Death at the Excelsior and Other Stories Read online

  THE BEST SAUCE

  Eve Hendrie sat up in bed. For two hours she had been trying to get tosleep, but without success. Never in her life had she felt morewakeful.

  There were two reasons for this. Her mind was disturbed, and she wasvery hungry. Neither sensation was novel to her. Since first she hadbecome paid companion to Mrs. Rastall-Retford there had hardly been amoment when she had not been hungry. Some time before Mrs.Rastall-Retford's doctor had recommended to that lady a Spartan diet,and in this Eve, as companion, had unwillingly to share. It was notpleasant for either of them, but at least Mrs. Rastall-Retford had theknowledge that she had earned it by years of honest self-indulgence.Eve had not that consolation.

  Meagre fare, moreover, had the effect of accentuating Mrs.Rastall-Retford's always rather pronounced irritability. She was amassive lady, with a prominent forehead, some half-dozen chins, and amanner towards those in her employment which would have been resentedin a second mate by the crew of a Western ocean tramp. Even at her bestshe was no ray of sunshine about the house. And since the beginning ofthe self-denying ordinance she had been at her worst.

  But it was not depression induced by her employer that was disturbingEve. That was a permanent evil. What was agitating her so extremelyto-night was the unexpected arrival of Peter Rayner.

  It was Eve's practice to tell herself several times a day that she hadno sentiment for Peter Rayner but dislike. She did not attempt todefend her attitude logically, but nevertheless she clung to it, andto-night, when he entered the drawing-room, she had endeavoured toconvey by her manner that it was only with the greatest difficulty thatshe remembered him at all, and that, having accomplished that feat, shenow intended to forget him again immediately. And he had grinned acheerful, affectionate grin, and beamed on her without a break tillbedtime.

  Before coming as companion to Mrs. Rastall-Retford Eve had beengoverness to Hildebrand, aged six, the son of a Mrs. Elphinstone. Ithad been, on the whole, a comfortable situation. She had not liked Mrs.Elphinstone, but Hildebrand had been docile, and altogether life wasquite smooth and pleasant until Mrs. Elphinstone's brother came for avisit. Peter Rayner was that brother.

  There is a type of man who makes love with the secrecy and sheepishreserve of a cowboy shooting up a Wild West saloon. To this class Peterbelonged. He fell in love with Eve at sight, and if, at the end of thefirst day, there was anyone in the house who was not aware of it, itwas only Hildebrand, aged six. And even Hildebrand must have had hissuspicions.

  Mrs. Elphinstone was among the first to become aware of it. For twodays, frostily silent and gimlet-like as to the eye, she observedPeter's hurricane wooing from afar; then she acted. Peter she sent toLondon, pacifying him with an invitation to return to the house in thefollowing week. This done, she proceeded to eliminate Eve. In thecourse of the parting interview she expressed herself perhaps a littleless guardedly than was either just or considerate; and Eve, flushedand at war with the whole race of Rayners, departed that afternoon toseek a situation elsewhere. She had found it at the house of Mrs.Rastall-Retford.

  And now this evening, as she sat in the drawing-room playing the pianoto her employer, in had walked the latter's son, a tall, nervous youngman, perpetually clearing his throat and fiddling with a pair ofgold-rimmed glasses, with the announcement that he had brought hisfriend, Mr. Rayner, to spend a few days in the old home.

  Eve could still see the look on Peter's face as, having shaken handswith his hostess, he turned to her. It was the look of the cowboy who,his weary ride over, sees through the dusk the friendly gleam of thesaloon windows, and with a happy sigh reaches for his revolver. Therecould be no two meanings to that look. It said, as clearly as if he hadshouted it, that this was no accidental meeting; that he had trackedher down and proposed to resume matters at the point where they hadleft off.

  Eve was indignant. It was abominable that he should pursue her in thisway. She sat thinking how abominable it was for five minutes; and thenit suddenly struck her that she was hungrier than ever. She hadforgotten her material troubles for the moment. It seemed to her nowthat she was quite faint with hunger.

  A cuckoo clock outside the door struck one. And, as it did so, it cameto Eve that on the sideboard in the dining-room there were biscuits.

  A moment later she was creeping softly down the stairs.

  * * * * *

  It was dark and ghostly on the stairs. The house was full of noises.She was glad when she reached the dining-room. It would be pleasant toswitch on the light. She pushed open the door, and uttered a cry. Thelight was already switched on, and at the table, his back to her, was aman.

