"Yes, but when I give that impression, I'm just putting on an act," explained Vicky. "Actually, I'm rather a lousy shot, I think."
"I'll remember to tell the Inspector so, if he asks me," promised Mary.
Chapter Nine
By the next morning, nearly everyone connected with the case, instead of having been soothed by a night's repose, was in a state either of exasperation or of foreboding. The Inspector found himself bogged in a quagmire of evidence; Mary foresaw endless days of strain; the Prince had, apparently, realised his own position, and was feeling it acutely; and Ermyntrude had discovered a fresh grievance against Harold White. Only Vicky came down to breakfast with her usual serenity.
Ermyntrude had been persuaded to breakfast in her room, but not in solitude. She held a sort of court, sitting up in bed against such a background of silk, and laceedged pillows, and in such an exotic wrapper, that she reminded her visitors irresistibly of a sultan's favourite wife. The morning's post had brought her a certain measure of comfort, for the news of Wally's death had spread quickly over the countryside, and she was able to say with mournful pride that all the best people had written to her. Letters strewed the coverlet of her bed, and whenever she opened one that particularly gratified her, she summoned Mary or Vicky to her side to hear about it. In the intervals of reading the letters of condolence, and absentmindedly consuming a quantity of toast and marmalade, she issued general orders for the day, directed her maid what clothes to lay out for her, and discussed exhaustively the mourning raiment that must instantly be bought for her. Breakfast for those in the dining-room became an unquiet meal, disturbed continuously by the ringing of Ermyntrude's bell, and the constant appearances of housemaids bearing urgent, and very often contradictory, messages from the widow.
It had occurred to Ermyntrude, in the night watches, that not only had her husband met his death on his way to keep an assignation which she had known nothing about, but that no one had so far explained to her why he had gone over to see that Harold White. A note from Lady Dering, delivered by hand, took her mind off this problem for a little while, but she remembered it again when she rang for her breakfast, and at once sent for Mary and commanded her instantly to ring up the Dower House, and to summon White to her presence.
"You mark my words, dearie, whatever it was that took poor Wally there, that White wasn't up to any good!" she said. "And considering my position, and Wally being shott practically in his garden, I should have thought the least he could do would be to have come right over to apologise - well, no, I don't mean that exactly, but, anyway, he ought to have come."
By this time, Mary had been connected with the Dower House. Janet's voice hurried into distressful speech, and for quite a few moments Mary had no opportunity of delivering Ermyntrude's message. However, when she saw Ermyntrude stretch out a hand to wrest the pink enamel receiver away from her, she broke in on the flood of Janet's condolences, and said that Ermyntrude was anxious to see White, and would be grateful if he could spare the time to call on her on his way to the colliery offices.
"Grateful!" ejaculated Ermyntrude. "Don't talk so silly to her, Mary! Tell her I say he is to come!"
Mary did not pass on this peremptory message, because Janet was explaining that her father had left for the collieries.