“I should like to see her with salmon,” said George. “I should like to see her on Nalloch Water.”
“Muffin is ever so much better than I am,” said Miss Perry.
“She must come too,” said George.
“Yes, I think it is all right,” murmured his watchful adversary, with a little sigh. “I think the old duffer is to be trusted.”
Yet was he? Throughout the whole dinner the problem loomed before him. Doubtless it was the conduct of Caroline Crewkerne, in combination with the guilt upon his conscience that precipitated his uneasiness. That old woman had assumed a demeanor of concentrated scornfulness which even she had never surpassed. And to make things worse, she was continually putting forth sinister hints and indulging in sardonic little touches which unmistakably were aimed at his self-security.
There could be no doubt that Caroline Crewkerne was a bad one to cross. And further, there could be no doubt that she bitterly resented what she called “Cheriton’s tactics.” In the first place, he had committed the unpardonable offense of seeing through and making light of her devices. It required a very bold person indeed to do that.
After dinner Araminta and Elizabeth played billiards, while their elders were set to cards. Caroline Crewkerne had developed a talent for bridge, which, considering her advanced age, was surprising, Miss Burden also was learning to play very well, although it is true that she suffered from a cardinal weakness. Her reluctance to declare “no trumps” was due to something in her character, and, in the opinion of Cheriton, who was her partner as a rule, it was a great handicap in life. When it was George’s turn to be “dummy,” he invariably fell asleep, and before the game could proceed he had to be roused forcibly.
Caroline Crewkerne was one of those vigilant and seasoned warriors who are not very particular what time they go to bed. Therefore Cheriton counted upon being able to conduct a transaction that night which at the first opportunity he was determined to bring to a point. In this he was well within his reckoning, for Caroline Crewkerne and he easily sat out the others. It was about a quarter to eleven when George drank his final whisky and mineral water, and in a condition of impending somnolence went to his repose.
“Now, Caroline,” said Cheriton, in an extremely businesslike manner, “let us settle this thing one way or the other. We have been toying with it long enough.”
“What thing do you refer to, Cheriton?” inquired that accomplished dissembler, who merely asked the question as a matter of form.