Read Online Grey Mask by Patricia Wentworth - Free Book Online
Authors: Patricia Wentworth
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Nora Canning—now let me see, was it Nora? Or is Nora the married one, and am I thinking of Nancy? Or is it Nancy who is the married one? And who the deuce did she marry? It wasn’t Monty Soames, and it wasn’t Rex Fossiter. Now who was it she married? I know I was at the wedding, because I remember they gave us deuced bad champagne—and Esther couldn’t go, but Margaret and I went—” He broke off, and looked down like a shy child. “You’ve heard about Esther?”
Charles felt horribly sorry for him.
“Yes, I—I heard. I can’t say how sorry I am. She—there was something about her.”
Freddy wrung his hand.
“I know, my boy, I know. No one like her—was there? Can’t think what she ever saw in me. Well, well, I’m glad to see you back, Charles. She always liked you very much. I’d be sorry to think there was any sort of feeling now you’ve come back.”
“Oh, there isn’t.”
“Bygones be bygones, eh? That’s right! Stupid to keep things up—that’s what I’ve always said—what’s the sense of keeping things up? I’ve always said that. I remember now saying that twenty years ago to Fennicker—no, if it was Fennicker it couldn’t have been twenty years ago, because that Fennicker was in China until 1914, unless I’m thinking of the other one—their mothers married cousins you know—deuced pretty women both of them—lovely shoulders. Women don’t have shoulders now, eh? Nothing but bones—that’s what I say—scraggy, my boy—and it don’t make them look any younger—”
“What about Margaret’s address?” said Charles quickly. If he had to wait whilst Freddy disentangled the Fennickers for a few generations or so, he would do so; but there seemed to be just a chance of escape; Archie was punching him in the ribs. “What about Margaret’s address?”
“I thought she might have stayed with me,” said Freddy. “But I don’t want you to think we quarrelled—I shouldn’t like anyone to think that.”
“Can you give me her address?”
It took Charles another ten minutes to get it, and Archie had reached groaning point before they finally got away.
They walked the short distance to the show Archie had insisted upon. The fog was still heavy. Charles found himself thinking curiously and angrily about Margaret. Where was she? What was she thinking? What was she doing? He had a furious desire to know, to break away from Archie and to walk to the address which Freddy Pelham had given him.
At intervals during the evening that desire to know what Margaret was doing swept over him again. If he could have looked into Margaret’s room, he would have seen nothing, because the room was dark. It was very dark and very cold, because there was no light and no fire.
Margaret Langton lay face downwards in front of the cold hearth; her forehead rested upon her crossed arms. The fire had gone out a long time ago. It was hours since she had moved at all, but the hot, slow tears went on soaking into the black stuff of her sleeve. Her right arm was crossed over her left arm; her forehead rested upon it. The stuff of her sleeve was quite wet through.
CHAPTER XI
Charles sat in Miss Maud Silver’s waiting-room. He was not one of those who wait patiently. Having arrived at ten o’clock, he was exasperated to find that he was not the first upon the scene; a murmur of female voices stimulated his annoyance. “Probably talking millinery,” was his embittered comment.
Then all of a sudden through the thin partition came a sharp little cry of “I can’t!” The cry had a quality which did not suggest millinery. There was a silence; and then the murmur of voices went on again.
It was almost half past ten before the inner door opened and a woman came out. She kept her head turned away and passed quickly out on to the landing.
Charles entered Miss Silver’s office with a good deal of curiosity, and found himself in a small, light room, very bare—furnished, to the first glance at any
Charles felt horribly sorry for him.
“Yes, I—I heard. I can’t say how sorry I am. She—there was something about her.”
Freddy wrung his hand.
“I know, my boy, I know. No one like her—was there? Can’t think what she ever saw in me. Well, well, I’m glad to see you back, Charles. She always liked you very much. I’d be sorry to think there was any sort of feeling now you’ve come back.”
“Oh, there isn’t.”
“Bygones be bygones, eh? That’s right! Stupid to keep things up—that’s what I’ve always said—what’s the sense of keeping things up? I’ve always said that. I remember now saying that twenty years ago to Fennicker—no, if it was Fennicker it couldn’t have been twenty years ago, because that Fennicker was in China until 1914, unless I’m thinking of the other one—their mothers married cousins you know—deuced pretty women both of them—lovely shoulders. Women don’t have shoulders now, eh? Nothing but bones—that’s what I say—scraggy, my boy—and it don’t make them look any younger—”
“What about Margaret’s address?” said Charles quickly. If he had to wait whilst Freddy disentangled the Fennickers for a few generations or so, he would do so; but there seemed to be just a chance of escape; Archie was punching him in the ribs. “What about Margaret’s address?”
“I thought she might have stayed with me,” said Freddy. “But I don’t want you to think we quarrelled—I shouldn’t like anyone to think that.”
“Can you give me her address?”
It took Charles another ten minutes to get it, and Archie had reached groaning point before they finally got away.
They walked the short distance to the show Archie had insisted upon. The fog was still heavy. Charles found himself thinking curiously and angrily about Margaret. Where was she? What was she thinking? What was she doing? He had a furious desire to know, to break away from Archie and to walk to the address which Freddy Pelham had given him.
At intervals during the evening that desire to know what Margaret was doing swept over him again. If he could have looked into Margaret’s room, he would have seen nothing, because the room was dark. It was very dark and very cold, because there was no light and no fire.
Margaret Langton lay face downwards in front of the cold hearth; her forehead rested upon her crossed arms. The fire had gone out a long time ago. It was hours since she had moved at all, but the hot, slow tears went on soaking into the black stuff of her sleeve. Her right arm was crossed over her left arm; her forehead rested upon it. The stuff of her sleeve was quite wet through.
CHAPTER XI
Charles sat in Miss Maud Silver’s waiting-room. He was not one of those who wait patiently. Having arrived at ten o’clock, he was exasperated to find that he was not the first upon the scene; a murmur of female voices stimulated his annoyance. “Probably talking millinery,” was his embittered comment.
Then all of a sudden through the thin partition came a sharp little cry of “I can’t!” The cry had a quality which did not suggest millinery. There was a silence; and then the murmur of voices went on again.
It was almost half past ten before the inner door opened and a woman came out. She kept her head turned away and passed quickly out on to the landing.
Charles entered Miss Silver’s office with a good deal of curiosity, and found himself in a small, light room, very bare—furnished, to the first glance at any
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