Death in a White Tie. Ngaio Marsh
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Название: Death in a White Tie
Автор: Ngaio Marsh
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежные детективы
isbn: 9780007344451
isbn:
‘Why?’ asked Lord Robert.
‘Well, because, I mean, you know what I mean. They’ll be the most unspeakable curiosities. No doubt perfectly splendid but—’
‘But not in the same class with young men who contract debts of honour which they cannot meet and do the London season on their mother’s money?’
‘That’s not fair,’ cried Donald hotly.
‘Why?’ repeated Lord Robert.
‘I’ll bet you got into the same sort of jams when you were my age.’
‘You’re wrong,’ said Lord Robert mildly. ‘I did as many silly things as most young men of my day. But I did not contract debts that I was unable to settle. It seemed to me that sort of thing amounted to theft. I didn’t steal clothes from my tailor, drink from my hotel, or money from my friends.’
‘But I knew it would be all right in the end.’
‘You mean, you knew I’d pay?’
‘I’m not ungrateful,’ said Donald angrily.
‘My dear fellow, I don’t want you to be grateful.’
‘But I won’t go and stay in a deserted mausoleum of a Scotch house in the middle of the season. There’s—there’s Bridget.’
‘Lady Carrados’s gel? Is she fond of you?’
‘Yes.’
‘She seems a nice creature. You’re fortunate. Not one of these screeching rattles. She’ll wait for you.’
‘I won’t go.’
‘M’dear boy, I’m sorry, but you’ve no alternative.’
Donald’s face was white but two scarlet patches burned on his cheek-bones. His lips trembled. Suddenly he burst out violently.
‘You can keep your filthy money,’ he shouted. ‘By God, I’ll look after myself. I’ll borrow from someone who’s not a bloody complacent Edwardian relic and I’ll get a job and pay them back as I can.’
‘Jobs aren’t to be had for the asking. Come now—’
‘Oh, shut up!’ bawled Donald and flung out of the room.
Lord Robert stared at the door which his nephew had not neglected to slam. The room was very quiet. The fire settled down with a small whisper of ashes and Lord Robert’s clock ticked on the mantelpiece. It ticked very loudly. The plump figure, only half-lit by the lamp on the desk, was quite still, the head resting on the hand. Lord Robert sighed, a slight mournful sound. At last he pulled an envelope towards him and in his finicky writing addressed it to Captain Withers, Shackleton House, Leatherhead. Then he wrote a short note, folded a cheque into it and put them both in the envelope. He rang for his butler.
‘Has Mr Donald gone out?’
‘Yes, m’lord. He said he would not be returning.’
‘I see,’ said Lord Robert. ‘Thank you. Will you see that this letter is posted immediately?’
Lord Robert had sat on the blue sofa since two-fifteen but he was not tired of it. He enjoyed watching the patrons of music arriving and he amused himself with idle speculations on the subject of intellectual snobbishness. He also explored the blue sofa, sliding his hands cautiously over the surface of the seat and down between the seat and the arms. He had taken the precaution of leaving his gloves on a chair on the left of the sofa and a little behind it. A number of people came and spoke to him, among them Lady Carrados, who was looking tired.
‘You’re overdoing it, Evelyn,’ he told her. ‘You look charming—that’s a delightful gown, ain’t it?—but you’re too fragile, m’dear.’
‘I’m all right, Bunchy,’ she said. ‘You’ve got a nice way of telling a woman she’s getting older.’
‘No, I say! It wasn’t that. Matter of fact it rather suits you bein’ so fine-drawn, but you are too thin, you know. Where’s Bridgie?’
‘At a matinee.’
‘Evelyn, do you know if she sees anything of my nephew?’
‘Donald Potter? Yes. We’ve heard all about it, Bunchy.’
‘He’s written to his mother who no doubt is giving him money. I suppose you know he’s sharing rooms with some other feller?’
‘Yes. Bridgie sees him.’
‘Does Bridgie know where he is?’
‘I think so. She hasn’t told me.’
‘Is she fond of the boy, Evelyn?’
‘Yes.’
‘What do you think of him?’
‘I know. He’s got a lot of charm, but I wish he’d settle down.’
‘Is it botherin’ you much?’
‘That?’ She caught her breath. ‘A little, naturally. Oh, there’s Lady Alleyn! We’re supposed to be together.’
‘Delightful woman, ain’t she? I’m waiting for Mrs Halcut-Hackett.’
‘I shouldn’t have thought her quite your cup of tea, said Lady Carrados vaguely.
Lord Robert made his rabbit-face and winked.
‘We go into mutual raptures over Bach,’ he said.
‘I must join Lady Alleyn. Good-bye, Bunchy.’
‘Good-bye, Evelyn. Don’t worry too much—over anything.’
She gave him a startled look and went away. Lord Robert sat down again. The room was nearly full and in ten minutes the Sirmione Quartette would appear on the modern dais.
‘Is she waiting for the lights to go down?’ wondered Lord Robert. He saw Agatha Troy come in, tried to catch her eye, and failed. People were beginning to settle down in the rows of gilt chairs and in the odd armchairs and sofas round the walls. Lord Robert looked restlessly towards the door and saw Sir Daniel Davidson. Davidson made straight for him. Sir Daniel had once cured Lord Robert’s sister of indigestion and Mildred, who was an emotional woman, had asked him to dinner. Lord Robert had been amused and interested by Davidson. His technique as a fashionable doctor was superb. ‘If Disraeli had taken to medicine instead of primroses,’ Lord Robert had said, ‘he would have been just such another.’ And he had encouraged Davidson to launch out on his favourite subject, The Arts, with rather emphatic capitals. He had capped Davidson’s Latin tags, quoted Congreve against him, and listened with amusement СКАЧАТЬ