“Bradbury,” said Mrs. Fisher. “I have some good news for you.”
“Is your mother leaving?” asked Bradbury eagerly.
“Of course not. I said good news. I am taking up golf again.”
Bradbury Fisher clutched at the arms of his chair, and an ashen pallor spread itself over his clean-cut face.
“What did you say?” he muttered.
“I’m taking up golf again. Won’t it be nice? We’ll be able to play together every day.”
Bradbury Fisher shuddered strongly. It was many years since he had played with his wife, but, like an old wound, the memory of it still troubled him occasionally.
“It was Vosper’s idea.”
“Vosper!”
A sudden seething fury gripped Bradbury. This pestilent butler was an absolute home-wrecker. He toyed with the idea of poisoning Vosper’s port. Surely, if he were to do so, a capable lawyer could smooth things over and get him off with, at the worst, a nominal fine.