'Who knows?' said Randall. 'But don't you worry, my sweet: I shan't have to. This little murder-case isn't going to be solved.'

'But I want it to be solved!' Stella said.

'Possibly,' replied Randall. 'But I don't.'

More he refused to say, but quite firmly turned the subject. Stella left his flat shortly after two o'clock, and drove home, pondering his words. She refrained from telling anyone at the Poplars what her errand to town had been; in fact, when closely interrogated by Miss Matthews in a spirit of rampant curiosity, she said unblushingly that she had lunched with a school-friend. Miss Matthews, sniffing, said that she should have thought Stella might have refrained from gallivanting up to town the very day after her uncle's funeral.

Dinner was enlivened by the presence of Mrs Lupton who, as her husband was detained in town, announced her intention of coming to the Poplars, and arrived at a quarter-to-eight in a dress of rustling black silk, and found fault with every course that was set before her. She had some justification, since Miss Matthews, now that her brother's wrath could no longer descend on her, had embarked on a campaign of the most ruthless economy.

'Let me tell you, Harriet,' said Mrs Lupton, 'that if you think to deceive me by covering things up with a thick sauce you are mistaken. This fish is Cod.'

Mrs Matthews sighed, and remarked in a reminiscent voice: 'I must say, when one remembers how particular dear Gregory was about what he ate -'

'Instead of remembering Gregory's tastes you would be better employed, my dear Zo, in doing your share of the housekeeping,' interrupted Mrs Lupton. 'Harriet never could order a meal.'

By the time Mrs Matthews had regretted that her wretched health prevented her from undertaking such an arduous duty, and Miss Matthews had declared that nothing would induce her to hand the reins over to her sister-in-law, the next course had arrived, a leg of lamb, which Mrs Lupton at once detected to be foreign. The sweet escaped criticism, but some sardines served up on toast as a savoury called forth a severe rebuke. Mrs Lupton after one mouthful, pushed her plate away and said that it was a false economy to buy cheap brands of sardines. Miss Matthews, seeing the savoury declined by the rest of the family, fiercely attacked her own, and said that there was nothing wrong with it at all.

In the drawing-room after dinner the three elder ladies maintained a sort of guerrilla warfare. Guy escaped to the library and Stella went early to bed, wondering whether, if she sold it, her car would realise enough money to enable her to leave the Poplars.

At breakfast next morning Guy was more cheerful than he had been since his uncle's death, and to his sister's relief announced his intention of resuming work on Monday. 'Because it's obvious to me,' he said, 'that nothing more is going to happen. It's just going to fizzle out.'

'I can't make out what the police are doing,' remarked Stella. 'They seem to have stopped haunting the house. You don't suppose they've given it up, do you?'

'I shouldn't be surprised,' said Guy. 'I don't blame them, either.'

'Somehow I don't think we're through with it,' Stella said. 'There's one thing that rather puts the wind up me. Randall knows something.'

'Knows what?' Guy said, looking quickly up from the newspaper.

'He didn't say. But -' She broke off. 'I rather think the police have got their eye on him.'

'How do you know? Who told you?'

'No one. I just do know.' She heard her aunt's step in the hall, and frowned at Guy, who had opened his mouth to question her further. 'Not now! Aunt Harriet's coming.'

Miss Matthews entered the room with a complaint on her lips. Someone had forgotten to open the bathroom window after having a bath, and the room reeked of scent.

'Sorry: my new bath-salts, I expect,' said Stella.

'It is to be hoped you don't marry a poor man,' said Miss Matthews. 'I must say, I should have thought you could have found something better to squander your allowance on than your personal appearance. However, no doubt I am wrong. I'm sure I never expect anyone to listen to what I have to say.'

'Will you have grape-fruit?' said Stella, from the sidetable.

'All I want is a cup of tea, and some toast,' said Miss Matthews. 'I am not feeling at all well this morning, which is not surprising when one thinks of what I have been through. And Guy home for lunch every day, too! Not that I grudge it, but it all makes more work. And why your Aunt Gertrude should elect to come here to dinner simply to make a lot of unkind remarks about my catering -'

'It's probably that sardine which is making you feel queasy now,' said Guy.

Miss Matthews was so incensed by this malicious suggestion that she could only glare at him; and by way of demonstrating that the sardine had in no way upset her digestion she got up, and in awful silence helped herself to a slice of bacon, and resolutely ate it.

