"It's not true! Mary won't inherit Clara Carter's fortune!" said Vicky. "Hugh says so!"
"She won't?" said Ermyntrude, momentarily diverted. "Well, I do call that a shame! Not that I ever believed in Wally's precious Aunt Clara, because, if you ask me there isn't any such person. And whatever the rights of it, I call it a real ungentlemanly thing to try to put the blame of Wally's death on to a couple of girls!"
Nothing that the Prince could say had the power to move her from this standpoint, and as he had, in fact, tried to do exactly what she accused him of, and was hampered in his denials by the Inspector's presence, he soon found himself in a very awkward position, and ended by losing his head, and recommending the Inspector to ask himself why the murdered man's relatives desired so palpably to discredit him.
It was not necessary for Vicky to fan the flames kindled by this unwary hand. The scene rocketed into the realms of melodrama, with Ermyntrude holding the centre of the stage, and the Prince trying to deliver an impassioned speech which was invariably interrupted at the third word.
Mary made one attempt to intervene, for she recognised the signs of rising hysteria in Ermyntrude, and guessed that this unleashed rage was to a great extent the outcome of overstrained nerves. Neither of the combatants paid the least attention to her soothing remarks, so she retired again into the background, and told Vicky that she ought to be ashamed of herself.
The Inspector glanced towards the door, measuring his chances of escape, but before he had made up his mind to risk the attempt, a fresh actor appeared upon the scene. Dr Chester stood upon the threshold, surveying the room. "What in the name of all that's wonderful is the matter?" he asked.
"Oh, Maurice, thank God you've come!" cried Mary, hurrying across the room towards him. "Oh, for Heaven's sake, do something!"
He took her hand, but looked towards Ermyntrude. "What is it?" he asked.
Her wrath had exhausted Ermyntrude. She collapsed suddenly on to the sofa, and burst into tears. "Ask him! Ask him what he said about my Vicky!" she sobbed. "Oh, I've never been so deceived in anyone in my life!"
The Prince at once burst into speech, but as his agitation had made him forget his English, no one, least of all the doctor, could understand much of what he said. It was Mary who gave the doctor a hurried account of the quarrel. He betrayed neither surprise nor indignation, but merely said that since the situation was clearly impossible, he thought the Prince had better come and stay at his house until after the Inquest.