The Unfinished Clue Read online

  Camilla gave an affected little shriek. "Really, you are the most dreadfully masterful man I've ever met!" she said. "I should be terrified of being your partner now. I know you'd bark at me in that paralysing parade voice of yours every time I missed a shot, and I should be simply petrified with fear. And it isn't I who want to play at all. I'm completely exhausted, and I'd far rather stay where I am, and — now don't be cross with me! Promise you won't be?"

  "That's a very easy promise," said the General.

  "Then I'll confess that I'm simply dying to meet the de Silva!" said Camilla audaciously. "I think it's just too thrilling!"

  "Who is this Miss de Silva?" asked Stephen Guest in a low voice.

  "Geoffrey's intended," replied Dinah, finishing what was left of her tea. "Cabaret dancer. Said to be Mexican."

  "Good heavens! Is he bringing her here? Young fool!" He glanced towards Fay, who had seated herself again behind the tea-table, and added, almost beneath his breath: "I suppose you realise who it is who will be made to suffer?"

  "Let us go and look at the roses," said Dinah. "Come on!"

  He looked down at her, his eyes still smouldering, but considerably puzzled. "What?"

  "Go and look at the roses," repeated Dinah firmly, and got up. "We're going for a stroll in the rose garden, Fay."

  Mrs. Halliday overheard this, and gave her brittle laugh. "How too romantic!"

  "My husband is a very keen gardener," Fay said. "You must get him to show you round some time."

  Camilla Halliday sent her a quick look under her lashes, weighing her. "I should adore it!" she murmured. "Will you, dear Sir Arthur?"

  "Delighted!" he assured her. "Any time! I can only say that I should like my roses to see you."

  Dinah looked back over her shoulder. "And even that isn't original," she said pensively. "Come on, Stephen."

  They descended the shallow steps on to the lawn, and began to stroll across it. Once they were out of earshot Dinah said: "You were an awful ass to come, you know."

  "Maybe."

  "It's no use trying to shut me up," said Dinah. "Ask Arthur. And if you don't mind my saying so, you won't make matters any better by doing the strong, silent man stuff whenever Arthur goes for Fay."

  He smiled rather reluctantly. "Do I?"

  "Rather! Like a western hero."

  "I've been out west," he remarked inconsequently.

  "I should think you were a huge success," said Dinah with great cordiality.

  "Africa too," he ruminated. "Then I struck Australia for a spell. It's a great country."

  "So I've been told. Is there anywhere you haven't been?"

  "I've knocked round most of the tough spots in this world," he admitted. "You learn quite a lot, rolling round."

  "What you don't seem to learn," said Dinah, "is a little ordinary sense. It's just dam' silliness to come and stay here. All it does is to make you want to take Arthur into a wide, open space and knock his teeth down his throat. I know."

  Stephen Guest's large,, capable hands clenched slowly. "By God, it does!" he said, and drew a long breath.

  "Well, you can't go knocking people's teeth out when they're as old as Arthur," Dinah pointed out.

  "I don't know that that would worry me a lot," replied Guest. "It wouldn't take much from him to make me see red."

  "Then you jolly well oughtn't to come here."

  "Fay wanted me," he said.

  "Your job," said Dinah, "is to make Fay want you much more than that. I've been advising her to run away with you."

  He reddened under his tan, and said gruffly: "You're a good sort, Dinah. She won't, though."

  "No, not while she can get you to come down here every time she feels like it."

  Stephen Guest considered this. "I see," he said presently. "Thanks for the advice. Don't know that I shall take it." He paused under an arbour, and frowningly regarded a cluster of pink blooms. "Ever seen Lola de Silva?"

  "That pleasure is yet to come. Have you?"

  "M'm." A gleam of satisfaction shone in his eye. "Saw her at the Cafe Grecque once."

  Dinah waited for more, but as Guest seemed to have relapsed into his habitual taciturnity she urged him kindly not to keep anything back.

  Thus adjured, he replied: "Oh, I don't know anything about her! I only thought she'd be a bit out of place here — from what I saw."

  Nothing further could be elicited from him. Dinah gave it up, and led the way back to the terrace.

