“It may. If anything does go wrong and one of us has to die, promise you’ll let it be me!”
I was dispensed from answering by Barbara’s sudden surrender to hysterics. When she was recovered, I put her to bed and sent for Gaisford; as soon as he allowed her up, I took her to Crawleigh Abbey and left her to recuperate from something which the doctor described enigmatically as “a nervous breakdown that didn’t come off”.
“I’ve been expecting this for years,” he told me. “And for years I’ve felt that she’d be a healthier, happier woman when she had some brats to look after. This business about Eric Lane must have been a shock to her.”
“Well, thank Heaven, that’s all over,” I said.
“At last,” Gaisford grunted. “If you’re going down to Crawleigh . . .”
“I shall stay here, except for week-ends, unless I’m sent for,” I interrupted. “This is going to be a busy time. The peace terms are to be signed within the next few days.”
“I wonder what kind of mess they’ve been making out there,” Gaisford mused.
“You’re convinced it will be a mess?”
“My dear George, when two human beings get together, they always make a big mess,” he answered with more than his usual misanthropy; “and I’ve known human beings who could make a fair-sized mess with their four unaided paws.”