Stella came back in a few moments, and said curtly that Mrs Lupton was coming at once.
“What did she say?” Guy asked.
“Nothing much. Utterly taken aback at first. Then she just said she'd come round. She'll be here in about ten minutes.”
They sat down to wait. After what seemed an age they heard the hush of tyres on the gravel-drive, and in another minute or two Mrs Lupton walked into the room.
It was a relief to find, in a world become suddenly distorted, that Mrs Lupton was still herself. She swept a glance round the room, and said in a voice of outraged majesty: “What is all this nonsense Stella tried to tell me?”
“It's true,” Guy said. “Aunt Harriet's dead.”
Mrs Lupton said: “Impossible! I don't believe it!” Then, as though the inutility of these words dawned on her, she added: “It is incredible! I hardly know what I am saying. How did it happen? She was well enough last night!”
“It must have been a stroke,” Mrs Matthews answered. “I said so the instant I saw her. The worry of Gregory's death—it was all too much for her.”
“A stroke! Harriet?” Mrs Lupton looked from her sister-in-law to her nephew. She moved towards a chair, and sat down in it. “Kindly tell me at once what has happened here!” she commanded.
“She said she felt seedy at breakfast,” Guy said jerkily. “We thought she'd eaten something that disagreed with her.”