Chapter 20 Chapter Twenty

Mrs. Angkater was walking briskly up and down the study, running her fingers about things inexplicably.Sir Henry sat back in his chair and watched her.He said: "Why are you holding a pistol, Lucy?" Mrs Angkatell came back and sat gracefully in a chair. "I can't tell, Henry. I think I have a vague notion that it was an accident." "Accident?" "Yes. Those roots, you know," said Mrs. Angkatell vaguely, "so prominent--so easily, tripping a man. A man may have fired many shots at the target, but There was one bullet left in the magazine - unintentionally, of course - but then people get careless too. I keep thinking, you know, the easiest way this accident happened. A Man may be terribly remorseful, of course, and blaming himself..."

Her voice faded away.Her husband sat very still, not taking his eyes off her face.He said again in the same calm, cautious tone: "Who caused—the accident?" Lucy turned her head slightly and looked at him strangely. "John Crystal, of course." "My God, Lucy—" he broke off suddenly. She said eagerly: "Oh, Henry, I've been extremely worried. To Answick." "I see. It's Ainswick. You're always too concerned about Ainswick, Lucy. Sometimes I think that's the only thing you really care about." "Edward and Davy are the last--the last of the Angkatells. And Davy is out of the question, Henry. He'll never marry--with his mother and all that. Edward When he dies he'll get that place and won't marry and we'll be dead long before he's middle-aged. He'll be the last of the Angkatel family and the whole family will be extinct gone."

"Is it important, Lucy?" "Of course it's important!" "You should be a boy, Lucy." But he only smiled a little - because he couldn't imagine that Lucy wasn't a woman. "Everything depends on Edward's marriage - and Edward is so stubborn - he has a shrewd head, like my father. I hoped he would recover from Henrietta and marry someone A pretty girl for a wife—but now I see that it's hopeless. Then I thought Henrietta's romance with John would go on the usual track, and John's affair, I thought, never was Very long. But one night I saw him watching her. He really cared about her. If only John could get out of it, I have a feeling Henrietta would marry Edward. She doesn't The kind of woman who cherishes memories and lives in the past. So, you see, it all comes down to one thing—get rid of John Crystal."

"Lucy. I didn't—what did you do, Lucy?" Mrs Angkatell stood up again.She took two withered flowers from a vase. "Honey," she said, "you didn't think I shot John Crystal, did you. I had such stupid thoughts about the accident. But then, you know Yes, I recall that we invited John Crystal here--not as if he suggested it himself. One cannot invite someone as one's guest and then arrange accidents. Hospitality is exquisite too. So don't worry about it, okay, Henry?" She stood watching him with a big, loving smile.He said solemnly: "I'm always worried about you, Lucy."

"No need, my dear. And you see, everything turned out well. John got rid of it, and we didn't do anything about it. It reminds me," Mrs. Angkatell recalled, "that in the The man in Mumbai, he was very rude to me. Three days later, he was run over by a tram." She opened the French windows and walked into the garden. Sir Henry sat still and watched her tall, slender figure wandering the path, old and weary, his face the face of a man so close to something dreadful. In the garden, Doris Emont, whose face was full of tears, was being extremely depressed by Mr. Gjenn's severe scolding.Mrs. Medway and Miss Simmons played the part of the Greek choir.

"Presenting opinions and jumping to conclusions in a way that only an inexperienced girl would." "Exactly," said Mrs. Medway. "If you saw a pistol in my hand, the most appropriate thing for you to do is to come up to me and say, 'Mr. Gjen, would you be willing to give me an explanation?'" "Or you can come to me," interposed Mrs. Medway. "I'm always happy to tell a young girl what she doesn't know about the world and what she should think about." "You're not supposed to do that," Gjen said sternly, "to one cop—and only one! Never mess with cops you can't control. They're already in the house." It's distressing enough."

"It's indescribable," muttered Miss Simmons. "I've never encountered anything like this before." "We all understand," Gjenne went on, "I wouldn't be surprised what she was like no matter what she did—but the police don't know Madame as well as we do, and it doesn't occur to her that she's being questioned by these stupid questions." troubled with suspicion, just because she's walking around with a light weapon. It's the kind of thing she'd do, but the cop's mind only understands murder and that kind of dirty stuff. Ma'am is the kind of absent-minded one that won't hurt A flying woman, but there's no denying that she always puts things in ridiculous places. I'll never forget," Gjen added affectionately, "she brought home a live lobster, And put it on the card dish in the hall. Think of what I've seen!"

"It must have been before I came," Simmons said curiously. Mrs. Medway cast a glance at Doris, who had erred, and pondered the admonitions. "Other times," she said, "and now, Doris, we're only telling you this for your own good. Being with the police has a bad reputation, don't you forget that. Now you go on Serve, you must be more careful with the beans than you were last night." Doris sniffled. "Yes, Mrs. Medway," she said, walking evasively to the sink. Mrs. Medway said with a premonition: "I don't think I'll be able to make a good snack. Tomorrow's damn trial. Let me divert my mind every time I think about it. One of those things—happens all around us."