“Good. Let’s go and feed the ducks.”

II

“Ha,” cried Patrick dramatically, as the party took their places round the dining room table. “What do I see before me? Delicious Death.”

“Hush,” said Miss Blacklock. “Don’t let Mitzi hear you. She objects to your name for her cake very much.”

“Nevertheless, Delicious Death it is! Is it Bunny’s birthday cake?”

“Yes, it is,” said Miss Bunner. “I really am having the most wonderful birthday.”

Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and had been ever since Colonel Easterbrook had handed her a small box of sweets and declaimed with a bow, “Sweets to the Sweet!”

Julia had turned her head away hurriedly, and had been frowned at by Miss Blacklock.

Full justice was done to the good things on the tea table and they rose from their seats after a round of crackers.

“I feel slightly sick,” said Julia. “It’s that cake. I remember I felt just the same last time.”

“It’s worth it,” said Patrick.

“These foreigners certainly understand confectionery,” said Miss Hinchcliffe. “What they can’t make is a plain boiled pudding.”

Everybody was respectfully silent, though it seemed to be hovering on Patrick’s lips to ask if anyone really wanted a plain boiled pudding.

“Got a new gardener?” asked Miss Hinchcliffe of Miss Blacklock as they returned to the drawing room.

“No, why?”

“Saw a man snooping round the henhouse. Quite a decent-looking Army type.”

“Oh, that,” said Julia. “That’s our detective.”

Mrs. Easterbrook dropped her handbag.

“Detective?” she exclaimed. “But—but—why?”

“I don’t know,” said Julia. “He prowls about and keeps an eye on the house. He’s protecting Aunt Letty, I suppose.”

“Absolute nonsense,” said Miss Blacklock. “I can protect myself, thank you.”

“But surely it’s all over now,” cried Mrs. Easterbrook. “Though I meant to ask you, why did they adjourn the inquest?”

“Police aren’t satisfied,” said her husband. “That’s what that means.”

“But aren’t satisfied of what?”

Colonel Easterbrook shook his head with the air of a man who could say a good deal more if he chose. Edmund Swettenham, who disliked the Colonel, said, “The truth of it is, we’re all under suspicion.”

“But suspicion of what?” repeated Mrs. Easterbrook.

“Never mind, kitten,” said her husband.

“Loitering with intent,” said Edmund. “The intent being to commit murder upon the first opportunity.”

“Oh, don’t, please don’t, Mr. Swettenham.” Dora Bunner began to cry. “I’m sure nobody here could possibly want to kill dear, dear Letty.”

There was a moment of horrible embarrassment. Edmund turned scarlet, murmured, “Just a joke.” Phillipa suggested in a high clear voice that they might listen to the six o’clock news and the suggestion was received with enthusiastic assent.