WAX (A British Crime Thriller). Ethel Lina White

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      CHAPTER VI. THE BIRTH OF MURDER

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      When Sonia walked in at the gate of Stonehenge Lodge two afternoons later, she felt, not only an old member of the staff of the Chronicle, but that London had withdrawn to an incredible distance. The ancient town, with its worn cobbles, its murmurous underground river and hollowed pavements, had hypnotised her almost to the belief that she had lived there all her life.

      When she was shown into the drawing-room Mrs. Cuttle was entertaining two other guests; or, to be accurate, she was at home to them while they entertained her.

      Sonia had been prepared to find her hostess the pathetic creature of her dream. She had come in a generous spirit—eager to champion her, if help were necessary or possible. It was, therefore, rather a disappointment to discover that the lady was stolid, prosperous, and very well satisfied with herself.

      As she sat enthroned in a corpulent chair, she reminded Sonia of an over-stuffed satin pin-cushion. Her eyes were blue and expressionless, except when they rested on the tea-table which gleamed with the best silver. Then they reflected complacency.

      Sonia recognised Nurse Davis—still in becoming uniform. The other girl, who was tall, slight, and had honey-gold hair, was introduced as Mrs. Nile.

      She chatted like a fountain, while Nurse Davis rolled on like a river, leaving Sonia free to study the room. It was large and crowded with good furniture; the carpet was a hand-made Sparta—the hangings expensive. But there was too much of everything; from the Italian landscapes on the walls to the vases which held more flowers than they could display effectively.

      "It's the room of a greedy person," thought Sonia. Then she softened her judgment to "Or someone who's been kept short."

      In spite of its size the drawing-room was warm and airless. A huge fire burned in the brass dog-grate, and heavy blue velvet curtains shut out the still grey November daylight.

      Presently Sonia felt too torpid even to attempt to talk. At the same time her mind remained acutely receptive and tuned in to capture every impression.

      She seemed to be a spectator of some domestic drama. At first the action was sluggish, for the talk was of servants. Nurse Davis declared that there was a domestic famine, and told long stories of the local ladies' shifts and difficulties. She had barely stopped for breath when Mrs. Nile gave a lively exaggeration of the system of bribery and corruption by which she said she kept her servants.

      Mrs. Cuttle listened with pursed lips and nods. Presently she explained her own domestic arrangements.

      It was like listening to a vast cistern being emptied drop by drop. She spoke slowly—often pausing to capture an elusive word. Yet she remained unflurried, and resisted any attempt to hurry or help her account.

      "My girls are quite good. Well, not too bad. But I have to let them sleep out. It suits me. They come at seven and prepare the supper before they go."

      This was the gist of her long and detailed statement. But had she been outside Time, instead of being enclosed in a padded chair, she might have realised the future significance of her domestic arrangements.

      When at last she ran dry, Nurse Davis rushed into the gap.

      "Your house is always so beautifully kept," she gushed. "This room looks as if it had just been spring-cleaned."

      Mrs. Nile caught Sonia's eye with an elfin grin.

      "Mrs. Cuttle has no pets," she said.

      "No." Mrs. Cuttle nodded complacently. "Mr. Cuttle would like one, but cats scratch the furniture and dogs bring in dirt. I have СКАЧАТЬ