  Chapter Two

  It was not until nearly six o'clock that the sound of a car driving up the long gravel sweep heralded the arrival of Geoffrey Billington-Smith and his proposed bride. Stephen Guest and Basil Halliday had gone into the billiard-room, and through the open windows at the other end of the terrace came the intermittent click of the balls. Fay also had left the terrace, on some murmured pretext. There remained Camilla, languorous in her long chair, holding an idly flirtatious conversation with the General, and Dinah, talking in a desultory fashion to Captain Billington-Smith.

  "Would you like me to make love to you, darling?" inquired Francis.

  "Do just as you like; I needn't listen," replied Dinah.

  "It seems to be the order of the day," he said softly."You don't like me a bit, do you, my sweet?"

  "No, not much."

  He accepted this with his faintly mocking smile, and continued to smoke for a minute or two in silence. "I'm not entirely sure that I like you," he remarked presently. "I've been trying to make up my mind about it. Let us change the subject. This is really very tiresome of Geoffrey, don't you agree?"

  "Yes, but it ought to be rather good value. Do you know Lola?"

  "I haven't taken her out to dinner, if that is what you mean. I've seen her dance. She wore feathers — not very many of them, but so artfully placed. No, I don't think Uncle will be pleased." He glanced towards her, and added affably: "How right you are, darling! Naturally I should be delighted if Geoffrey were disinherited in favour of me, but one must never bank on the future, must one? It is so like Geoffrey to put his father in a bad temper just when I want him mellow. Do not look so warningly at me: neither of them is paying the least heed to us. I am always careful not to offend Uncle."

  "I thought you must have come to make a touch," said Dinah.

  "You mustn't pride yourself on your intuition, however. It was quite obvious. I cannot conceive any other reason for wishing to come here. Or rather I can, of course, but there's a law — Mosaic, I fancy — against making love to one's aunts."

  It was at this moment that the car-wheels were heard. They did not penetrate to the General's consciousness, but in another few minutes Fay came out on to the terrace from the drawing-room and interrupted his tête-a-tête with the news that Geoffrey had arrived.

  "Well, what of it?" demanded the General. "Does he expect me to wait for him on the door-step?"

  "Arthur — Miss de Silva!" said Fay, on a note of entreaty.

  The General turned as his son's betrothed stepped out on to the terrace.

  Miss de Silva made her entrance as one accustomed to being received by volleys of applause.

  It was not difficult to see why Geoffrey, who was standing smiling nervously and a little fatuously over her shoulder, had fallen in love with her. She was a most striking lady, even beautiful, with enormous dark eyes, an enchanting nose, a lovely, petulant mouth, and clusters of black curls springing from under the very latest thing in hats — a tiny confection, daringly worn over one-half of her head.

  Her orange and black and jade suit (though labelled "Sports Wear" by the genius who designed it) might have been considered by some people to be unsuitable for a drive into the country, nor, on a warm June afternoon, did an immensely long stole of silver fox furs all clipped together, heads to tails, seem really necessary. But no one could deny that Miss de Silva carried these well.

  Until her arrival Camilla Halliday had seemed a little overdressed, a little too heavily made up, but no other woman's dress or make-up
could appear remarkable when Miss de Silva was present.

  The General got up, blinking, and his prospective daughter-in-law at once introduced herself, "I am Lola," she said. "You know me, perhaps, but still I present myself."

  The General shook hands with her, as one in honour bound. "No, I can't say that I do," he replied stiffly.

  A slightly austere look crept over Miss de Silva's face. "That is to me extraordinary," she said. "But it is seen that you live retired, and I am not at all offended. I have a mind extremely large. It is impossible to offend me. But I must tell you that I find myself in great distraction, and at once the affair must be arranged, if you please."

  "What affair?" said the General, casting a goaded look towards his wife.

  "It's all right, Arthur. I've given orders about it," Fay said placatingly. "There wasn't room in Geoffrey's car for Miss de Silva's maid, and she is coming by train. Miss de Silva wants her to be met."

  "And if she has not arrived on the train, which is a thing one must fear, for she is a great fool, Geoffrey must go at once to London, for it is quite his fault, and he has behaved with a stupidity which is remarkable, to think that my luggage can be put in his little car."

  "Shouldn't have thought there was the least difficulty about it myself," said Sir Arthur. "Ridiculous nonsense!"

