Patricia Wentworth - Beggar’s Choice

She looked round at me, and I thought she was going to say something, but she didn’t. She went quickly out of the room and shut the door.

My uncle stared after her, angry and confused.

“Bless my soul! Married?” he said. “What? Married? What’s all this?” He jerked his shoulders back as if he was throwing something off. “Well, I wish him joy of her!”

It was whilst he was speaking that I saw there was some one else in the room. I very nearly jumped, because there was a sort of effect of his having appeared out of nothing. As a matter of fact, as soon as I had time to think, I realized that he had come in with my uncle. I hadn’t seen him, because he had been standing behind me. But Anna must have seen him. It struck me afterwards that that was why she didn’t say whatever it was she was going to say before she went out of the room.

Well, I looked at him and pulled myself together. He was a little man with thin, neat hair, sharpish gray eyes, and the sort of nose that is made for a pince-nez. The pince-nez sat neatly on the nose. He wore a natty gent’s suiting, and he took a very small size in black boots. I had never seen him before, but I knew him at once.

He put up his hand and fiddled with his pince-nez, and he said,

“Good morning, Mr. Fairfax.”

It was Z.10 Smith.

It was such a relief that I felt as if a ton of bricks had been suddenly lifted off me. The beastliest part of the whole beastly nightmare I had been wandering about in was the perfectly damnable idea that Z.10 was acting for Anna. I had never been able quite to shake it off. Z.10 here, with my uncle, meant something quite different. This all went through my head very quickly.

I said, “Good morning, Mr. Smith,” and my uncle stopped staring after Anna and slapped me on the back.

“Well,” he said-“well? So you recognize him-what? What did you think? Did you guess he came from-me what?”

“No, I didn’t,” I said. I was feeling a bit angry. “I wish I had!” I said.

My uncle broke into a shout of laughter.

“You weren’t meant to! No, no-not a bit of it! His name’s really Smith, you know-Smith and Wilkins, Enquiry Agents.”

He took me by the arm and walked me away to the other side of the room, dropping his voice till I could hardly hear what he said.

“Worried about you-began to think Anna’d been bamboozling me-found her out in a lie or two-makes you wonder whether it isn’t all lies-what?” He gripped my arm. “I missed you, my boy. We’ve both got tempers-runs in the family-said a lot of things that didn’t make it easy to climb down, both of us-what?”

I looked round and saw Z.10 vanishing discreetly. I heard the door close behind him. I don’t think my uncle noticed. He went on, still holding me tight and mumbling between embarrassment and discretion:

“Thought I’d find out how you were getting on-couldn’t do it myself-got him instead-Smith-Perkins recommended him-very efficient-what?-discreet-confidential-had to take him into my confidence a good deal-about Anna- what?”

“She knew,” I said.

“Yes-Smith said so-said she butted in-sent that fellow Markham ferreting round-kept the appointment Smith had made with you-” He broke into a half laugh and slapped my shoulder. “He saw her carry you off, and didn’t know what to make of it, by Jove!”

“How did she know?” I asked.

“Listened when I was telephoning. You don’t think of things like that-not with your own family-but that’s what she must have done-eavesdropped-opened letters too, I shouldn’t wonder!” He made a sound of disgust. “Who’s this fellow she’s married? He’ll be sorry for himself before he’s through-what?”

“Or she will,” I said.

My uncle looked up hopefully.

“What? Is he that sort? I hope he is-I hope he is!”

Then he let go of me and stepped back.

“You don’t bear me a grudge, do you-what? I didn’t think you did-not when you spoke about me.”

“When I spoke about you?”

He got very red.

“Perhaps it wasn’t altogether fair-not playing the game- what? But I wouldn’t have held it up against you if you’d grumbled a bit.”

I hadn’t the slightest idea what he was driving at.

He turned plum-color.

“The other night!” he said explosively. “Damn it! What was I to do-what? I wanted to see you-couldn’t think of any other way-wanted to know-what you felt about me-got my pride as well as you, you know.”

My mind was a complete blank. I suppose I looked as puzzled as I felt.

He made a sound like “Tch-h!” and blew out his cheeks.

“Back of the car,” he said-“what? The other night- Olding Crescent -what?”

I got there suddenly.

“You were in the back of the car the other night when I was talking to Z.10 Smith in Olding Crescent?”

He nodded and looked past me.

“What made you hit on Olding Crescent?” I said, partly to relieve his embarrassment, and partly because I wanted to know. I couldn’t remember just what I had said about him to Z.10, and I thought we’d better get off the subject.

He seemed relieved at my question.

“Good place-what? Lonely place-dark-no traffic- what?”

“What made you hit on it?”

He burst out laughing.

“Anna put me on to it-dined there with that Markham fellow, and I came down from my club and picked her up, and I thought to myself it was as lonely a place as you’d find within ten miles of town.” He stopped laughing rather suddenly. “She’s gone-and a good riddance. And now she’s gone, you-you’ll come back home-won’t you, my boy? The place wants looking after. Jenkins can’t keep up with it. He want to go and live with his married daughter in London. There’s no accounting for tastes-what?”

I supposed he was offering me the agent’s job, but he hadn’t said so. I thought it wasn’t any good beating about the bush, so I asked him straight out.

“What do you think?” he said. “I want you back. And there’s the job if you’ll take it-and the little Manor House by and by if you want to get married.”

I thought about Isobel. She had always wanted to live there, and I had said-I had said-that the only house we should ever have was a castle in the air. Things danced in front of my eyes, and I suppose I must have looked queer, for my uncle took me by the arm.

“Here-hold up!” he said. “What’s the matter?”

I said, “It’s-very good of you.”

He said, “Nonsense! Nonsense!” Then he let go of me and blew his nose violently. “You ought to have let me know. When Smith told me-” He blew his nose. “Such straits-no idea-you ought to have let me know-what? Damn proud young pup!” He blew his nose again.

I heard the door open, and walked away to the window, because I wasn’t just feeling like confronting William. It wasn’t William.

It was Isobel.

My uncle turned round with a grunt.

“I’m busy,” he said; and then he saw who it was and went to meet her.

She didn’t see me. I was up by the window, and the curtain screened me. She was looking so beautifully happy that I wondered what had happened. She took both my uncle’s hands and said,

“Don’t be busy for just a minute, Mr. Carthew, because I’ve come on purpose to tell you that Car and I are engaged.”

And then she kissed him-at least that’s what it looked like to me. She says he kissed her.

My uncle turned round and roared at the top of his voice,

“What? What? What’s all this? Car-I say-what? Engaged? Bless my soul! Come and kiss her yourself! What?”

I came.

Corinna Lee to Peter Lymington:

Peter Darling,

A great many things have been happening. When you get to the end of this letter you will know why I am calling you “darling.” If you don’t like it, you had better cable right away, the same as you did about not being married to that Fay creature. First of all, you needn’t get all puffed up about her being in love with you, because she never thought about you at all. She was just head over ears in love with Car Fairfax, and she said she was married to you so as to keep him right there looking after her, which he wouldn’t have done if he hadn’t thought you wanted him to. Crazy-isn’t it?