Harold said dryly:

"This isn't the moment to quarrel with

229

the corruption of the public services.

How much ?"

"The tariff's rather high.55

She read out a list of figures.

The Chief of Police.

The Commissaire.

The Agent.

The Doctor.

The Hotel Manager.

The Night Porter.

Harold's comment was merely:

"The night porter doesn't get much,

does he ? I suppose it's mostly a question

of gold lace."

Mrs. Rice explained:

"The manager stipulated that the death

should not have taken place in his hotel

at all. The official story will be that Philip

had a heart attack in the train. He went

along the corridor for air — you know how

they always leave those doors open — and

he fell out on the line. It's wonderful what

the police can do when they try!5'

"Well," said Harold. "Thank God our

police force isn't like that."

And in a British and superior mood

he went down to lunch.

230

FR1;VII

After lunch Harold usually joined Mrs.

Rice and her daughter for coffee. He decided to make no change in his usual behaviour.

This was the first time he had seen

Elsie since the night before. She was very

pale and was obviously still suffering from

shock, but she made a gallant endeavour

to behave as usual, uttering small commonplaces

about the weather and the scenery.

They commented on a new guest who

had just arrived, trying to guess his

nationality. Harold thought a moustache

like that must be French--Elsie said

German--and Mrs. Rice thought he

might be Spanish.

There was no one else but themselves

on the terrace with the exception of the

two Polish ladies who were sitting at the

extreme end, both doing fancywork.

As always when he saw them, Harold

felt a queer shiver of apprehension pass

over him. Those still faces, those curved

beaks of noses, those long claw-like

hands. . . .

A page boy approached and told Mrs.

LOH16 231

Rice she was wanted. She rose and followed

him. At the entrance to the hotel they

saw her encounter a police official in full

uniform.

Elsie caught her breath.

"You don't think—anything's gone

wrong ?"

Harold reassured her quickly.

"Oh no, no, nothing of that kind."

But he himself knew a sudden pang

of fear.

He said:

"Your mother's been wonderful!"

"I know. Mother is a great fighter.

She'll never sit down under defeat."

Elsie shivered. "But it is all horrible,

isn't it ?"

"Now, don't dwell on it. It's all over

and done with."

Elsie said in a low voice:

"I can't forget that — that it was I who

killed him."

Harold said urgently:

"Don't think of it that way. It was an

accident. You know that really."

Her face grew a little happier. Harold

added:

"And anyway it's past. The past is

232

•r

the past. Try never to think of it again.55

Mrs. Rice came back. By the expression

on her face they saw that all was well.