Chapters (14)
I should like to think that we know each other well enough for you to believe me when I say that I hope you won’t dream of answering this all-too-inadequate attempt to tell you how sorry I am.
Yours sincerely,
Percival Pyke Period
The Austrian maid came in and found Connie still gazing at this letter.
‘Trudi,’ she said with an effort, ‘I’ve had a shock.’
‘Bitte?’
‘It doesn’t matter. I’m going out. I won’t be long.’
And she went out. She crossed the green and tramped up Mr Pyke Period’s drive to his front door.
The workmen were assembled in Green Lane.
Alfred opened the front door to her.
‘Alfred,’ she said, ‘what’s happened?’
‘Happened, miss?’
‘My brother. Is he –?’
‘Mr Cartell is not up yet, miss.’
She looked at him as if he had addressed her in an incomprehensible jargon.
‘He’s later than usual, miss,’ Alfred said. ‘Did you wish to speak to him?’
‘Hall-o. Connie! Good morning to you.’
It was Mr Pyke Period, as fresh as paint, but perhaps not quite as rubicund as usual. His manner was over-effusive.
Connie said: ‘P.P., for God’s sake what is all this? Your letter?’
Mr Period glanced at Alfred, who withdrew. He then, after a moment’s hesitation, took Connie’s hand in both of his.
‘Now, now!’ he said. ‘You mustn’t let this upset you, my dear.’
‘Are you mad!’
‘Connie!’ he faintly ejaculated. ‘What do you mean? Do you – do you know?’
‘I must sit down. I don’t feel well.’
She did so. Mr Period, his fingers to his lips, eyed her with dismay. He was about to speak when a shrill female ejaculation broke out in the direction of the servants’ quarters. It was followed by the rumble of men’s voices. Alfred reappeared, very white in the face.
‘Good God!’ Mr Period said. ‘What now?’
Alfred, standing behind Connie Cartell, looked his employer in the eyes and said: ‘May I speak to you, sir?’ He made a slight warning gesture and opened the library door.
‘Forgive me, Connie. I won’t be a moment.’
Mr Period went into the library followed by Alfred, who shut the door.
‘Merciful heavens, Alfred, what’s the matter with you! Why do you look at me like that?’
‘Mr Cartell, sir,’ Alfred moistened his lips. ‘I, really, I scarcely know how to put it, sir. He’s, he’s –’
‘What are you trying to tell me? What’s happened?’
‘There’s been an accident, sir. The men have found him. He’s –’
Alfred turned towards the library window. Through the open gate in the quickset hedge, the workmen could be seen grouped together, stooping.
‘They found him,’ Alfred said, ‘not to put too fine a point on it, sir – in the ditch. I’m very sorry, I’m sure, sir, but I’m afraid he’s dead.’