"Rather!" said Miss Lethbridge. "I had my appendicitis in a room at St. Michael's, and Dandie Dinmont held my head and my hand alternately. And she held them very well, I will say that for her. Shake hands with Miss Dinmont, Meg. My sister, Mrs. Ratcliffe. Who'd have thought you had cousins in the force!"
"I suppose you are recuperating too, Inspector?" Mrs. Ratcliffe said.
"You could call it that, I suppose," the inspector said. "My cousin is on holiday from Mike's, and I have finished my case, so we are making a day of it."
"Well, it isn't teatime yet," said Miss Lethbridge. "Sit down and talk to us for a little. I haven't seen Dandie for ages."
"You'll be glad to have that awful case off your hands, Inspector," her sister said as they subsided on the shingle. She spoke as though the murder had been just as much of an event in Grant's life as it had been in hers, but the inspector let it pass, and presently the talk veered away from the murder and went via health, restaurants, hotels, and food to dress, or the lack of it.
"I love your hat brooch," said Miss Dinmont idly to her friend. "I can think of nothing but hat brooches this afternoon, be-cause we've just been buying one for a mutual cousin who is getting married. You know — like getting a new coat and seeing people's coats as you never saw them before. I have it here somewhere." She reached for her bag without altering her reclining position, and rummaged in it until she produced the blue velvet box. "What do you think of it?" She opened it and extended it to them.
"Oh, lovely!" said Miss Lethbridge, but Mrs. Ratcliffe said nothing for a little.
"M. R.," she said at last. "Why, the initials are the same as mine. What is your cousin's name?"
"Mary Raymond."
"Sounds like a goody-goody heroine out of a book," remarked Miss Lethbridge. "Is she goody?"