Mrs Lupton sat down amid a general feeling of disappointment. People eyed the rest of the Matthews family, wondering which of them would next be called. The Coroner said something to the Clerk, and Superintendent Hannasyde finally annihilated all hope in the breasts of the curious by getting up and asking for an adjournment pending police inquiries. This was granted, and there was nothing left for the disgusted spectators to do except go home, and indulge their imaginations in a good deal of fruitless surmise.
Owen Crewe, threading his way out of the court-room in the wake of his wife, said into her ear: “I told you you were wasting your time,” and began to feel much more amiable, and forbore to snub Janet when she squeezed her way up to him and announced that she was so thankful nothing more had happened. Once outside the building he firmly declined an invitation to lunch with his mother-in-law, told his wife that while she might do as she pleased he had every intention of returning to town, and walked off purposefully to where he had parked his car. Agnes would have liked to have talked it all over with her mother, but as her ideal of matrimony was founded largely on the theory that wives should whenever possible accompany their husbands, she bade her family a regretful farewell and went dutifully away with Owen.
Miss Matthews, who had attended the Inquest armed with a shopping-basket and a list of groceries, darted off in the direction of the High Street; and Mrs Matthews, leaning slightly on her son's arm, smiled wanly on those of her acquaintance whom she happened to notice, and proclaimed her utter spiritual exhaustion. “I feel,” she said in a solemn voice, “that I must have just a little interval of quiet. Stella dear, I wonder if you can see Pullen anywhere?”
“Yes, he's waiting on the other side of the square,” said Stella.
“Tell him to bring the car here, dearest. Oh, he has seen us!” She turned to bestow one expensively gloved hand on Edward Rumbold. “I haven't thanked you for coming,” she said deeply.. “I think you know what we feel. To know that one had a friend at one's side during that terrible ordeal—! Is it foolish of me to be so sensitive? To me it was an agony of the spirit. All those hundreds of eyes, fixed on one!” She shuddered, held Mr Rumbold's hand an instant longer, and then released it. “If only one could feel that one had left all the unpleasantness behind in that stuffy court!”
“You must try not to let it upset you,” said Edward Rumbold kindly. “Of course it's all very distressing for you, and we're very sorry about it.”
She gave a faint, brave smile. “I can't talk of it now,” she said. “When I have had time to collect my thoughts… Will you come in and see us a little later on? At teatime, perhaps?”
“Yes, I'll come if you want me, of course,” he replied. “But —”
“Oh, do!” said Stella suddenly. “It's too ghastly when there's no one but Family in the house.”
He could not help laughing. “After that highly flattering invitation, how could I refuse?” he said teasingly.