“My opinion of Randall must be as well known to you as it is to him,” said Mrs Lupton, “but personal feelings are beside the point. So far as we know Randall is his uncle's heir. He is certainly the head of the family, and he should be summoned.”
“I must say,” remarked Janet with an air of originality, “that I don't like Randall. I know it's wrong of me, but I just can't help it. He's the sort of person I could never trust. I don't know why, I'm sure.”
“Oh, because he's like an amiable snake,” said Stella light-heartedly. “Smooth, and fanged.”
The door opened. “Mr Randall Matthews!” announced Beecher.
Chapter Three
“Hell!” said Guy audibly.
There entered a sleek and beautiful young man who paused just inside the door, and glanced round at his assembled relatives with a bland and faintly mocking smile. He was dressed with the most finicking care, and nothing could have been more symphonic than the blend of his shirt with his silk socks and his expensive tie. His figure was extremely elegant; his hands were well-manicured; his jet-black hair was brushed into waves undisturbed by the slightest disorder; and his teeth were so gleamingly white and regular that they might have served for an advertisement for somebody's toothpaste. His mouth was a little too thin-lipped to be perfect, and curled too sarcastically to be pleasant, but his eyes, set under straight brows and fringed by long lashes, were remarkable for their colour and brilliance. They were of a startling and deep blue, very hard, generally half-hidden by drooping lids, and occasionally disconcerting in their sudden alertness. As he looked from one to the other of his relations they were smiling, and quite limpid.
“How lovely for me!” he said in a voice of honeyed sweetness. “Not only my dear Aunt Gertrude, but my charming cousin Janet as well!” He walked forward, graceful and rather feline, and bent to kiss his aunt's cheek. “My dear aunt! You look so nice in that hat.”
“Do you think so?” said Mrs Lupton unresponsively.
“I've thought so for years,” he said gently, and passed on to Miss Matthews. “You must none of you bother to say how pleased you are to see me,” he said. “I can read it in all your expressive faces.” He looked critically at Stella, and strolled across the room towards her. “Yes, darling, that is quite a nice frock, but the handkerchief is not only the wrong shade of grey, but quite damnably tied. Let me show you, my sweet.”