Fortunately, the Chief Inspector was rescued from these deep waters by the entrance of Detective-officer Bagby, who informed him that Miss Haddington had that instant let herself into the house, and was being held in check by Miss Birtley.
Miss Pickhill shuddered, and got up from her chair, saying: "I will come at once! Poor child, she little knows! In the midst of life we are in death! I don't suppose she has ever heard those very true words, for, having been educated in a foreign country, how should she?"
Cynthia Haddington, exquisitely clothed in priMr..ose yellow under a coat of dark mink, and with a close hat of shaded brown and yellow wing-feathers on the back of her shining head, had been coaxed into the diningroom, and was interestedly surveying Mr.. James Kane. She held a cigarette between the fingers of one hand, and dangled a handbag and a pair of long gloves from the other. Only a purist would have described her as drunk. Not even the exaggeratedly high heels of her cutaway shoes caused her to stumble in her walk; and if her eyes seemed slightly blurred, and her inconsequent laugh a little too ready, her speech was perfectly clear. "Oh, are you Timothy's brother?" she said. "How marvellous! Oh, darling-Timothy, why weren't you at June's party? You could have taken me on to dinner somewhere! I got stuck with Philip Arnecliffe, and he was so drunk he let that ghastly Terrington woman tack herself on to us, with the latest boy friend! Too dim, so I said, Definitely not! and came home! Is Mummy livid with me? Honestly, I couldn't face spending the whole evening at home! June's got some marvellous new cocktail you make with absinthe: it makes you feel simply terrific! 0 God, is that you, Aunt Violet?… Who on earth are you?"
Hemingway, to whom the last question was addressed, preserved a tactful silence. He was a trifle stunned by this, his first, sight of Mrs. Haddington's beautiful daughter, for although he had been told that she was a very pretty girl he had not been prepared for quite so much empty loveliness.
Miss Pickhill, managing to soften the sharpness of her habitual tone, said that there was bad news for Cynthia to hear, and suggested that she should accompany her upstairs to her bedroom.
Cynthia stared at her in the blankest incomprehension. "Oh, hell, no, I don't want to trail all the way up to my room!" she protested. "Besides, why should I? No one's coming to dinner! I shall stay as I am." She blinked, as though to clear her vision, and suddenly demanded: "What are you all doing in here, anyway? You haven't had dinner, have you? Where's Mummy?"
Miss Pickhill cleared her throat. "Your dear mother has - has met with an accident, Cynthia!" she said.
"An accident? What's happened?" Cynthia asked, pitching the stub of her cigarette into the grate.
"Oh, dear, I don't know how to tell her!" said Miss Pickhill, sitting down suddenly, and, in the agitation of the moment, sniffing into one of her serviceable gloves, which she held in one hand.
"You tell her, Timothy!" Beulah said, in a low voice. "You'll do it best."