  There was no time for flight. He must have heard the door open. Inanother moment he would turn and spring.

  She spoke tremulously.

  "Don't--don't move. I'm pointing a pistol at you."

  The man did not move.

  "Foolish child!" he said, indulgently. "Suppose it went off!"

  She uttered an exclamation of surprise.

  "You! What are you doing here, Mr. Rayner?"

  She moved into the room, and her relief changed swiftly intoindignation. On the table were half a chicken, a loaf, some coldpotatoes, and a bottle of beer.

  "I'm eating, thank goodness!" said Peter, helping himself to a coldpotato. "I had begun to think I never should again."

  "Eating!"

  "Eating. I know a man of sensibility and refinement ought to shrinkfrom raiding his hostess's larder in the small hours, but hunger'sdeath to the finer feelings. It's the solar plexus punch which putsone's better self down and out for the count of ten. I am a large andhealthy young man, and, believe me, I need this little snack. I need itbadly. May I cut you a slice of chicken?"

  She could hardly bear to look at it, but pride gave her strength.

  "No," she snapped.

  "You're sure? Poor little thing; I know you're half starved."

  Eve stamped.

  "How dare you speak to me like that, Mr. Rayner?"

  He drank bottled beer thoughtfully.

  "What made you come down? I suppose you heard a noise and thought itwas burglars?" he said.

  "Yes," said Eve, thankfully accepting the idea. At all costs she mustconceal the biscuit motive.

  "That was very plucky of you. Won't you sit down?"

  "No, I'm going back to bed."

  "Not just yet. I've several things to talk to you about. Sit down.That's right. Now cover up your poor little pink ankles, or you'll becatching----"

  She started up.

  "Mr. Rayner!"

  "Sit down."

  She looked at him defiantly, then, wondering at herself for doing it,sat down.

  "Now," said Peter, "what do you mean by it? What do you mean by dashingoff from my sister's house without leaving a word for me as to whereyou were going? You knew I loved you."

  "Good night, Mr. Rayner."

  "Sit down. You've given me a great deal of trouble. Do you know it costme a sovereign in tips to find out your address? I couldn't get it outof my sister, and I had to apply to the butler. I've a good mind toknock it off your first week's pin-money."

  "I shall not stay here listening----"

  "You knew perfectly well I wanted to marry you. But you fly off withouta word and bury yourself in this benighted place with a gorgon who nagsand bullies you----"

  "A nice way to speak of your hostess," said Eve, scornfully.

  "A very soothing way. I don't think I ever took such a dislike to awoman at first sight before. And when she started to bullyrag you, itwas all I could do--But it won't last long now. You must come away atonce. We'll be married after Christmas, and in the meantime you can goand live with my sister----"

  Eve listened speechlessly. She had so much to say that the difficultyof selection rendered her dumb.

  "When can you start? I mean, do you have to give a month's notice oranything?"

  Eve got up with a short laugh.

  "Good night, Mr. Rayner," she
said. "You have been very amusing, but Iam getting tired."

  "I'm glad it's all settled," said Peter. "Good night."

  Eve stopped. She could not go tamely away without saying a single oneof the things that crowded in her mind.

  "Do you imagine," she said, "that I intend to marry you? Do yousuppose, for one moment----"

  "Rather!" said Peter. "You shall have a splendid time from now on, tomake up for all you've gone through. I'm going to be awfully good toyou, Eve. You sha'n't ever have any more worries, poor old thing." Helooked at her affectionately. "I wonder why it is that large men alwaysfall in love with little women. There are you, a fragile, fairy-like,ethereal wisp of a little creature; and here am I----"

  "A great, big, greedy pig!" burst out Eve, "who thinks about nothingbut eating and drinking."

  "I wasn't going to have put it quite like that," said Peter,thoughtfully.

  "I hate a greedy man," said Eve, between her teeth.

  "I have a healthy appetite," protested Peter. "Nothing more. It runs inthe family. At the time of the Civil War the Rayner of the period, whowas King Charles's right-hand man, would frequently eat despatches toprevent them falling into the hands of the enemy. He was noted for it."

  Eve reached the door and turned.

  "I despise you," she said.

  "Good night," said Peter, tenderly. "To-morrow morning we'll go for awalk."

  His prediction proved absolutely correct. He was smoking a cigaretteafter breakfast when Eve came to him. Her face was pink and mutinous,but there was a gleam in her eye.

