Dumb Witness - Agatha Christie [1]
Miss Arundell was saying:
“Now then, Minnie, where have you put them all?”
“Well, I thought—I hope I’ve done right—Dr. and Mrs. Tanios in the Oak room and Theresa in the Blue room and Mr. Charles in the Old Nursery—”
Miss Arundell interrupted:
“Theresa can have the Old Nursery and Charles will have the Blue room.”
“Oh, yes—I’m sorry—I thought the Old Nursery being rather more inconvenient—”
“It will do very nicely for Theresa.”
In Miss Arundell’s day, women took second place. Men were the important members of society.
“I’m so sorry the dear little children aren’t coming,” murmured Miss Lawson, sentimentally.
She loved children and was quite incapable of managing them.
“Four visitors will be quite enough,” said Miss Arundell. “In any case Bella spoils her children abominably. They never dream of doing what they are told.”
Minnie Lawson murmured:
“Mrs. Tanios is a very devoted mother.”
Miss Arundell said with grave approval:
“Bella is a good woman.”
Miss Lawson sighed and said:
“It must be very hard for her sometimes—living in an outlandish place like Smyrna.”
Emily Arundell replied:
“She has made her bed and she must lie on it.”
And having uttered this final Victorian pronouncement she went on:
“I am going to the village now to speak about the orders for the weekend.”
“Oh, Miss Arundell, do let me. I mean—”
“Nonsense. I prefer to go myself. Rogers needs a sharp word. The trouble with you is, Minnie, that you’re not emphatic enough. Bob! Bob! Where is the dog?”
A wirehaired terrier came tearing down the stairs. He circled round and round his mistress uttering short staccato barks of delight and expectation.
Together mistress and dog passed out of the front door and down the short path to the gate.
Miss Lawson stood in the doorway smiling rather foolishly after them, her mouth a little open. Behind her a voice said tartly:
“Them pillowcases you gave me, miss, isn’t a pair.”
“What? How stupid of me….”
Minnie Lawson plunged once more into household routine.
Emily Arundell, attended by Bob, made a royal progress down the main street of Market Basing.
It was very much of a royal progress. In each shop she entered the proprietor always hurried forward to attend to her.
She was Miss Arundell of Littlegreen House. She was “one of our oldest customers.” She was “one of the old school. Not many about like her nowadays.”
“Good morning, miss. What can I have the pleasure of doing for you—Not tender? Well, I’m sorry to hear that. I thought myself it was as nice a little saddle—Yes, of course, Miss Arundell. If you say so, it is so—No, indeed I wouldn’t think of sending Canterbury to you, Miss Arundell—Yes, I’ll see to it myself, Miss Arundell.”
Bob and Spot, the butcher’s dog, circled slowly round each other, hackles raised, growling gently. Spot was a stout dog of nondescript breed. He knew that he must not fight with customers’ dogs, but he permitted himself to tell them, by subtle indication, just exactly what mincemeat he would make of them were he free to do so.
Bob, a dog of spirit, replied in kind.
Emily Arundell said “Bob!” sharply and passed on.
In the greengrocer’s there was a meeting of heavenly bodies. Another old lady, spherical in outline, but equally distinguished by that air of royalty, said:
“Mornin’, Emily.”
“Good morning, Caroline.”
Caroline Peabody said:
“Expecting any of your young people down?”
“Yes, all of them. Theresa, Charles and Bella.”
“So Bella’s home, is she? Husband too?”
“Yes.”
It was a simple monosyllable, but underlying it was knowledge common to both ladies.
For Bella Biggs, Emily Arundell’s niece, had married a Greek. And Emily Arundell’s people, who were what is known as “all service people,” simply did not marry Greeks.
By way of being obscurely comforting (for of course such a matter could not be referred to openly) Miss Peabody said:
“Bella’s husband’s got brains. And charming manners!”
“His manners are delightful,” agreed Miss Arundell.
Moving out into the