This apparently was ill judged, for when Stella went upstairs half-an-hour later she found her mother, swathed in a lilac-coloured wrapper, coming out of Miss Matthews' room with an empty medicine-gla.s.s in her hand, and an expression on her face of pious resignation.

'Hullo!' said Stella. 'Aunt Harriet worse?'

Mrs Matthews, who regarded the right to be ill as her sole prerogative, said: 'I don't know what you mean by worse, darling. There's nothing whatever the matter with her beyond a slight bilious attack.'

'She said she felt seedy at breakfast. Guy suggested that the sardine she ate last night might be disagreeing. Not well-received. Have you given her some dope?'

'Some of that wonderful medicine Dr Martin prescribed for me,' said Mrs Matthews. 'Not that I think it necessary. But poor Harriet was always one to make a fuss over the slightest ailment. I sometimes wonder what she would do if she had as much ill-health to bear as I have. I've put her to bed with a hot-water bottle, but I could wish that she had chosen some other day to be ill on. The strain of this past week has been too much for my nerves, and I'm feeling far from well myself. I'm afraid, darling, that you will have to do the shopping. I really don't feel up to it.'

'All right,' said Stella obligingly. 'Shall I go and talk to Mrs Beecher?'

'Yes, dearest, do. And, Stella! Tell her to cook a very light lunch. Soles, perhaps, with a souffle to follow.'

Stella grinned. 'I bet Aunt Harriet was going to condemn us to cold mutton.'

'Yes, dear, but if she is feeling seedy it is much wiser for her to keep off meat,' said Mrs Matthews, with an air of the purest altruism.

'Of course,' agreed Stella solemnly. 'Shall I take that gla.s.s down with me?'

'No, this is my own gla.s.s, and I always prefer to wash it myself. Tell Mrs Beecher that your aunt is lying down, and is not to be disturbed, and ask her to order a chicken for dinner. Something really digestible.'

'I should think Aunt Harriet'll pa.s.s out when she sees it,' commented Stella.

Mrs Beecher received her in the kitchen with an indulgent smile, tut-tutted when she heard of her mistress's indisposition, and said that she was not surprised. 'That joint we had last night was downright wicked,' she said. 'And as for the fish, well, I was ashamed to send it to table! Enough to make the Master turn in his grave, was what I said to Beecher. And so you're going to do the ordering today, are you, miss? Well, it'll be good practice against the time when you have your own house, won't it?'

Stella, who recognised in this sally an attempt to find out whether she was going to marry Dr Fielding or not, merely smiled and agreed, and firmly turned the conversation on to Poultry. She sallied forth presently in her car to do the marketing, and returned shortly before noon to find her mother just coming downstairs from her room. 'How's the invalid?' Stella inquired.

'Asleep,' Mrs Matthews replied. 'I peeped in a moment ago, but she was sound, so I didn't disturb her.'

Miss Matthews did not come down to luncheon, so Mrs Matthews, who with the pa.s.sing of every hour her sister-in-law had spent in bed had become more martyrlike, sighed, and told Stella to run up and ask her aunt if she was going to get up, or if she would like a tray sent to her room. 'I must say, I do think it's just a little inconsiderate of Harriet to elect to be ill at a moment when she must know that it's all I can do to keep going without having all her work thrust on to my shoulders,' she said.

Stella, who knew the processes of her mother's mind too well to waste her breath in pointing out that it was she, and not Mrs Matthews, who had performed Harriet's duties that morning, merely winked at Guy, and went off to visit her aunt.

There was no answer to her gentle tap on the door, so after waiting for a moment Stella softly turned the handle, and went in.

The curtains had been drawn across the windows to shut out the light, and the room was dim. Miss Matthews was lying on her side with her eyes closed, and did not stir. Stella went to the bedside, wondering whether to wake her or not. It struck her all at once that Miss Matthews looked very ill; she bent over her, laying her hand cautiously on the slack one that rested on the sheet.

It was not hot with fever, but on the contrary oddly chilly. Stella recoiled with a sobbing gasp of fright and shock. With her eyes fixed on her aunt's motionless form she backed to the door, her knees shaking under her, and pulled it open, and called: 'Mother! Guy! Oh, come here, quickly! Quickly!'

Terror vibrated in her voice; it brought Guy up the stairs two at a time. 'What's up?' he demanded. 'Good G.o.d, what's the matter?'

'Aunt Harriet!' Stella managed to say. 'Aunt Harriet... !'

He stared at her white face for an instant, and then thrust past her into Miss Matthews' room.

