“Oh, I'm splendid, thanks!” replied Mrs Rumbold. “It was only Ned who would have it I needed a change of air.” She threw him a warm look as she spoke, and added: “You wouldn't believe the way he spoils me, that man!”
Mrs Matthews smiled politely, but made no remark. Miss Matthews, with a glance of hatred cast in her direction, asked Mr Rumbold to come and look at the plumb ago, and bore him off in triumph to the conservatory. She was a keen horticulturist, and soon became torn between a desire to talk solely of her troubles and an even stronger desire to compare notes with him on the progress of their respective rarities. She contrived in the end to do both, but became somewhat muddled, and kept on handing him earthy pots of flowers (which he could have looked at just as easily without having to hold them) with a slightly inconsequent recommendation to him to Look at the way she's behaving now, just as though she owned the whole house! He escaped from her presently on the pretext of being obliged to go and wash his hands, and went upstairs to do so only to fall a victim, on his way down again, to Mrs Matthews, who was on the look-out for him.
Later, Stella accompanied both the visitors down the drive to the gate, and said with a twinkle: “Did Mother tell you all her woes when Aunt Harriet had finished telling you hers, Mr Rumbold?”
He laughed. “You're an irreverent minx, Stella. She did tell me a certain amount.”
“Well, I hope you smoothed them both down. They're rather on each other's nerves.”
“And I'm sure it's not to be wondered at,” said Mrs Rumbold kindly. “A death in the house is enough to upset anybody, and when it comes to inquests and things, I'm not surprised at your mother and your auntie being a bit on edge.”
“We all are,” Stella said. “Uncle wasn't poisoned, of course, but somehow when a thing like that has been suggested you find yourself—sort of speculating on who might have done it. It's horrid.”
“I shouldn't think about it at all, if I were you,” said Edward Rumbold with calm good sense. “Dr Fielding is much more fitted to judge than your Aunt Gertrude, you know.”
“Yes,” agreed Stella. “Only if it did happen to be true, and the police come and ask us all questions won't it look rather black that Guy, and D—that Guy and I have been having rows with uncle?”
“Of course it won't,” said Edward Rumbold comfortingly. “The police don't arrest people merely because they've been quarrelling, you know! You're too fond of meeting troubles halfway, young woman.”