By the time Mrs Matthews had regretted that her wretched health prevented her from undertaking such an arduous duty, and Miss Matthews had declared that nothing would induce her to hand the reins over to her sister-in-law, the next course had arrived, a leg of lamb, which Mrs Lupton at once detected to be foreign. The sweet escaped criticism, but some sardines served up on toast as a savoury called forth a severe rebuke. Mrs Lupton after one mouthful, pushed her plate away and said that it was a false economy to buy cheap brands of sardines. Miss Matthews, seeing the savoury declined by the rest of the family, fiercely attacked her own, and said that there was nothing wrong with it at all.
In the drawing-room after dinner the three elder ladies maintained a sort of guerrilla warfare. Guy escaped to the library and Stella went early to bed, wondering whether, if she sold it, her car would realise enough money to enable her to leave the Poplars.
At breakfast next morning Guy was more cheerful than he had been since his uncle's death, and to his sister's relief announced his intention of resuming work on Monday. “Because it's obvious to me,” he said, “that nothing more is going to happen. It's just going to fizzle out.”
“I can't make out what the police are doing,” remarked Stella. “They seem to have stopped haunting the house. You don't suppose they've given it up, do you?”
“I shouldn't be surprised,” said Guy. “I don't blame them, either.”
“Somehow I don't think we're through with it,” Stella said. “There's one thing that rather puts the wind up me. Randall knows something.”
“Knows what?” Guy said, looking quickly up from the newspaper.
“He didn't say. But —” She broke off. “I rather think the police have got their eye on him.”
“How do you know? Who told you?”
“No one. I just do know.” She heard her aunt's step in the hall, and frowned at Guy, who had opened his mouth to question her further. “Not now! Aunt Harriet's coming.”