canadians are too sensitive." "Don't you know what upset him?" "I don't know a thing. Sometimes it's the silliest things that do it, don't they?" "Is he walking around?" "Oh no. What an odd idea!" She stared at Bobby. Bobby tried again. "Was there a party that day? Did he run into any neighbors?"

"No, it's just our family and theirs. But it's strange, you heard..." "Yes," said Bobby quickly, when she stopped. "Because he asked a lot of scary questions about a guy who lived near there." "Do you remember that person's name?" "No, can't remember. It wasn't everybody's interest, a doctor or something." "Dr. Nicholson?" "I think it's the name. Carstairs wants to know all about the doctor and his wife, and when they've been there, and stuff like that. It's odd that he didn't know them then, and he Not usually a very curious man. But, of course, maybe he just wants to talk and can't think of anything to say, and sometimes a man behaves like that."

Bobby agreed that this was often the case, and asked how the Nicholsons had become such a topic, but Mrs. Rivington could not tell.She had gone out into the garden with Henry Bassington-French, and found the others talking of the Nicholsons when she returned. The conversation was going very well at this point, and Mrs Rivington, who Bobby was asking without any pretense, was suddenly curious. "But what do you want to know about Carstairs?" she asked. "I really need his address," Bobby explained. "We're acting for him, as you know, and we just got a pretty important telegram from New York. You know, in dollars just There's been a serious fluctuation..." Mrs. Rivington nodded very intelligently.

"So," Bobby went on quickly, "we wanted to get in touch with him and get his instructions. He didn't leave an address, and I thought you might know about him when he mentioned he was a friend of yours. information." "Oh, I see," said Mrs. Rivington with great satisfaction. "What a pity! I see he's been erratic." "Oh, that's true. Well," said Bobby, rising, "I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time." "Well, that's all right," said Mrs. Rivington. "It's very interesting to know that Dolly Moltref did exactly what you say..."

"I didn't say anything at all," said Bobby. "Yes, but lawyers are cautious, aren't they?" Mrs. Rivington chuckled. "Well," thought Bobby, as he walked down Tate Street, "I seem to have wiped out Dolly Molt or something for good, but I bet she was worth it. That charming silly woman forever I don't understand why I'm here. Actually, I need Carstairs' address, and I can't just make a phone call and ask?" Back on Brook Street, he and Frankie analyzed the situation from every angle. "It really does seem as though chance had brought him to the Bassington-French's," said Frankie thoughtfully. "I know. But apparently, when he got there, some unexpected conversation turned his attention to the Nicholsons." "So, really, it's Nicholson who belongs to the core of the mystery, and not the Bassington-French family?" Bobby looked at Frankie and asked sharply, "Are you still going to get rid of your hero?" "My dear, I was only pointing out what it was like. It was the mention of Nicholson and his rehab that excited Carstairs. He was taken to the Bassington-French home. It was a fluke. You have to admit it." "It seems so." "Why just 'seem'?" "Well, there's another possibility. Somehow, Carstairs has learned that the Rivingtons are going to lunch at the Bassington-French's. He may have stumbled across a restaurant in the Savoy." Overheard some unexpected conversation, maybe so. So he called them up and begged to see them, and he hoped the possibility would come true. They did make an appointment, and they proposed that he go with them, Said their friends of the family wouldn't mind it, and they wanted to see him badly. It's possible, Frankie." "I think it's possible. But it's a very roundabout way of doing things." "Like your car accident, it's not a beat around the bush," said Bobby. "My car accident was an act of bold directness," snapped Frankie. Bobby took off Lord Marchington's clothes, put them back where he had found them, and put on the chauffeur's uniform again.After a while, they drove towards Steverly. "If Roger is in love with me," said Frankie solemnly, "he'll be glad I'm back so soon. He'll think I can't bear to be away from him for a long time." "I don't believe you can stand it, either," said Bobby. "I've often heard that really dangerous criminals are particularly attractive." "Anyway, I can't believe he's a criminal." "You've said that before." "Come on, I feel like that." "You can't avoid the photograph thing." "Damn pictures!" Frankie cursed. Bobby silently steered the car into the driveway.Frankie jumped out and went into the house without looking back.Bobby drove the car away. The room seemed very still, and Frankie glanced at the clock. It was exactly half-past two. "They didn't expect me to be back in a few hours," she thought. "Strange, where are they?" She pushed open the study door and walked in, and suddenly stopped at the door. Dr. Nicholson was sitting on the sofa, holding Sylvia's hand in both hands. Sylvia jumped up and walked across the room towards Frankie. "He already told me," she said. Her voice was suppressed, and she covered her face with her hands so as not to be seen. "It's terrible," she sobbed, and rushed out of the room, past Frankie. Dr. Nicholson was already on his feet.Frankie took a step or two toward him. The doctor looked directly at Frankie with his usual watchful eyes. "Poor woman," he said kindly, "this is a great shock to her." The muscles at the corners of his mouth twitched.For a long time Frankie thought he was joking.Later, she suddenly understood that it was a completely different expression. This person is angry.He's holding himself back, hiding his anger under a mask of amiability, but the look of anger is on display. All he could do was hold back his emotions. There was silence for a while. "Mrs. Bassington-French should know the truth, and it would be best," said the doctor. "I hope she will persuade her husband to leave her husband in my care." "I'm afraid," said Frankie softly, "that I have interrupted your conversation." She paused for a while and then said, "I came back a little earlier than scheduled."