  "Are you ready to come out, Mr. Rayner?" she said. "Mrs.Rastall-Retford says I'm to take you to see the view from the golflinks."

  "You'll like that," said Peter.

  "I shall not like it," snapped Eve. "But Mrs. Rastall-Retford is payingme a salary to do what she tells me, and I have to earn it."

  Conversation during the walk consisted mainly of a monologue on thepart of Peter. It was a crisp and exhilarating morning, and he appearedto be feeling a universal benevolence towards all created things. Heeven softened slightly on the subject of Mrs. Rastall-Retford, andadvanced the theory that her peculiar manner might be due to her havingbeen ill-treated as a child.

  Eve listened in silence. It was not till they were nearing home ontheir return journey that she spoke.

  "Mr. Rayner," she said.

  "Yes?" said Peter.

  "I was talking to Mrs. Rastall-Retford after breakfast," said Eve, "andI told her something about you."

  "My conscience is clear."

  "Oh, nothing bad. Some people would say it was very much to yourcredit." She looked away across the fields. "I told her you were avegetarian," she added, carelessly.

  There was a long silence. Then Peter spoke three words, straight fromthe heart.

  "You little devil!"

  Eve turned and looked at him, her eyes sparkling wickedly.

  "You see!" she said. "Now perhaps you will go."

  "Without you?" said Peter, stoutly. "Never!"

  "In London you will be able to eat all day--anything you like. You willbe able to creep about your club gnawing cold chicken all night. But ifyou stay here----"

  "You have got a wrong idea of the London clubman's life," said Peter."If I crept about my club gnawing cold chicken I should have thecommittee after me. No, I shall stay here and look after you. Afterall, what is food?"

  "I'll tell you what yours will be, if you like. Or would you ratherwait and let it be a surprise? Well, for lunch you will have someboiled potatoes and cabbage and a sweet--a sort of light _souffle_thing. And for dinner----"

  "Yes, but one moment," said Peter. "If I'm a vegetarian, how did youaccount for my taking all the chicken I could get at dinner last night,and looking as if I wanted more?"

  "Oh, that was your considerateness. You didn't want to give trouble,even if you had to sacrifice your principles. But it's all right now.You are going to have your vegetables."

  Peter drew a deep breath--the breath of the man who braces himself upand thanks whatever gods there be for his unconquerable soul.

  "I don't care," he said. "'A book of verses underneath the bough, a jugof wine, and thou----'"

  "Oh, and I forgot," interrupted Eve. "I told her you were a teetotalleras well."

  There was another silence, longer than the first.

  "The best train," said Eve, at last, "is the ten-fifty."

  He looked at her inquiringly.

  "The best train?"

  "For London."

  "What makes you think that I am interested in trains to London?"

  Eve bit her lip.

  "Mr. Rayner," she said, after a pause, "do you remember at lunch oneday at Mrs. Elphinstone's refusing parsnips? You said that, so far asyou were concerned, parsnips were first by a mile, and that prussicacid and strychnine also ran."

  "Well?" said Peter.

  "Oh, nothing," said Eve. "Only I made a stupid mistake. I told the cookyou were devoted to parsnips. I'm sorry."

  Peter looked at her gravely. "I'm putting up with a lot for your sake,"he said.

  "You needn't. Why don't you go away?"

  "And leave you chained to the rock, Andromeda? Not for Perseus! I'veonly been here one night, but I've seen enough to know that I've got totake you away from this place. Honestly, it's killing you. I waswatching you last night. You're scared if that infernal old womanstarts to open her mouth. She's crushing the life out of you. I'm goingto stay on here till you say you'll marry me, or till they throw meout."

  "There are parsnips for dinner to-night," said Eve, softly.

  "I shall get to like them. They are an acquired taste, I expect.Perhaps I am, too. Perhaps I am the human parsnip, and you will have tolearn to love me."

  "You are the human burr," said Eve, shortly. "I shouldn't have thoughtit possible for a man to behave as you are doing."

  * * * * *

  In spite of herself, there were moments during the next few days whenEve felt twinges of remorse. It was only by telling herself that he hadno right to have followed her to this house, and that he was at perfectliberty to leave whenever he wished, that she could harden her heartagain. And even this reflection was not entirely satisfactory, for itmade her feel how fond he must be of her to endure these evils for hersake.

