“Better out of that, m’lady,” said Nanny’s trembling voice. “Folks will be ringing for the lift. If Mr. Baskett and one of the twins got the top of the ironing trestle—”
Charlot said: “Yes. Will you, Baskett? And you, Colin, help him.”
The nearest twin went away with Baskett. Nanny followed them.
“Come away for a moment, Violet,” said Charlot. “Violet, come away.” Lady Wutherwood opened her mouth. “ No!” said Charlot. She propelled Lady Wutherwood forward into the hall and saw Roberta.
“Robin, get some brandy. Top shelf in the pantry.”
Robin had not been in the pantry. On the way she saw a maid’s face looking palely out of a distant door. She found the pantry. Her brain worked frantically to push down, thrust out of mind, the picture of the figure in the lift. It must be repudiated, displaced, covered up. She must do things. How did one know which of these bottles was brandy? Cognac meant brandy. She took it with a glass to the drawing-room. Henry stood over the desk-telephone. “At once. Couldn’t be more urgent. Yes, to the head. Through his eye. I said his eye.” He put the receiver down. “Dr. Kantripp’s coming, Mummy.”
“Good,” said Charlot. Roberta had given her a tumbler half full of brandy. The edge of the tumbler chattered like a castanet against Lady Wutherwood’s teeth. Henry, with an expression of disgust, glanced at his aunt.
“Better have some yourself,” he said to his mother. She shook her head. Henry added quickly: “And I rang up the police.”
“Good.”
Feet stumbled on the landing beyond the hall.