“I don't know, but you said yourself you were prepared to sign a death certificate. I can't understand your wanting a post-mortem. Supposing they do find poison? Everyone knows uncle had a row with you about me, and it seems to me the police are quite likely to start suspecting you of having given him poison.”
“They can suspect what they like,” said Fielding coolly. “But they'll be darned clever if they manage to prove that I ever administered poison to your uncle. Don't you worry your head about me, Stella: I haven't the slightest reason to fear a post-mortem.”
“Of course I didn't mean that I thought you really might have poisoned uncle,” said Stella. “But it does seem to me that things are going to be fairly beastly one way and another. The only nice part of it is that we shall be able to get married now without an awful fight. I don't think mother really minds about it. She's much more wrapped up in Guy than she is in me.”
He stretched out his hand to her across the table. “Well, that's a very nice part, anyway.”
She nodded. “Yes, because I hate rows. I should have married you whatever uncle said, but it makes it easier now that he's dead.”
Fielding got up, and came round behind her chair. “I'm going to ring for Jenner to bring in the next course,” he said, laying his hands on her shoulders. “But first I must kiss you.”
She raised her face, and as he bent over her put her hand to caress his lean cheek. “How many girls have you kissed, like that?” she asked, when she was able.
“Crowds,” he said, laughing.
She smiled, but said seriously: “I expect that's true. You were keen on Betty Mason before you thought of me, weren't you?”
“Never!”