  And there was no doubt about there being evils. It was a dreary housein which to spend winter days. There were no books that one couldpossibly read. The nearest railway station was five miles away. Therewas not even a dog to talk to. Generally it rained. Though Eve sawlittle of Peter, except at meals and in the drawing-room afterdinner--for Mrs. Rastall-Retford spent most of the day in her ownsitting-room and required Eve to be at her side--she could picture hissufferings, and, try as she would, she could not keep herself fromsoftening a little. Her pride was weakening. Constant attendance on heremployer was beginning to have a bad effect on her nerves. Associationin a subordinate capacity with Mrs. Rastall-Retford did not encourage aproud and spirited outlook on life.

  Her imagination had not exaggerated Peter's sufferings. Many peopleconsider that Dante has spoken the last word on the post-mortem housingof the criminal classes. Peter, after the first week of his visit,could have given him a few new ideas.

  * * * * *

  It is unpleasant to be half starved. It is unpleasant to be cooped upin a country-house in winter with nothing to do. It is unpleasant tohave to sit at meals and listen to the only girl you have ever reallyloved being bullyragged by an old lady with six chins. And all theseunpleasantnesses were occurring to Peter simultaneously. It is highlycreditable to him that the last should completely have outweighed theothers.

  He was generally alone. Mr. Rastall-Retford, who would have been betterthan nothing as a companion, was a man who enjoyed solitude. He was aconfirmed vanisher. He would be present at one moment, the next hewould have glided silently away. And, even on the rare occasions whenhe decided not to vanish, he seldom did muc
h more than clear his throatnervously and juggle with his pince-nez.

  Peter, in his boyhood, had been thrilled once by a narrative of a manwho got stuck in the Sargasso Sea. It seemed to him now that themonotony of the Sargasso Sea had been greatly exaggerated.

  Nemesis was certainly giving Peter his due. He had wormed his way intothe Rastall-Retford home-circle by grossly deceitful means. The momenthe heard that Eve had gone to live with Mrs. Rastall-Retford, and hadascertained that the Rastall-Retford with whom he had been at Cambridgeand whom he still met occasionally at his club when he did not see himfirst, was this lady's son, he had set himself to court young Mr.Rastall-Retford. He had cornered him at the club and begun to talkabout the dear old 'Varsity days, ignoring the embarrassment of thelatter, whose only clear recollection of the dear old 'Varsity days aslinking Peter and himself was of a certain bump-supper night, whensundry of the festive, led and inspired by Peter, had completelywrecked his rooms and shaved off half a growing moustache. He conveyedto young Mr. Rastall-Retford the impression that, in the dear old'Varsity days, they had shared each other's joys and sorrows, and,generally, had made Damon and Pythias look like a pair of cross-talkknockabouts at one of the rowdier music-halls. Not to invite so old afriend to stay at his home, if he ever happened to be down that way,would, he hinted, be grossly churlish. Mr. Rastall-Retford, impressed,issued the invitation. And now Peter was being punished for his deceit.Nemesis may not be an Alfred Shrubb, but give her time and she getsthere.

  * * * * *

  It was towards the middle of the second week of his visit that Eve,coming into the drawing-room before dinner, found Peter standing infront of the fire. They had not been alone together for several days.

  "Well?" said he.

  Eve went to the fire and warmed her hands.

  "Well?" she said, dispiritedly.

  She was feeling nervous and ill. Mrs. Rastall-Retford had been in oneof her more truculent moods all day, and for the first time Eve had thesensation of being thoroughly beaten. She dreaded the long hours tobedtime. The thought that there might be bridge after dinner made herfeel physically ill. She felt she could not struggle through a bridgenight.

  On the occasions when she was in one of her dangerous moods, Mrs.Rastall-Retford sometimes chose rest as a cure, sometimes relaxation.Rest meant that she retired to her room immediately after dinner, andexpended her venom on her maid; relaxation meant bridge, and bridgeseemed to bring out all her worst points. They played the game forcounters at her house, and there had been occasions in Eve's experiencewhen the loss of a hundred or so of these useful little adjuncts to Funin the Home had lashed her almost into a frenzy. She was one of thosebridge players who keep up a running quarrel with Fate during the game,and when she was not abusing Fate she was generally reproaching herpartner. Eve was always her partner; and to-night she devoutly hopedthat her employer would elect to rest. She always played badly withMrs. Rastall-Retford, through sheer nervousness. Once she had revoked,and there had been a terrible moment and much subsequent recrimination.

  Peter looked at her curiously.

  "You're pale to-night," he said.

  "I have a headache."

  "H'm! How is our hostess? Fair? Or stormy?"

