Read Online The Mystery at Underwood House (An Angela Marchmont Mystery) by Clara Benson - Free Book Online Page A

matter?’
    ‘ Perhaps. Or perhaps not. I can’t say at the moment.’
    ‘ Well—’ he paused. ‘I think Don got there before me. Yes, I’m sure of it. I ran out of the library and he was already there.’
    ‘ What was he doing?’
    ‘ Just standing there, looking shocked and breathing hard. He was awfully white in the face—as was I, I should imagine.’
    ‘ Did you see anybody else? Upstairs, for example?’
    ‘ Don’t you think I should have mentioned it if I had? There was nobody. Everyone was downstairs at the time.’
    ‘ Apart from your cousin Susan. Louisa said she came out of her room and fainted when she saw what had happened.’
    ‘ Ah yes, I’d forgotten about her. Yes, she was upstairs.’
    ‘ Do you remember where John Haynes was?’
    ‘ Uncle John? No, I can’t say that I do. He was probably hiding away somewhere. He hates these family gatherings as much as the rest of us so he escapes to his study whenever he can.’
    ‘ Do you believe Winifred’s death was deliberate? I know your mother believes it was,’ went on Angela hurriedly, seeing him about to speak, ‘but what do you think?’
    Robin glanced round, as though making sure Ursula really had left the room.
    ‘ It looks odd in the light of what happened to my father,’ he admitted finally, ‘but really, I couldn’t tell you. I saw nothing suspicious.’
    ‘ And what about your Aunt Philippa?’
    ‘ I know Mother thinks she was poisoned, but she had heart trouble, so it was hardly a surprise when she died.’
    ‘ Do you remember anything about the events of that evening? You don’t remember what you had for dinner, for example?’
    ‘ Of course not. I can barely recall what I had for dinner a week ago. Surely you can’t expect me to remember a meal that I ate last year.’
    ‘ There was soup,’ said Ursula suddenly, making them jump. She had come back into the room so quietly that they had not heard her approach. ‘It was a mulligatawny. I am not fond of mulligatawny. That is how I remember it. What else we had I couldn’t say.’
    ‘ Lamb,’ said Robin, as though the memory had just struck him. ‘Of course, it was lamb. And a rather indifferent soufflé to follow.’
    ‘ How was the soup served?’ asked Angela.
    ‘ I don’t understand what you mean,’ said Ursula.
    ‘ I mean, did it arrive in a tureen or already served into separate dishes?’
    ‘ I don’t remember,’ said Ursula. Robin shook his head in agreement.
    ‘ Was coffee served afterwards?’
    ‘ I imagine so,’ replied Ursula.
    Angela tried again.
    ‘ Louisa said Philippa complained about the dinner. Do you remember that?’ she asked.
    ‘ Philippa was always complaining,’ said Ursula. ‘She was never happier than when finding fault with something. After a while, one tended to ignore it. To answer your question therefore—no, I do not remember her expressing discontent about that in particular, although that is not to say she did not.’
    ‘ And she went up to bed as normal? She did not mention feeling unwell?’
    ‘ No more than was usual,’ said Ursula. ‘She liked to make the most of her indisposition, you see. That was another thing it was easier to ignore. Otherwise one would have been dancing attendance on her from morning to night.’
    The sun streamed cheerfully into the room, as though inviting all those hiding inside to throw open the doors and run into the garden. Angela was starting to feel wearied by the oppressive atmosphere in the house and the unfriendliness of its inhabitants.
    ‘ I have just one more question,’ she said. ‘Do you recognize this?’
    She produced the photograph of the young woman. Robin glanced at it incuriously.
    ‘ No, not at all,’ he said.
    Ursula looked at it for a little longer, then handed it back to Angela with a shake of the head.
    ‘ I have never seen her before,’ she said. ‘Who is it?’
    ‘ That’s what I want to find out,’ said Angela. She rose. ‘Thank you for your help,’