Herman, busy removing the dessert plates, turned and eyed them with unconcealed interest. The servants at Ten Acres had little liking for Armstrong; his overbearing manner and utter lack of consideration for them accounted for his unpopularity. They accepted his generous tips with outward thanks and inward rebellion over his presence in the house.
Armstrong’s marked attention to Lucille had explained in Herman’s inquisitive mind the reason of Meredith’s many invitations to dinner-dances and house parties. That Meredith was particularly attached to the young stockbroker, the butler had had occasion to doubt, having witnessed one or two heated arguments between them. Armstrong had once or twice expressed himself at the dinner table in mocking terms about “bread and butter misses,” and therefore, that he should suddenly evince a preference for Anne’s society, whose unsophisticated outlook on life, and unspoiled, sunny disposition had endeared her to the servants, caused Herman to linger over his work in the dining room in the hope of overhearing what transpired. His hopes, however, were promptly frustrated.
“I hear the front doorbell, Herman,” Anne turned her back on Armstrong to address the butler. Looking over her shoulder, she spoke to Armstrong and the disdain in her charmingly modulated voice made him flush again, but this time with anger. “There is no occasion for seeing you alone, Gerald.”
“Isn’t there?” His laugh was unpleasant. “Suppose, instead of having a friendly chat with you, I go to the police?”
Anne’s hands clenched over her handkerchief. Without deigning to reply, she hurried into the hall in time to meet her mother as the latter came in the front door with Sam Hollister.
“Have you lunched, mother?” she asked, as Susanne appeared to take Mrs. Meredith’s wraps, while Herman relieved the lawyer of his overcoat and hat.
“I had a salad and cup of coffee at the Shoreham,” replied Mrs. Meredith. “How about you, Sam?”
“No luncheon for me, thanks.” Hollister picked up his leather brief case, and glanced at Mrs. Meredith. “Shall we proceed with business?”
“It would be best.” Mrs. Meredith removed her hat and handed it to Susanne, paused before the hall mirror to inspect her hair and gave it a deft touch here and there before turning to her daughter. “Come into the library, Anne. Where is Lucille?”
“Already in the library, mother.”