"I don't know. Association of ideas, I suppose. Two murders in the same house."
"I didn't say Mrs. Haddington was murdered in the house," said Hemingway mildly.
Guisborough scowled at him. "You may not have said it, but you asked me when I left the house, so the inference is fairly obvious! I'm not half-witted!"
"True enough," Hemingway agreed. "She was murdered in the house. In her boudoir, just like Mr.. Seaton-Carew."
"Ugh!" exclaimed Miss Guisborough, shuddering. "What a cold-blooded beast! Damn it, I loathed the woman, and everything she stood for, but I didn't wish her as much harm as that! I'm sorry I laughed. What about that kid? Is she all alone there, except for those upstage servants? Look here, Lance, ought we to do something? I mean, I don't mind, if you'd like me to bring her back here, or stay there with her."
Lord Guisborough had apparently no faith in his sister's ability to comfort and support the stricken, for he replied: "Very decent of you, but I don't think I should. There's the secretary, you know - and Cynthia hardly knows you! Besides, she - Well, I don't think it would work!"
"You mean she doesn't like me. Oh, all right! But if you want to go and hold her hand, you go! I can look after this mob."
"No," he said. "No, I'm not going. Not this evening, anyway. She probably knows I lost my temper with her mother, and she might not want to see me, as things are."
"That's all right, my lord," Hemingway said. "Miss Haddington had gone to bed before I left, and she has her aunt with her in any case."
Guisborough looked relieved. "Oh, I'm glad of that!