“The duck!” exclaimed Miss Matthews. “I knew it!”
“Yes, dear,” said Mrs Matthews comfortingly. “I thought at the time that it was a little unwise of you to have ordered duck, but I make it a rule never to interfere in your province. If only one could have foreseen the result!”
“What did your brother eat for dinner last night?” asked the doctor.
“Roast duck,” answered Miss Matthews, miserably. “It never did agree with him, and there were two beautiful lamb cutlets which he wouldn't touch. I can't bear to think of them.”
“I am afraid,” said Mrs Matthews, recapturing the doctor's attention, “that last night's dinner was not very suitable for anyone with a delicate digestion. There was a lobster cocktail for one thing—”
“Oh, but uncle didn't have that!” objected Stella. “He took about one mouthful, and said it wasn't fit for human consumption.”
“Darling child, please don't interrupt!” said her mother. “And soles with rather a rich sauce, doctor, and a cheese savoury, which I always consider most indigestible.”
“It sounds to me exactly the sort of ill-chosen meal I should expect you to order, Harriet,” said Mrs Lupton severely, “but I have yet to learn that Gregory had anything wrong with his digestion. My own impression is that there is a great deal more in this than meets the eye, and I insist on seeing my brother's corpse immediately.”
Mrs Matthews winced, and closed her eyes. “Please!” she said faintly. “Not that terrible word, Gertrude!”
“I have no patience with that kind of sentimentality,” said Mrs Lupton. “I believe in calling things by their proper names, and if you can tell me that my unfortunate brother is not a corpse I shall be very grateful to you. Henry, I am going up to Gregory's room. You had better come with me.”