Stella tried to pull herself together, but she could not bring herself to go farther into the room than the doorway, where she stayed, leaning against the wall, her handkerchief pressed to her mouth. She saw Guy put his hand on Miss Matthews' shoulder, and shake it, and heard him say in a voice sharp with alarm: 'Aunt Harriet, wake up! Aunt Harriet!'

'Oh don't!' Stella whispered. 'Can't you see?'

He strode to the window, and wrenched the curtains back, with a clatter of rings along the bra.s.s rod. Across the room his eyes met Stella's. 'Stella...' he said. 'Stella... What are we going to do?'

She looked back at him, her own eyes widening as she read the thought in his. Then, before either of them could speak, Mrs Matthews came into the room. 'Well, Harriet, how are you feeling?' she said. 'My dear child, what in the world is the matter?'

Stella said baldly: 'Mother, Aunt Harriet is dead.'

'Dead?' repeated Mrs Matthews. 'Nonsense! You don't know what you're talking about! Let me pa.s.s at once! Really, your love of the dramatic-' She broke off, feeling Miss Matthews' hand as Stella had done. Her make-up was too perfect to allow of her changing colour, but her children saw her stiffen. One swift glance she shot at them, then she said in a carefully controlled voice: 'Your aunt must have had a stroke. We must send for a doctor. Guy, go at once and ring up Dr Fielding. Now please don't stand there in that silly way, Stella dear! Of course it's only a stroke!'

'She's dead,' Stella repeated. 'Like uncle. You know she's dead.'

Mrs Matthews went to her, and took her hand. 'Darling, you've had a shock, and you're a little overwrought. You mustn't say things like that. Now, the best thing you can do is to go to your own room, and lie down for a bit. You can't do anything for your aunt till Dr -'

'No one can. Oh, why didn't you send for Deryk when she said she felt ill? Why didn't you, mother?'

'My dear little Stella, there was no question of sending for a doctor. You must try and pull yourself together, my pet. No one could have foreseen this. It was nothing but a slight stomach-upset; in fact, your aunt said herself that all she wanted was to lie down and keep quiet for a while. Now I am going to give you a little sal volatile to pull you round, and then you shall go to your own room till you are more yourself.'

Stella allowed herself to be led away to her mother's room, and she obediently swallowed the dose poured out for her, but she would not go to her own room. She sat down in a chair on the landing, and gritted her chattering teeth together.

Dr Fielding had come home to lunch, and within five minutes he was at the Poplars, following Guy upstairs to Miss Matthews' room. Mrs Matthews was standing at the foot of the bed, and greeted him with composure, but in a hushed voice. 'I think my sister-in-law must have had a stroke, doctor. I haven't tried to do anything for her, as I thought it would be wiser to wait until you came. I have thought for some little while that she wasn't quite herself, but of course I never dreamed of anything like this happening. Poor Harriet! I'm afraid my brother-in-law's death was -'

Dr Fielding straightened himself. 'Mrs Matthews, your sister-in-law is dead,' he said harshly. 'She has been dead for as much as two hours, I should say. Why was I not called in before?'

'Dead!' Mrs Matthews repeated, and bowed her head slightly, covering her eyes with one hand.

Guy said: 'We'd no idea! How could we have had? She said she felt seedy. We thought she'd eaten something that had disagreed with her. I tell you, there didn't seem to be anything the matter with her, did there, mother?'

'Nothing,' Mrs Matthews said in a low voice. 'A trifle bilious. I gave her some of my own medicine, and put her to bed. She just wanted to be quiet.'

'What did she complain of?' Fielding asked.

'Nothing that could lead one to suppose-'She said she lilt giddy, and that her head ached.'

'Any sickness?'

'She had a slight feeling of sickness, which was why I gave her my medicine. It is an excellent prescription -'

'Did she complain of any sensation of cramp? Any shivering in the extremities, or creeping in the arms? Did she seem to you to have difficulty in breathing?'

Mrs Matthews shook her head. 'Oh, no, no! If there had been anything like that I should have sent for you at once! She seemed better after taking the medicine. She was drowsy, and I tucked her up, and left her to have a sleep. I am such a firm believer in the healing qualities of -'

'Fielding, what did she die of?' Guy demanded.

The doctor looked from one to the other of them, his own face set into hard lines. 'It is impossible for me to answer that question without performing a post-mortem examination.'

