The Wintringham Mystery by Anthony Berkeley

Author:Anthony Berkeley [Berkeley, Anthony]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2021-05-03T17:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XIII

TRAGIC NEWS

STEPHEN came down to breakfast the next morning with his mind made up on one point. However pressing the mysterious happenings at Wintringham Hall, they must be allowed to slide for one day at any rate; his own affairs (or rather Pauline’s affairs) must come first. He would go up to London, as he promised himself the night before, and seek an interview with Pauline’s father.

There was no need to hurry. A train leaving the neighbouring station of Thornton at half-past twelve would get him up in plenty of time and still allow Pauline and himself an hour or two in which to examine the possibilities of the secret room. He announced his intention to Millicent at breakfast.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Millicent, even more vaguely than usual, for she looked as if she had not had a wink of sleep the previous night and was correspondingly distrait. ‘Er—Collins,’ she added to the grenadier-like new parlourmaid, who entered at that moment with some fresh toast, ‘will you tell Parker to have the car round here at a quarter-past twelve to go to the station for Mr Munro, who has to go up to London on important business.’ Millicent was one of those people who invariably enter into unnecessary explanations to servants.

‘No, please don’t trouble, Miss Carey,’ Stephen interposed hurriedly. ‘I’d rather walk. There’s a short cut through the park, isn’t there?’

‘Well, there is,’ Millicent admitted, ‘if you really want to.’

‘I do,’ Stephen smiled.

‘Then the car won’t be wanted, Collins,’ Millicent pointed out a trifle superfluously.

‘Very good, madam,’ replied the grenadier tonelessly.

Sir Julius, Stephen learnt, had breakfasted early and had already retired to the library, where he expected to be busy all the morning with the telephone. Freddie, Baby, Henry and Annette had arranged to play a foursome of golf, and departed immediately after breakfast. The Colonel retired with The Times, Millicent was busy with her household duties, and Miss Rivers was attending upon Lady Susan.

So far luck had been on the side of Stephen and Pauline; but there it deserted them. Starcross, who had nobody left to talk to, showed very plainly that he wanted to talk to them; and do what they could, they were quite unable to shake him off.

They expatiated on the beautiful walks which a solitary person might enjoy in the vicinity, and Starcross did not take the hint; they retired to the billiard-room, and Starcross followed them, so that they were compelled to play a fifty-up game which neither of them desired in the very least; they kept offering to lend him books, which they praised in the most extravagant terms, but Starcross could not be driven into the mood for reading. Finally Stephen said he had some letters to write and retired to his bedroom, and Pauline said she had some letters to write too and retired to her own. Ten minutes later they met in the drawing-room. After that they lost no more time.

‘This is a bit better,’ Stephen observed, flashing an electric torch over the dusty walls of the little priest-hole.

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