Read Online Grave Mistake by Ngaio Marsh - Free Book Online

this cavalier manner of an employer but she preferred not to notice.
    “Oh well,” she generalized, “you’ve done everything you can, Mrs. Jim.” She hesitated for a moment and then said: “I’m going over there on Saturday.”
    After a fractional pause Mrs. Jim said: “Are you, Miss? That’s very kind of you, I’m sure,” and switched on the vacuum cleaner. “You’ll be able to see for yourself,” she shouted above the din.
    Verity nodded and returned to the study. “But what?” she wondered. “
What
shall I be able to see?”
     
    v
    Gideon’s super restaurant turned out to be within six miles of Greengages. It seemed to be some sort of club of which he was a member and was of an exalted character with every kind of discreet attention and very good food. Verity seldom lunched at this level and she enjoyed herself. For the first time she wondered what Gideon’s occupation in life might be. She also remembered that Prunella was something of a
partie
.
    At half-past two they arrived at Greengages. It was a converted Edwardian mansion approached by an avenue, sheltered by a stand of conifers and surrounded by ample lawns in which flower-beds had been cut like graves.
    There were a number of residents strolling about with visitors or sitting under brilliant umbrellas on exterior furnishers’ contraptions.
    “She does know we’re coming, doesnt she?” Verity asked. She had begun to feel apprehensive.
    “You and me, she knows,” said Prunella. “I didn’t mention Gideon. Actually.”
    “Oh, Prue!”
    “I thought you might sort of ease him in,” Prue whispered.
    “I really don’t think—”
    “Nor do I,” said Gideon. “Darling, why can’t we just—”
    “There she is!” cried Verity. “Over there beyond the calceolarias and lobelia under an orange brolly. She’s waving. She’s seen us.”
    “Godma V,
please
. Gideon and I’ll sit in the car and when you wave we’ll come. Please.”
    Verity thought: “I’ve eaten their astronomical luncheon and drunk their champagne so now I turn plug-ugly and refuse?”
    “All right,” she said, “but don’t blame me if it goes hay-wire.”
    She set off across the lawn.
    Nobody has invented a really satisfactory technique for the gradual approach of people who have already exchanged greetings from afar. Continue to grin while a grin dwindles into a grimace? Assume a sudden absorption in the surroundings? Make as if sunk in meditation? Break into a joyous earner? Shout? Whistle? Burst, even, into song?
    Verity tried none of these methods. She walked fast and when she got within hailing distance cried: “There you are!”
    Sybil had the advantage in so far as she wore enormous dark sunglasses. She waved and smiled and pointed, as if in mock astonishment or admiration at Verity and when she arrived extended her arms for an embrace.
    “Darling Verry!” she cried. “You’ve come after all.” She waved Verity into a canvas chair, seemed to gaze at her fixedly for an uneasy moment or two and then said with a change of voice: “Whose car’s that? Don’t tell me. It’s Gideon Markos’s. He’s driven you both over. You needn’t say anything. They’re engaged!”
    This, in a way, was a relief. Verity, for once, was pleased by Sybil’s prescience. “Well, yes,” she said, “they are. And honestly, Syb, there doesn’t seem to me to be anything against it.”
    “In that case,” said Sybil, all cordiality spent, “why are they going on like this? Skulking in the car and sending you to soften me up: If you call that the behaviour of a civilized young man! Prue would never be like that on her own initiative. He’s persuaded her.”
    “The boot’s on the other foot. He was all for tackling you himself.”
    “Cheek! Thick-skinned push. One knows where he got that from.”
    “Where?”
    “God knows.”
    “You’ve just said you do.”
    “Don’t quibble, darling,” said Sybil.
    “I can’t make out what, apart from instinctive