At this moment Randall Matthews walked into the house. Apparently he was in time to overhear his aunt's remarks, for he said as though he had been taking part in the conversation: “No one has any right to object. Dear me, what can have brought my dear Aunt Gertrude here, I wonder?”
“You don't know what we were talking about!” said Miss Matthews angrily.
“No, but I feel sure my answer was the right one,” replied Randall. His gaze returned to Mrs Lupton. “You are not unexpected, my dear aunt, but, believe me, superfluous.”
“I shall not pretend to be ignorant of your meaning, Randall,” announced Mrs Luton. “In your eyes I've no doubt I am superfluous, but I suppose I am concerned at least as much as you are with my brother's death. If light is shed by his private papers I expect to be told of it.”
“If so singular a phenomenon occurs the whole world shall be told of it,” promised Randall. “Carrington, you have the key to Bluebeard's chamber. Do come and open it!”
A storm of protest broke out at this piece of flippancy. Without paying the least heed to it Randall conducted Giles and Hannasyde to his uncle's study, and waited unconcernedly while the key was fitted into the lock.
As one making civil conversation Hannasyde said: “I'm sorry the ladies should be distressed about this, Mr Matthews. These things are always rather painful for the rest of the family.”
Randall's eyes flickered to his face. “Well, you never know, do you?” he said. “Lots of little things in our lives we should prefer to bury in decent oblivion.”
“Such as, Mr Matthews?”
“I haven't seen my uncle's correspondence yet,” replied Randall sweetly.