“But, Deryk, Aunt Harriet! Who could want to kill her? Deryk, are you sure you aren't making a mistake?”
“Stella, I've told you I'm very sorry, but I can't help you. The matter must be reported to the Coroner immediately. My duty is perfectly clear.”
“But what are we going to do?” Stella said, wringing her hands together.
He said uncomfortably: “No one will think you had anything to do with it. Look here, I've got to go and report this. Try not to worry!” He added again: “I'm awfully sorry!” and hurried away downstairs.
Mrs Matthews had gone into the library, and was sitting on the sofa there, one hand fidgeting nervously with the pleats of her frock, the other gripping her handkerchief. Guy had gone over to the window, and was looking out. He heard Dr Fielding speak to Beecher in the hall, and then pick up the telephone-receiver, and he stole a glance at his mother. She did not seem to be attending; her mouth was folded tightly, her eyes were fixed on the opposite wall.
The doctor went away, and presently Beecher came in, looking pale and shocked. In a low voice, and keeping his eyes downcast, he wanted to know whether Mrs Matthews desired her lunch.
She did not move or answer. Guy said: “Mother!”
She was recalled to her surroundings with a slight start, and looked blankly from Guy to the butler. “Lunch?” she repeated. “Oh! No, I don't think I could swallow anything. You and Stella go, dear.”
“I don't want any either,” said Guy. “And I don't suppose Stella does.”
The butler bowed, and withdrew again. Mrs Matthews dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “I don't seem able to realise it,” she said. “Harriet gone! I shall miss her terribly.”