Inspector Furnival's Most Mysterious Cases. Annie Haynes

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      "You are always more than kind," Lady Palmer said gratefully as she sank into one of the big easy chairs by the window, and motioned him to the other.

      She had left the Wiltons rather suddenly in the end, summoned up to town to a conference with her lawyers, and, since interviews seemed inevitable, she had decided to take a suite of rooms at the Imperial Hotel for a week or two until matters were more settled. An urgent appeal from her for personal help had coincided with a growing restlessness on Sir Anthony's part, and he had hurried up to town for a week-end, on the pretext of giving her counsel.

      As he sat there, however, his thoughts were not with Lady Palmer, and the thousand and one airs and graces she was assuming for his benefit, they were back at Heron's Carew with Judith.

      He could not but be aware that, as far as anything she had yet related, there seemed but scant need for Sybil to have summoned him to London, but she spoke as if an interview with her lawyer were imperative.

      He had been there perhaps half an hour when the door of the outer room sprang open, and voices became audible outside. Lady Palmer sprang to her feet.

      "I told them that I was not at home, that I could not see anyone. Oh"—after listening a moment—"I had quite forgotten. It is Charlotte. She did speak of coming in, and I did not stop her, for I knew it would be such a pleasure to her to see you again. And, really, she has such a head for business—so unlike poor little me."

      Surely never two sisters were more unlike, Mrs. Dawson was tall, sinuous-looking, with a complexion so dark as to suggest a mixture of foreign blood, and curious light eyes that contrasted oddly with her black hair and swarthy skin.

      She came into the room now with her graceful languid air, and to Sir Anthony's annoyance he saw that she was followed by another visitor, a middle-aged woman with a pleasant rosy face, which somehow gave him a strange sense of familiarity.

      Mrs. Dawson kissed her sister affectionately. "I have only a few minutes to spare, Sybil, for I am on my way to a meeting at the St. Clery Nertells'. Mrs. Rankin is going with me, so I brought her in. You remember her, don't you? But who is this?" gazing at Sir Anthony with wide-open eyes. "Not—surely not—Anthony Carew?"

      "Am I so much altered?" Carew asked, smiling in spite of himself. "I should have known you anywhere, Charlotte."

      "Well, I don't know," Mrs. Dawson replied, sitting down and looking at him. "You are older of course, we all are," with an affected little laugh. "But you look troubled, worried—your very eyes are altered—anxious."

      "An active imagination," Sir Anthony laughed. "What should I have to worry me?"

      "Indeed, I don't know," Mrs. Dawson answered with a little sigh, as if giving up the subject. "You have everything a man can have, it seems to me—a beautiful home, a large income, a lovely wife. Oh, how strange that you should be here to-day, and that I should happen to bring Mrs. Rankin in."

      "Why strange?" Sir Anthony inquired in his leisurely fashion.

      Mrs. Dawson looked a little embarrassed.

      "Oh, it is only that Mrs. Rankin is an old friend of your wife's. But perhaps I ought not to have spoken," as Sir Anthony looked surprised, and a decided shade of annoyance crossed Mrs. Rankin's pleasant face.

      "A friend of my wife's," Sir Anthony repeated in a puzzled tone, then his face cleared. "Why, that is how it is your face seemed familiar to me directly I saw it. I have seen your photograph in Judith's album. Of course; now I remember, my wife was with you before she came to Heron's Carew, wasn't she?"

      Mrs. Rankin's pleasant comely face was still darkened by vexation. She made an obvious effort to respond to Sir Anthony's smile.

      "Yes, Lady Carew was with us for two years; we were all exceedingly fond of her," she said, a certain reserve apparent in her tone.

      "I am sure you must have been," Lady Palmer chimed in. "I assure you when your daughter found that Lady Carew was ill; and unable to give away the prizes at the Wembley Show, she was so frightfully disappointed that I had hard work to console her."

      "What?" Sir Anthony looked across in some surprise. "Is it possible that Miss Rankin was at Wembley Show? Why didn't she come over to Heron's Carew? I am sure my wife would have been delighted to see her."

      "Silly child, so I told her," Lady Palmer agreed.

      "Oh, Sophie was not in the neighbourhood very long," Mrs. Rankin said hurriedly. "She stayed for a few days at Marchfield Vicarage with the Canon's sister, but I know she had a good many engagements. I dare say she had no time to get over to Heron's Carew, kind of you as it is to think of it, Sir Anthony. Another time perhaps—"

      "Another time she must certainly come," Sir Anthony said decidedly. "You must let us know when she is in the neighbourhood, please, Mrs. Rankin."

      "Thank you, you are very kind," Mrs. Rankin returned in a distinctly non-committal tone.

      "Oh, dear Mrs. Rankin, I don't think it was altogether want of time," Lady Palmer said plaintively. "I gathered from Miss Rankin that you had told her she was not to go to Heron's Carew unless Judith spoke to her first, or something of that sort. That was why the poor child was so disappointed not to see her at the show."

      It did not escape Lady Palmer's eyes that as she spoke one of Mrs. Rankin's black-gloved hands suddenly tightened itself upon the arm of her chair, that there was a certain momentary compression of her lips.

      She did not answer for a moment then she looked at Sir Anthony, a lurking shadow in her blue eyes, though her lips were smiling. "As you have said so much, Lady Palmer, I think I must explain. To tell the truth, though perhaps I ought not to say it, we have felt a little hurt, both Canon Rankin and myself, that Lady Carew has taken absolutely no notice of us since her marriage. I would not have Sophie thrusting herself upon her, and therefore I told Mrs. May that, much as Sophie might wish it, I would rather she did not go over."

      Sir Anthony looked embarrassed. "I am sure there is some mistake, probably a letter has miscarried, or Judith may have called, and your servants may have forgotten to tell you. In any case I am sure Judith would never forget her old friends; it would not be like her. I have always heard her speak of your family in terms of warm affection, and I am sure she will be delighted to hear I have met you, and will look forward to renewing your acquaintance."

      "You are very kind. I think myself it is probable that there is some mistake," Mrs. Rankin returned. There was a slight relaxing of her features, she drew a tiny breath of relief, and put her handkerchief to her lips for a moment, as Sir Anthony turned to speak to Mrs. Dawson.

      Lady Palmer crossed over and took the chair next Mrs. Rankin, her soft black gown falling in graceful folds round her slim figure. "I want your girl to dine with me one day this week," she began in her sweet caressing tone. "I have a young cousin in town, and though of course I can't do any real entertaining just now I thought I might give the two a little dinner, and perhaps some music afterwards. Your girl sings, doesn't she?"

      "In an amateurish way; still, it is useful in the parish sometimes," Mrs. Rankin replied.

      Lady Palmer's eyes watched her from beneath their lids. What was it the woman was afraid of, she asked herself. What brought that look of being on the defensive on her face directly Judith's name was mentioned? Why did she turn pale and shiver when Sir Anthony was speaking to her?

      She leaned forward a little СКАЧАТЬ