Randall's car was not to be seen when they arrived at the Poplars, but the first sound that met their ears when they were admitted into the house was that of Mrs Lupton's voice. A man's hat lying on the table beside a pair of brown leather gloves seemed to indicate that her husband might also be present. Hannasyde looked at the hat without appearing to do so, and turned to greet Miss Harriet Matthews, who came out of the library towards him. She was looking flustered, and annoyed, and spoke in an even more disjointed fashion than usual. “Oh, you've come!” she said. “Well, I'm sure it's nothing to do with me—oh, how do you do, Mr Carrington? I didn't see you!—but I must say I can't see what poor Gregory's private papers have to do with the police, and I consider it most officious—not that anyone pays the least heed to what I say. You needn't think you're going to find anything, because I know perfectly well there's nothing to find, and if there did happen to be any letters about the Brazilian business it proves nothing at all, whatever my sister may have told you to the contrary, as I've no doubt she did!”
Mrs Lupton came out of the library in the middle of this speech, followed by her husband, and said with her customary air of majesty: “Do not make yourself ridiculous, Harriet. Good-morning, gentlemen. I understand you wish to inspect my brother's papers?”
“It has nothing whatever to do with you, Gertrude!” said Miss Matthews excitedly. “I won't be treated like a cypher in my own house! You've no business here at all, behaving as though you were the one who had to be consulted! No one asked you to come, and no one wanted you!”
“Ah, good-morning, Mr Carrington!” cooed a voice from the stairs. Mrs Matthews had made her appearance, and bestowed a gracious smile on Giles, and a more formal one on the Superintendent. “Such a lovely morning, isn't it? Dear Gertrude! What a surprise! And Henry, too!”
Miss Matthews eyed her with smouldering resentment. “Well, you're down very early, Zoë!” she said. “Quite remarkable! Of bourse, none of us can guess why. Oh, no!”
“Perhaps it was not quite wise of me,” agreed Mrs Matthews. “But on a day like this one feels glad to be alive.” Her smile was once more directed towards Giles. I'm afraid they will tell you that I am rather a hopeless old crock, Mr Carrington.”
“If you mean me, Zoë,” said Mrs Lupton witheringly, “I should not tell Mr Carrington anything of the sort. I do not propose to discuss you with him at all, but were I to do so I should not describe you as a hopeless crock, but as a malade imaginaire. Mr Carrington, I believe you are in charge of my brother's keys. Kindly come this way.”
Mrs Matthews gave a shudder. “All these sordid details! I suppose it has to be.”
“Yes, I'm afraid it has,” said Giles in his pleasant way.
“If anyone has a right to object it is I, and certainly not my sister-in-law!” snapped Miss Matthews. “Not that I do object. Why should I?”