  Fay, resolutely refusing to catch her sister's eye, laid a hand on Miss de Silva's arm. "Please don't worry about it!" she begged. "I'm sure she will arrive quite safely. I want to introduce you to Mrs. Halliday, and to my sister, Miss Fawcett." Miss de Silva summed up both these ladies in one cursory glance, and bestowed on them her hashing smile. "And to my husband's nephew, Captain Billington-Smith," added Fay.

  Francis rose superbly to the occasion and gracefully kissed the fair Lola's hand. "Need I say that this is a much-longed-for moment?" he said. "I have had the inestimable pleasure of seeing you dance."

  Miss de Silva accepted this. "I dance very well," she stated. "All over the world people say how well I dance."

  "I'm afraid we don't go in for that sort of thing down here," said Sir Arthur crushingly. "Though I've seen the Russians. Marvellous! Most perfect dancing!"

  "I dance better than the Russians," said Miss de Silva simply.

  Once more Fay intervened. "We shall hope to see you one day. But won't you sit down? I'm sure you'd like some tea after your drive, wouldn't you?"

  Lola disposed herself in one of the wicker-chairs, and allowed the silver fox stole to fall to the ground. "I do not drink tea, and it is too late now. I will have instead one little cocktail."

  This was too much for Sir Arthur, growing steadily redder in the face. "In this house, my dear young lady, cocktails are not served at six o'clock," he announced.

  "Then it is better that Geoffrey shall mix it for me," decided Lola, quite unruffled. "I shall not make any trouble for you then, and besides Geoffrey knows how it is I like my cocktail, and that is important too."

  Sir Arthur's voice took on a peculiarly harsh note. "Cocktails," he said, "will be served in the drawing-room at a quarter to eight, and not, let me assure you, one moment earlier."

  At this moment, before Lola, who was gazing at her host in an inquiring and quite uncomprehending manner, could reply, Guest and Halliday came out of the billiard-room, and a diversion was thus created. Under cover of fresh introductions Dinah whispered to Geoffrey that he must take Lola into the house. She had discovered that her week-end was to be a strenuous one, but she was not the girl to shirk an obvious duty. Since Geoffrey seemed incapable of moving Lola from the terrace, she announced that she was sure she had caught the sound of a car. "It's probably your maid," she told Lola. "Shall we go and see?"

  "Ah yes, that I must see at once," agreed Miss de Silva.

  "I'm if it is not Concetta, Geoffrey must instantly go to find her."

  "Yes, of course," nodded Dinah, and shepherded her into the house. Geoffrey followed, bringing the silver fox stole.

  "The future Mrs. Billington-Smith," murmured Francis, taking a cigarette from his flat gold case.

  The General rounded on him. "Hold your tongue, sir!"

  "Of course, I think she's too marvellous!" said Camilla, giggling. "But I do utterly understand how you feel, Sir Arthur. I think it's terribly sweet of you to let him bring her."

  "He won't bring her a second time," said the General grimly. "Brazen, painted hussy! Cocktails! Fay, you'll kindly make that young woman understand that in this house my word is law! I don't want to have any unpleasantness, so I'm warning you! You asked her here, and I'll thank you to see that she conforms to the rules of the place. Now I don't want to hear another word on the subject, and I'm sure your guests don't either. Come, Camilla, let me take you round the gardens: the roses are at their best, I flatter myself."

  Once inside the house Dinah tried to explain to Lola. At first Lola could not be brought to heed anything beyond the fact that Concetta had not yet arrived, but when it had been made plain to her that the train from London was not due at Ralton Station for another ten minutes, she consented to postpone Geoffrey's departure a little longer, and to go up to her bedroom with Dinah.

  "It is very well thought of," she approved. "Geoffrey has been very selfish to bring me in an open car which will not take my luggage, and perhaps I am untidy from the wind. I shall arrange myself, and Geoffrey shall bring my cocktail up to me. And there must not be any gin, Geoffrey, but absinthe, for gin is a thing that makes me completely sick."

  "I shouldn't think there's any absinthe in the house," said Dinah. "Still, I daresay Finch will think of something.

  I'll carry the fur, Geoffrey: you attend to the drink question. I wonder which room you're having, Miss de Silva? We'd better inspect."