  "As I was passing her door I heard her bullying her maid, so I supposestormy."

  "That means a bad time for you?" he said, sympathetically.

  "I suppose so. If we play bridge. But she may go to bed directly afterdinner."

  She tried to keep her voice level, but he detected the break.

  "Eve," he said, quickly, "won't you let me take you away from here?You've no business in this sort of game. You're not tough enough.You've got to be loved and made a fuss of and----"

  She laughed shakily.

  "Perhaps you can give me the address of some lady who wants a companionto love and make a fuss of?"

  "I can give you the address of a man."

  She rested an arm on the mantelpiece and stood looking into the blaze,without replying.

  Before he could speak again there was a step outside the door, and Mrs.Rastall-Retford rustled into the room.

  Eve had not misread the storm-signals. Her employer's mood was still asit had been earlier in the day. Dinner passed in almost completesilence. Mrs. Rastall-Retford sat brooding dumbly. Her eye was cold andmenacing, and Peter, working his way through his vegetables, shudderedfor Eve. He had understood her allusion to bridge, having beenprivileged several times during his stay to see his hostess play thatgame, and he hoped that there would be no bridge to-night.

  And this was unselfish of him, for bridge meant sandwiches. Punctuallyat nine o'clock on bridge nights the butler would deposit on aside-table a plate of chicken sandwiches and (in deference to Peter'svegetarian views) a smaller plate of cheese sandwiches. At the close ofplay Mrs. Rastall-Retford would take one sandwich from each plate,drink a thimbleful of weak whisky and water, and retire.

  Peter could always do with a sandwich or two these days. But he wasprepared to abandon them joyfully if his hostess would waive bridge forthis particular evening.

  It was not to be. In the drawing-room Mrs. Rastall-Retford came out ofher trance and called imperiously for the cards. Peter, when he saw hishand after the first deal, had a presentiment that if all his handswere to be as good as this, the evening was going to be a trying one.On the other occasions when they had played he had found it anextremely difficult task, even with moderate cards, to bring it aboutthat his hostess should always win the odd rubber, for he was anexcellent player, and, like most good players, had an artisticconscience which made it painful to him to play a deliberately badgame, even from the best motives. If all his hands were going to be asstrong as this first one he saw that there was disaster ahead. He couldnot help winning.

  Mrs. Rastall-Retford, who had dealt the first hand, made a mostimproper diamond declaration. Her son unfilially doubled, and, Evehaving chicane--a tragedy which her partner evidently seemed toconsider could have been avoided by the exercise of ordinary commonsense--Peter and his partner, despite Peter's best efforts, won thegame handsomely.

  The son of the house dealt the next hand. Eve sorted her cardslistlessly. She was feeling curiously tired. Her brain seemed dulled.

  This hand, as the first had done, went all in favour of the two men.Mr. Rastall-Retford won five tricks in succession, and, judging fromthe glitter in his mild eye, was evidently going to win as many more ashe possibly could. Mrs. Rastall-Retford glowered silently. There waselectricity in the air.

  The son of the house led a club. Eve played a card mechanically.

  "Have you no clubs, Miss Hendrie?"

  Eve started, and looked at her hand.

  "No," she said.

  Mrs. Rastall-Retford grunted suspiciously.

  Not long ago, in Westport, Connecticut, U.S.A., a young man namedHarold Sperry, a telephone worker, was boring a hole in the wall of ahouse with a view to passing a wire through it. He whistled joyously ashe worked. He did not know that he had selected for purposes ofperforation the exact spot where there lay, nestling in the brickwork,a large leaden water-pipe. The first intimation he had of that fact waswhen a jet of water suddenly knocked him fifteen feet into a rosebush.

  As Harold felt then, so did Eve now, when, examining her hand once moreto make certain that she had no clubs, she discovered the ace of thatilk peeping coyly out from behind the seven of spades.

  Her face turned quite white. It is never pleasant to revoke at bridge,but to Eve just then it seemed a disaster beyond words. She lookedacross at her partner. Her imagination pictured the scene there wouldbe ere long, unless----

  It happens every now and then that the human brain shows in a crisis anunwonted flash of speed. Eve's did at this juncture. To her in hertrouble there came a sudden idea.

  She looked round the table. Mr. Rastall-Retford, having taken the lasttrick, had gathered it up in the introspective manner of one planningbig _coups_, and was brooding tensely, wit
h knit brows. His motherwas frowning over her cards. She was unobserved.

