Page:The Strand Magazine (Volume 44).djvu/234

 had seen Edwin lunching at the Savoy with a creature."

"A what?"

"My aunt described her. Her hair was of a curious dull-bronze tint."

"Your aunt's?"

"The woman's. It was then that I began to suspect. How many women with dull-bronze hair does Edwin know?"

"Great Scot! Why ask me?"

I had got used to being treated as a sort of "Hey, Bill!" by Florence, but I was hanged if I was going to be expected to be an encyclopaedia as well.

"One," she said. "That appalling Darrell woman."

She drew a deep breath.

"Yesterday evening," she said, "I saw them together in a taximeter cab. They were obviously on their way to some theatre."

She fixed me with her eye.

"Reginald," she said, "you must go and see her the first thing to-morrow."

"What!" I cried. "Me? Why? Why me?"

"Because you are responsible for the whole affair. You introduced Percy to her. You suggested that she should come to Weeting. Go to her to-morrow and ascertain her intentions."

"But"

"The very first thing."

"But wouldn't it be better to collar Edwin and pump him?"

"I have made every endeavour to see Edwin, but he deliberately avoids me. His answers to my telegrams are wilfully evasive."

There was no doubt that Edwin had effected a thorough bolt. He was having quite the holiday. Two weeks in sunny London, what? And from what I'd seen of him, he seemed to be thriving on it. I didn't wonder Florence had got rather anxious. She'd have been more anxious if she had seen him when I did. He'd got a sort of "London is so bracing" look about him which meant a whole lot of trouble before he trotted back to the fold.

Well, I started off to interview Mrs. Darrell, and, believe me, I didn't half like the prospect. I think they ought to train the District Messengers to do this sort of thing.

I found her alone. The rush-hour of clients hadn't begun.

"How do you do, Mr. Pepper?" she said. "How nice of you to call."

Very friendly, and all that. It made the situation dashed difficult for a chap, if you see what I mean.

"I say, you know," I said. "What about it, don't you know?"

"I certainly don't," she said. "What ought I to know about what?"

"Well, about Edwin—Lord Weeting," I said. "How do we go?"

She smiled.

"Oh! So you're an ambassador, Mr. Pepper?"

"I feel more like a bally ass. But as a matter of fact I did come to see if I could find out how things were running. What's going to happen?"

"Are you consulting me professionally? If so, you must show me your hand. Or perhaps you would rather I show you mine?"

It was rather subtle, but I got on to it after a bit.

"Yes," I said, "I wish you would."

"Very well. Do you remember a conversation we had, Mr. Pepper, my last afternoon at Weeting? We came to the conclusion that I was rather a vindictive woman."

"By Jove! You're ragging old Edwin so as to score off Florence?"

She flushed a little.

"How very direct you are, Mr. Pepper! How do you know I'm not very fond of Lord Weeting? At any rate, I'm very sorry for him."

"He's such a chump."

"But he's improving every day. Have you seen him? You must notice the difference?"

"There is a difference."

"He only wanted taking out of himself. I think he found Lady Florence's influence a little oppressive sometimes."