  Happily there was a housemaid on the landing who had just finished unpacking Miss de Silva's advance baggage, and she was able to direct them. She eyed Lola with the envious admiration she accorded only to film stars, and when Dinah saw the results of her unpacking she was not surprised. The dressing-table was loaded with innumerable toilet jars, scent flagons, brushes, rouge-pots, and powder-bowls, all with opulent enamel fittings. A negligee, very like the one worn by Dawson's favourite star in her last film, was laid reverently over a chair, and in the big mahogany wardrobe was hanging an evening frock that might have come straight from Hollywood.

  "Oh, I'm sure she's on the films!" Dawson breathed to Mrs. Moxon in the kitchen. "You never saw anything to equal the dresses she's got. Oh, they're lovely, Mrs. Moxon! they are really! She's like Lupe Velez, that's who she's like. Oo, I wonder if it could be her, under an assumed name — you know how they do?"

  "Films!" snorted Mrs. Moxon, banging the rolling-pin on the board with unnecessary force. "She's one of them good-for-nothing cabaret girls, that's what she is. And when you've been in service a bit longer nor what you live, Joan Dawson, you'll have more sense than to go goggling at her sort. Get out of my way, do!"

  Upstairs in the sunny bedroom Miss de Silva had thrown the negligee on to the bed, tossed her hat after it, and sat herself down at the dressing-table, anxiously surveying her face in the mirror. "It is terrible!" she announced, and snatched the lid from one of the powder-bowls. "It is not polite to make a complaint, and I therefore I say nothing, for I have very good manners, I assure you, but it should not be permitted that a man should demand of anyone that they motor in an open car. Naturally there must be a wind. I am not unreasonable, and I do not expect there to be no wind, but Geoffrey should have a car which is not open and which will take Concetta as well."

  Dinah curled herself up on the window-seat, frankly enjoying Miss de Silva. "I know," she said sympathetically. "Men are so thoughtless, aren't they? I don't suppose he explained about his father either."

  "But no: you mistake," Lola corrected her. "It is all explained to me. He is of a type difficult to manage. That one sees."

  "Yes," said Dinah, "but — but I'm afraid Geoffrey's father is a little more than difficult."

  "There
is no need that I should disturb myself," replied Lola, attending carefully to her eyelashes. "I do not know where is Geoffrey, and why he does not bring me my cocktail?"

  There did not seem to be much hope of impressing upon Miss de Silva the need to deal tactfully with her host, so Dinah, never one to waste time in pursuing lost causes, abandoned the subject, and asked curiously: "Are you very fond of Geoffrey?"

  She was right in supposing that Lola would not in the least resent so personal a question. Lola replied with great promptitude: "Naturally, I love him extremely. I love very often, you understand, and always passionately. It is not so with the English, I find, for you have in general very cold hearts. It is not at all so with me. I have a very warm heart, very profound."

  A knock on the door interrupted her. Geoffrey appeared carrying a tray, with glasses and shaker on it. "I say, we shall have to keep this dark," he said. "Father would have a fit if he knew. Darling, I'm so frightfizlly sorry, but there's no absinthe."

  The look of rigidity which Dinah had noticed before instantly possessed Lola's face. "But it is to me incomprehensible that when you know that I wish absinthe in my cocktail you do not at once arrange it, my dear Geoffrey. Perhaps it is that you do not concern yourself with what I like, but only with what you like?"

  "It's sickeningly careless of me, sweetheart," Geoffrey apologised. "Of course I ought to have brought a bottle down with me, but when I get near you I clean forget everything else. Darling, do forgive me, and just taste this mixture. Finch made it, and he's sure you'll like it."

  "I do not know Finch, and it is not at all clear to me how it is that he can know what I like. I am quite unhappy, quite wounded that you can love me so little you wish to make me sick with gin."

  "There isn't a drop of gin in it, Lola. I swear there isn't! Of course I wouldn't give you gin. Good God, if anything happened to you through my fault I should be fit to shoot myself."

  "Well, I will taste your cocktail," Lola said, relenting, "Because I do not wish to make trouble, and I see that through the fault of your papa this house is not well-run. But when you have told him that I wish absinthe he will attend to it. Only you are to tell him with tact, my dear Geoffrey, for I do not desire him to feel uncomfortable."