The last plea was brought out with a dramatic touch worthy of a tragedy queen, and I know I felt like a worm of the dust and I devoutly hoped that Keeley felt even more so.
He gave one last bit of unsolicited advice.
“You’d better be with Miss Remsen when the police come, Mrs. Merivale,” he said, and no one could have put any construction on his words other than the kindest and most disinterested counsel.
Then we went away, and Keeley rowed us home without a word.
CHAPTER X
DISCUSSION
If Whistling Reeds had seemed desolate and sinister, Variable Winds was just the opposite. Clean, wind-swept, cheerful with flowers and only pleasantly shaded by the waving trees, the place was like sanctuary after the forbidding aspect of the island home.
Luncheon was ready and the two women who awaited our coming were not at all reproachful, but welcomed us with smiles.
“Dust up a bit and then come along,” admonished Lora, and we obeyed.
At the table, though the subject of the tragedy was not entirely taboo, there was no real discussion, until we were, later, seated in the lounge, comfortably smoking and resting from our strenuous morning.
“The keynote is the missing waistcoats,” Kee announced, oracularly.