Read Online Hand in Glove by Ngaio Marsh - Free Book Online

Andrew.”
    Mr. Cartell gave her one sharp glance and froze. “Indeed,” he said.
    “He tells me you won’t let him have his money.”
    “He will assume control of his inheritance at the appointed time, which is on the sixth of October next.”
    “He did explain, didn’t he, why he needs it now? About the Grantham Gallery for sale and wanting to buy it?”
    “He did. He also explained that he wishes to leave the Brigade in order to manage the Gallery.”
    “And go on with his own painting.”
    “Precisely. I cannot agree to anticipating his inheritance for these purposes.”
    “He’s gone into it very carefully and he’s not a baby or a fool. He’s twenty-four and extremely levelheaded.”
    “In this matter I cannot agree with you.”
    “Bimbo’s been into it, too. He’s prepared to put up some of the cash and go in as a partner.”
    “Indeed. I am surprised to learn he is in a position to do so.”
    She actually changed colour at this. There was a short silence, and then she said: “Harold, I ask you very seriously to let Andrew have his inheritance.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “You may remember,” she said, with no change of manner, “that when I do fight, it’s no holds barred.”
    “In common with most—”
    “Don’t say ‘with most of my delightful sex,’ Harold.”
    “One can always omit the adjective,” said Mr. Cartell.
    “Ah, well,” Désirée said pleasantly and stood up. “I can see there’s no future in sweet reasonableness. Are you enjoying life in P.P.’s stately cottage?”
    Mr. Cartell also rose. “It’s a satisfactory arrangement,” he said stiffly, “for me. I trust, for him.”
    “He won’t enjoy the Moppett-Leonard
crise
, will he? Poor P.P., such a darling as he is and such a Godalmighty snob. Does he know?”
    “Know what?” Mr. Cartell asked unguardedly.
    “About your niece and her burglar boyfriend?”
    Mr. Cartell turned scarlet and closed his eyes. “She is NOT,” he said in the trembling voice of extreme exasperation, “my niece.”
    “How do you know? I’ve always thought Connie might have popped her away to simmer, and then adopted her back, as you might say.”
    “That is a preposterous and possibly an actionable statement, Désirée. The girl — Mary Ralston — came from an extremely reputable adoption centre.”
    “Connie might have put her there.”
    “If you will forgive me, I’ll have a word with Noakes. I regret very much that I have troubled you.”
    “P.P. is dining with us. He and I are going to have a cozy old chum’s gossip before my treasure hunt party arrives.”
    Mr. Cartell said: “I am not susceptible to moral blackmail, Désirée. I shall not reconsider my decision about Andrew.”
    “Look,” Désirée said. “I fancy you know me well enough to realize that I’m not a sentimental woman.”
    “That,” said Mr. Cartell, “I fully concede. A woman who gives a large party on the day her brother’s death is announced—”
    “My dear Hal, you know you looked upon Ormsbury as a social scourge and so did I. By and large, I’m not madly fond of other people. But I am fond of Andrew. He’s my son and I like him very much indeed. You watch out for yourself, Harold. I’m on the warpath.”
    A motor horn sounded distantly. They both turned to the windows.
    “And here,” Désirée said, “are your friends. I expect you want to go to meet them. Good-bye.”
    When Mr. Cartell had left her, she moved into the French window and, unlike Moppett, very openly watched the scene outside.
    The Scorpion came up the drive at a great pace, but checked abruptly. Then it moved on at a more decorous speed and pulled up. Leonard and Moppett got out simultaneously. Sergeant Noakes advanced and so did they, all smiles and readiness, but with the faintest suggestion of self-consciousness, Désirée considered, in their joints. It’s people’s elbows, she reflected, that give them away.
    They approached the group of three. Moppett, with