  She seized the opportunity. She rose from her seat, moved quickly tothe side-table, and, turning her back, slipped the fatal carddexterously into the interior of a cheese sandwich.

  Mrs. Rastall-Retford, absorbed, did not notice for an instant. Then shegave tongue.

  "What are you doing, Miss Hendrie?"

  Eve was breathing quickly.

  "I--I thought that Mr. Rayner might like a sandwich."

  She was at his elbow with the plate. It trembled in her hand.

  "A sandwich! Kindly do not be so officious, Miss Hendrie. The idea--inthe middle of a hand----" Her voice died away in a resentful mumble.

  Peter started. He had been allowing his thoughts to wander. He lookedfrom the sandwich to Eve and then at the sandwich again. He waspuzzled. This had the aspect of being an olive-branch--could it be?Could she be meaning----? Or was it a subtle insult? Who could say? Atany rate it was a sandwich, and he seized it, without prejudice.

  "I hope at least you have had the sense to remember that Mr. Rayner isa vegetarian, Miss Hendrie," said Mrs. Rastall-Retford. "That is not achicken sandwich?"

  "No," said Eve; "it is not a chicken sandwich."

  Peter beamed gratefully. He raised the olive-branch, and bit into itwith the energy of a starving man. And as he did so he caught Eve'seye.

  "Miss Hendrie!" cried Mrs. Rastall-Retford.

  Eve started violently.

  "Miss Hendrie, will you be good enough to play? The king of clubs tobeat. I can't think what's the matter with you to-night."

  "I'm very sorry," said Eve, and put down the nine of spades.

  Mrs. Rastall-Retford glared.

  "This is absurd," she cried. "You _must_ have the ace of clubs. Ifyou have not got it, who has? Look through your hand again. Is itthere?"

  "No."

  "Then where can it be?"

  "Where can it be?" echoed Peter, taking another bite.

  "Why--why," said Eve, crimson, "I--I--have only five cards. I ought tohave six."

  "Five?" said Mrs. Rastall-Retford "Nonsense! Count again. Have youdropped it on the floor?"

  Mr. Rastall-Retford stooped and looked under the table.

  "It is not on the floor," he said. "I suppose it must have been missingfrom the pack before I dealt."

  Mrs. Rastall-Retford threw down her cards and rose ponderously. Itoffended her vaguely that there seemed to be nobody to blame. "I shallgo to bed," she said.

  * * * * *

  Peter stood before the fire and surveyed Eve as she sat on the sofa.They were alone in the room, Mr. Rastall-Retford having driftedsilently away in the wake of his mother. Suddenly Eve began to laughhelplessly.

  He shook his head at her.

  "This is considerably sharper than a serpent's tooth," he said. "Youshould be fawning gratefully upon me, not laughing. Do you suppose KingCharles laughed at my ancestor when he ate the despatches? However, forthe first time since I have been in this house I feel as if I had had asquare meal."

  Eve became suddenly serious. The smile left her face.

  "Mr. Rayner, please don't think I'm ungrateful. I couldn't helplaughing, but I can't tell you how grateful I am. You don't know whatit would have been like if she had found out that I had revoked. I didit once before, and she kept on about it for days and days. It wasawful." She shivered. "I think you must be right, and my nerves_are_ going."

  He nodded.

  "So are you--to-morrow, by the first train. I wonder how soon we canget married. Do you know anything about special licenses?"

  She looked at him curiously.

  "You're very obstinate," she said.

  "Firm," he corrected. "Firm. Could you pack to-night, do you think, andbe ready for that ten-fifty to-morrow morning?"

  She began to trace an intricate pattern on the floor with the point ofher shoe.

  "I can't imagine why you are fond of me!" she said. "I've been veryhorrid to you."

  "Nonsense. You've been all that's sweet and womanly."

  "And I want to tell you why," she went on. "Your--your sister----"

  "Ah, I thought as much!"

  "She--she saw that you seemed to be getting fond of me, and she----"

  "She would!"

  "Said some rather horrid things that--hurt," said Eve, in a low voice.

  Peter crossed over to where she sat and took her hand.

  "Don't you worry about her," he said. "She's not a bad sort really, butabout once every six months she needs a brotherly talking-to, or shegets above herself. One is about due during the next few days."

  He stroke her hand.

  "Fasting," he said, thoughtfully, "clears and stimulates the brain. Ifancy I shall be able to think out some rather special things to say toher this time."