No Wind of Blame

‘Where’s Maurice?’ Mary demanded, unheeding.

‘Oh, he went away! He didn’t seem to me to have the party spirit at all. Probably Alexis has trodden him down, like Keats, or someone.’

Mary sighed. ‘I suppose you mean by that that he saw how serious the whole situation is.’

‘We all see that,’ said Hugh.

‘Well, you seem to be getting a good deal of amusement out of it.’

‘Sorry! You shouldn’t have loosed Vicky on to me.’

‘I’m glad you find her so funny. I don’t,’ said Mary, walking to the staircase.

Hugh watched her till she was out of sight, and then took Vicky by the elbow, and gave her an admonitory shake. ‘Look here, my little ray of sunshine, you’re getting on Mary’s nerves! I know you think Carter’s death a blessing imperfectly disguised, but it’s just conceivable that Mary doesn’t. After all, he was her cousin. You’ve got to behave yourself.’

‘I am behaving myself !’ said Vicky indignantly. ‘Why, I even gave up the idea of being mysterious with the Inspector, just because I thought Mary mightn’t like it! I’ve been polite to you, too, which takes a lot of doing, I can tell you!’

‘Vicky, you little beast, if I see much more of you I shall end by wringing your neck!’ said Hugh.

‘If Peake’s listening, you’ll be sorry you said that,’ remarked Vicky. ‘’Specially if my body is found lying about the place tomorrow. Are you staying to lunch?’

‘No, I must get back. Don’t spread that story of Alan White’s about, by the way!’

When he had left the house, Vicky went upstairs, and presently wandered into Mary’s bedroom. ‘Are you feeling jaded, darling Mary?’

‘Extremely jaded.’

‘Poor sweet! All the same, I do truly think you make yourself worse through not looking on the bright side. Quite honestly, do you mind Wally’s being dead?’

‘Of course I—’ Mary stopped short, under the clear gaze bent upon her. ‘That is, I suppose I don’t. Yes, I do, a bit, though. Anyway, I can’t bear the thought of his having been murdered.’

‘No, I’m not frightfully partial to it myself,’ agreed Vicky. ‘That’s why I don’t dwell on it.’

‘Yes, you do. You keep on wondering who could have killed him, and it seems to me dreadful!’

‘Well, so do you,’ said Vicky. ‘Which reminds me that something rather disgruntling happened after that mouldy Inquest. Janet went and queered Robert’s pitch, by divulging that he knew all along Wally was going to tea at the Dower House, so I’m rather afraid the Inspector may try to pin the murder on to him.’

‘No!’ Mary exclaimed, startled. ‘Robert did know?’

‘So Janet said. Of course, I always did think he might have done it, only if so I’d rather he got away with it, on account of Ermyntrude. That was why I tried to put the Inspector on to Alexis.’

‘But you can’t! You mustn’t! If Robert – but I won’t believe it! If he did, it would be absolutely wicked to try to make the police suspect the Prince instead!’

‘Oh no, really it wouldn’t! Because Robert’s much nicer than Alexis, who was after poor Ermyntrude’s money, and I dare say has a perfectly revolting past, which Robert hasn’t in the least. And if Robert did murder Wally, he probably thought it was the right thing to do. Why was Maurice so peevish?’

‘He wasn’t. Naturally, he must be rather worried about all this, for Aunt Ermy’s sake.’

Vicky opened her eyes at that. ‘But she isn’t ill, is she?’

‘No, but I’ve always fancied that he was very fond of her,’ Mary said.

‘Darling, you don’t suppose he’s in love with her, do you?’

‘No, no, of course I don’t! Only he did say that she’d been very good to him once, or something.’

‘Oh, that must have been on account of his sister! He used to have one, only she died, and I believe Ermyntrude did rather succour her; only it all happened in the Dark Ages, when I was small, so I don’t really know. I wouldn’t wonder if Maurice thinks Robert did it.’

‘Why? Surely he hasn’t said anything to you about it?’