Mrs Matthews laid her hands on the bed-rail, and grasped it nervously. 'Surely that cannot be necessary!' she said. 'It is so obvious to me that she must have had a stroke! The shock of her brother's death -'

'It is not obvious to me, Mrs Matthews. I am sorry, but I cannot undertake to sign a certificate. This is a case for the Coroner.'

'Oh, my G.o.d!' groaned Guy.

Mrs Matthews said in a shaking voice: 'It's absurd! My sister-in-law has been through a great deal, and she was not a young woman. Moreover, I myself have noticed signs of failing health in her for some time past.'

'Look here, you've got to tell us!' said Guy, taking a step towards the doctor. 'What do you suspect?'

Fielding met his angry stare with cold severity. 'I suspect that Miss Matthews has been poisoned,' he replied.

'It's a d.a.m.ned lie!' said Guy.

'Hush, Guy!' Mrs Matthews said mechanically. 'It is ridiculous, of course, quite ridiculous. Who could have wanted to poison poor Harriet? If it were not so terrible it would be almost laughable! But to subject us all to the horror of another inquest-really, doctor, don't you think you are letting yourself -'

'Mrs Matthews, I must decline to discuss it with you. I was not attending your sister-in-law at the time of her death; I was not called in when she was first taken ill. I could not reconcile it with my conscience to sign a certificate under such circ.u.mstances. Now, if you will please go downstairs, both of you, I will lock this room up until the police come to take charge.'

'You cannot have thought what this will mean to us,' Mrs Matthews said. 'The scandal-so unnecessary, so dreadful for everybody concerned! You can't seriously think that anyone would dream of poisoning Harriet! Good heavens, what possible object could anybody have for doing such a thing?'

The doctor shrugged. 'That is not a question for me, Mrs Matthews. I can only tell you that I am very far from satisfied that Miss Matthews died a natural death.'

Guy took his mother's arm. 'Come downstairs, mother. It's no use arguing. If he's not satisfied, it's got to go to the police,' he said.

She let him lead her out of the room, and down the stairs; the doctor locked the door on the outside, and withdrew the key, and would have followed Mrs Matthews at once had not Stella got up from the chair on the landing where all the time she had been sitting. She said: 'Deryk, for G.o.d's sake tell me! You don't really think that? I didn't come in, but I heard all you said. She can't have been poisoned!'

'I'm sorry,' he answered in his professional voice. 'But I can't help it, you know.'

'If it hadn't been for, uncle's death you'd never have suspected poison!' Stella said.

'The cases are not the same,' he replied. 'Your uncle was already suffering from heart-trouble. Miss Matthews, when last I was called in to attend her, had nothing wrong with her heart or her blood-pressure. If your uncle were alive today I should still consider Miss Matthews' death extraordinary.'

'But, Deryk, Aunt Harriet! Who could want to kill her? Deryk, are you sure you aren't making a mistake?'

'Stella, I've told you I'm very sorry, but I can't help you. The matter must be reported to the Coroner immediately. My duty is perfectly clear.'

'But what are we going to do?' Stella said, wringing her hands together.

He said uncomfortably: 'No one will think you had anything to do with it. Look here, I've got to go and report this. Try not to worry!' He added again: 'I'm awfully sorry!' and hurried away downstairs.

Mrs Matthews had gone into the library, and was sitting on the sofa there, one hand fidgeting nervously with the pleats of her frock, the other gripping her handkerchief. Guy had gone over to the window, and was looking out. He heard Dr Fielding speak to Beecher in the hall, and then pick up the telephone-receiver, and he stole a glance at his mother. She did not seem to be attending; her mouth was folded tightly, her eyes were fixed on the opposite wall.

The doctor went away, and presently Beecher came in, looking pale and shocked. In a low voice, and keeping his eyes downcast, he wanted to know whether Mrs Matthews desired her lunch.

She did not move or answer. Guy said: 'Mother!'

She was recalled to her surroundings with a slight start, and looked blankly from Guy to the butler. 'Lunch?' she repeated. 'Oh! No, I don't think I could swallow anything. You and Stella go, dear.'

'I don't want any either,' said Guy. 'And I don't suppose Stella does.'

The butler bowed, and withdrew again. Mrs Matthews dabbed at the corners of her eyes. 'I don't seem able to realise it,' she said. 'Harriet gone! I shall miss her terribly.'

Guy turned a shade paler, and said: 'For G.o.d's sake, mother, don't!'

'Of course, I know she was often very, very tiresome,' Mrs Matthews continued, 'but one gets used to people, somehow. I can't imagine this house without her. I feel dreadfully upset.'