The Clock Strikes Twelve

Chapter 40

About ten minutes later Irene opened the door, said “Oh!” in a very startled voice, and hung undecided whether to go or stay. Lydia, with a firm hold upon the arm which Mark had just removed from her waist, remarked with modest pride,

“It’s all right-we’re engaged. Come along and say ‘Bless you, my children.’ And I’m going back to lunch with him at the River House, so you’ll get a chance of saving on my rations. Hurry up with the congratulations, because we’re going to be late, and you know how much Aunt Grace likes that.”

Irene stared, caught her breath, and made the most admired gaffe of her life.

“I thought it was Dicky!”

“Dicky didn’t,” said Lydia crisply. “Mark on the other hand did, but he doesn’t now. You can think up something a little more effusive over the sago pudding, darling. I shan’t be back for ages, so you’ve got plenty of time.”

Lunch was in progress at the River House when they walked in, but it had not got very far. Grace Paradine raised her eyebrows very slightly, Lane set a place beside Mark’s, and the meal went on.

It was whilst he was handing the vegetables that Miss Paradine asked in a low voice, “Where is Louisa?” and received the equally low reply,

“She is not very well, madam.” The hand under the dish from which she was helping herself to potato shook slightly.

Her eyebrows lifted again.

Nobody wished to prolong the necessary business of eating, but in the absence of Louisa the service dragged. Phyllida and Elliot Wray were placed at opposite ends of the table. Elliot looked at no one, ate what was set in front of him, and confined his conversation to Mark, who on more than one occasion answered at cross purposes. Phyllida kept her eyes on her plate. She had a pretty colour, and every now and then her lips trembled into a smile. Grace Paradine, catching one of these looks, stiffened and ate no more.

Mark and Lydia sat side by side. They did not look at one another. Each felt the other unendurably dear. Each experienced an almost terrifying happiness, which might at any moment be snatched away. For Mark to be silent was nothing new, but if everyone else had not been equally preoccupied, the fact that Lydia scarcely opened her lips could not have failed to attract attention. Miss Silver alone appeared to be perfectly at her ease. She conversed pleasantly with Albert Pearson, who for once had very little to say.

Everyone was glad when the meal was over. Mark went to make a telephone call. Lydia left the room with Phyllida. Miss Silver, Albert, and Elliot Wray were following, when Miss Paradine, who had walked over to the windows, turned back and addressed herself directly to Elliot.

“Will you remain behind for a moment. There is something I want to say.”

He shut the door upon the others and waited.

“What is it, Miss Paradine?”

“I would like to know when you propose to leave this house.”

His look had been so hard before that it did not seem as if it could harden any farther, yet this happened. He said,

“I came here at Mr. Paradine’s invitation-his very urgent invitation. I am staying at Mark’s. I shall probably stay until after the funeral. Is that all?”

“No. I should like you to go. You are not welcome here.”

“I am not your guest, Miss Paradine.”

She had been pale, very pale indeed, but now the colour flooded into her face.

“Have you no consideration for Phyllida?”

“Have you?”

“That is insolent.”

Elliot laughed.

“You can’t have it both ways, I’m afraid. If we are being polite, you don’t order me out of Mark’s house. If we revert to the comfortable state of saying just what we think, I can say things too. Do you want to hear them? Or shall we go back to being hostess and guest again?”

With the angry colour in her face she went to the door, but suddenly checked and turned, standing against the jamb. The flush died down, leaving her pale again.

“What have you got to say?”

Her movement had brought them so close together that there was not the stretch of an arm between them. It was too near for Elliot. His anger came up in his throat. He went back until the table stopped him. From this safer distance he said,

“You won’t like it.”

“What have you got to say?”

He stood looking at her for a moment before he answered. All the lines in her face had deepened. Every muscle was tense. Her eyes blazed at him. He said,

“I think you know. You wanted Phyllida for yourself. You tried to separate us, and you thought you’d brought it off. You knew perfectly well that what you told her was a lie. You couldn’t have known that I was helping Maisie without knowing that she was a cripple. You suppressed the letters I wrote to my wife-you sent me a forged telegram in her name. You thought you’d won. Then I came up here on business, and you couldn’t leave well alone. If you had you might have gone on winning-I don’t know. You had the bright idea that the loss of my blueprints might add a breach of business relations to the personal breach with the family. I don’t know what put it into your head. Your brother may have mentioned the blue-prints, or Dicky may have told you that Mr. Paradine had brought them home with him-probably Dicky. Anyhow you took them. I don’t know how Mr. Paradine knew it was you, but he did. He sent for me and made me stay. Then he cast his bombshell at dinner, and you knew you weren’t going to get away with it. You put the blueprints back before we came out of the dining-room- you had the opportunity when you went upstairs to get your presents for the girls. You didn’t see your brother then-he was still in the dining-room. Did you see him later? I heard a door shut upstairs when Albert and I were coming through the hall round about half past eleven. Were you meaning to come down and see him then? If you were, you would have heard us crossing the hall-you would have gone back and waited until we were out of the way and come down later. Did you come down later?”

She stood there and listened. When he had finished she said,

“Is that all?”

“Isn’t it enough?”

She turned stiffly and went out of the room.