Towards Zero - Agatha Christie [41]
As the meal drew to a close, Nevile said with elaborate casualness: “Think I shall go over to Easterhead after dinner and look up Latimer. We might have a game of billiards.”
“Take the latch key,” said Mary. “In case you’re back late.”
“Thanks, I will.”
They went into the drawing room, where coffee was served.
The turning on of the wireless and the news was a welcome diversion.
Kay, who had been yawning ostentatiously ever since dinner, said she would go up to bed. She had a headache, she said.
“Have you got any aspirin?” asked Mary.
“Yes, thank you.”
Kay left the room.
Nevile turned the wireless on to a programme with music. He sat silent on the sofa for some time. He did not look once at Audrey, but sat huddled up looking like an unhappy little boy. Against her will, Mary felt quite sorry for him.
“Well,” he said, at last rousing himself, “better be off if I’m going.”
“Are you taking your car or going by ferry?”
“Oh, ferry. No sense in going a round of fifteen miles. I shall enjoy a bit of a walk.”
“It’s raining, you know.”
“I know. I’ve got a Burberry.” He went towards the door.
“Goodnight.”
In the hall, Hurstall came to him.
“If you please, sir, will you go up to Lady Tressilian? She wants to see you specially.”
Nevile glanced at the clock. It was already ten o’clock.
He shrugged his shoulders and went upstairs and along the corridor to Lady Tressilian’s room and tapped on the door. While he waited for her to say Come in, he heard the voices of the others in the hall down below. Everybody was going to bed early tonight, it seemed.
“Come in,” said Lady Tressilian’s clear voice.
Nevile went in, shutting the door behind him.
Lady Tressilian was all ready for the night. All the lights were extinguished except one reading lamp by her bed. She had been reading, but she now laid down the book. She looked at Nevile over the top of her spectacles. It was, somehow, a formidable glance.
“I want to speak to you, Nevile,” she said.
In spite of himself, Nevile smiled faintly.
“Yes, Headmaster,” he said.
Lady Tressilian did not smile.
“There are certain things, Nevile, that I will not permit in my house. I have no wish to listen to anybody’s private conversations, but if you and your wife insist on shouting at each other exactly under my bedroom windows, I can hardly fail to hear what you say. I gather that you were outlining a plan whereby Kay was to divorce you and in due course you would remarry Audrey. That, Nevile, is a thing you simply cannot do and I will not hear of it for a moment.”
Nevile seemed to be making an effort to control his temper.
“I apologize for the scene,” he said, shortly. “As for the rest of what you say, surely that is my business!”
“No, it is not. You have used my house in order to get into touch with Audrey—or else Audrey has used it—”
“She has done nothing of the sort. She—”
Lady Tressilian stopped him with upraised hand.
“Anyway, you can’t do this thing, Nevile. Kay is your wife. She has certain rights of which you cannot deprive her. In this matter I am entirely on Kay’s side. You have made your bed and must lie upon it. Your duty now is to Kay and I’m telling you so plainly—”
Nevile took a step forward. His voice rose:
“This is nothing whatever to do with you—”
“What is more,” Lady Tressilian swept on, regardless of his protest. “Audrey leaves this house tomorrow—”
“You can’t do that! I won’t stand for it—”
“Don’t shout at me, Nevile.”
“I tell you I won’t have it—”
Somewhere along the passage a door shut….
XII
Alice Bentham, the gooseberry-eyed housemaid, came to Mrs. Spicer, the cook, in some perturbation.
“Oh, Mrs. Spicer, I don’t rightly know what I ought to do.”
“What’s the matter, Alice?”
“It’s Miss Barrett. I took her in her cup of tea over an hour ago. Fast asleep she was and never woke up, but I didn’t like to do much. And then, five minutes ago, I went in again because she hadn’t come down and her ladyship’s tea all ready and waiting for her to take in. So I went in again and she’s sleeping ever so—I can’t stir her.”
“Have you shaken her?”
“Yes,