‘I even tried to put the wind up her.’
‘What d’you mean?’ asked his sister sharply.
‘Told her she was going about it the right way to get bumped off. After all she can’t take the dibs to heaven with her. Why not loosen up a bit?’
‘Charles, you are a fool!’
‘No, I’m not. I’m a bit of a psychologist in my way. It’s never a bit of good sucking up to the old girl. She much prefers you to stand up to her. And after all, I was only talking sense. We get the money when she dies—she might just as well part with a little beforehand! Otherwise the temptation to help her out of the way might become overwhelming.’
‘Did she see your point?’ asked Theresa, her delicate mouth curling up scornfully.
‘I’m not sure. She didn’t admit it. Just thanked me rather nastily for my advice and said she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. “Well,” I said, “I’ve warned you.” “I’ll remember it,” she said.’
Theresa said angrily:
‘Really, Charles, you are an utter fool.’
‘Damn it all, Theresa, I was a bit ratty myself! The old girl’s rolling—simply rolling. I bet she doesn’t spend a tenth part of her income—what has she got to spend it on, anyway? And here we are—young, able to enjoy life—and to spite us she’s capable of living to a hundred… I want my fun now… So do you…’
Theresa nodded.
She said in a low, breathless voice:
‘They don’t understand—old people don’t…they can’t… They don’t know what it is to live!’
Brother and sister were silent for some minutes.
Charles got up.
‘Well, my love, I wish you better success than I’ve had. But I rather doubt it.’
Theresa said:
‘I’m rather counting on Rex to do the trick. If I can make old Emily realize how brilliant he is, and how it matters terrifically that he should have his chance and not have to sink into a rut as a general practitioner… Oh, Charles, a few thousand of capital just at this minute would make all the difference in the world to our lives!’
‘Hope you get it, but I don’t think you will. You’ve got through a bit too much capital in riotous living in your time. I say, Theresa, you don’t think the dreary Bella or the dubious Tanios will get anything, do you?’
‘I don’t see that money would be any good to Bella. She goes about looking like a rag-bag and her tastes are purely domestic.’
‘Oh, well,’ said Charles, vaguely. ‘I expect she wants things for those unprepossessing children of hers, schools, and plates for their front teeth and music lessons. And anyway it isn’t Bella—it’s Tanios. I bet he’s got a nose for money all right! Trust a Greek for that. You know he’s got through most of Bella’s? Speculated with it and lost it all.’
‘Do you think he’ll get something out of old Emily?’
‘He won’t if I can prevent him,’ said Charles, grimly.
He left the room and wandered downstairs. Bob was in the hall. He fussed up to Charles agreeably. Dogs liked Charles.
He ran towards the drawing-room door and looked back at Charles.
‘What’s the matter?’ said Charles, strolling after him.
Bob hurried into the drawing-room and sat down expectantly by a small bureau.
Charles strolled over to him.
‘What’s it all about?’
Bob wagged his tail, looked hard at the drawers of the bureau and uttered an appealing squeak.
‘Want something that’s in here?’
Charles pulled open the top drawer. His eyebrows rose.
‘Dear, dear,’ he said.
At one side of the drawer was a little pile of treasury notes.
Charles picked up the bundle and counted them. With a grin he removed three one pound notes and two ten shilling ones and put them in his pocket. He replaced the rest of the notes carefully in the drawer where he had found them.
‘That was a good idea, Bob,’ he said. ‘Your Uncle Charles will be able at any rate to cover expenses. A little ready cash always comes in handy.’
Bob uttered a faint reproachful bark as Charles shut the drawer.
‘Sorry old man,’ Charles apologized. He opened the next drawer. Bob’s ball was in the corner of it. He took it out.
‘Here you are. Enjoy yourself with it.’ Bob caught the ball, trotted out of the room and presently bump, bump, bump, was heard down the stairs.
Charles strolled out into the garden. It was a fine sunny morning with a scent of lilac.
Miss Arundell had Dr Tanios by her side. He was speaking of the advantage of an English education—a good education—for children and how deeply he regretted that he could not afford such a luxury for his own children.
Charles smiled with satisfied malice. He joined in the conversation in a light-hearted manner, turning it adroitly into entirely different channels.
Emily Arundell smiled at him quite amiably. He even fancied that she was amused by his tactics and was subtly encouraging them.
Charles’ spirits rose. Perhaps, after all, before he left—
Charles was an incurable optimist.
Dr Donaldson called for Theresa in his car that afternoon and drove her to Worthem Abbey, one of the local beauty spots. They wandered away from the Abbey itself into the woods.
There Rex Donaldson told Theresa at length about his theories and some of his recent experiments. She understood very little but listened in a spellbound manner, thinking to herself:
‘How clever Rex is—and how absolutely adorable!’
Her fiancé paused once and said rather doubtfully:
‘I’m afraid this is dull stuff for you, Theresa.’
‘Darling, it’s too thrilling,’ said Theresa, firmly. ‘Go on. You take some of the blood of the infected rabbit—?’
Presently Theresa said with a sigh:
‘Your work means a terrible lot to you, my sweet.’
‘Naturally,’ said Dr Donaldson.
It did not seem at all natural to Theresa. Very few of her friends did any work at all, and if they did they made extremely heavy weather about it.
She thought as she had thought once or twice before, how singularly unsuitable it was that she should have fallen in love with Rex Donaldson. Why did these things, these ludicrous and amazing madnesses, happen to one? A profitless question. This had happened to her.
She frowned, wondered at herself. Her crowd had been so gay—so cynical. Love affairs were necessary to life, of course, but why take them seriously? One loved and passed on.
But this feeling of hers for Rex Donaldson was different, it went deeper. She felt instinctively that here there would be no passing on… Her need of him was simple and profound. Everything about him fascinated her. His calmness and detachment, so different from her own hectic, grasping life, the clear, logical coldness of his scientific mind, and something else, imperfectly understood, a secret force in the man masked by his unassuming slightly pedantic manner, but which she nevertheless felt and sensed instinctively.
In Rex Donaldson there was genius—and the