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Have you forgotten? I hardly think your memory is as short as that." He drew nearer still, and slipped a cajoling arm about her. "Why are we in such a towering rage, I wonder? Surely you don't want to repudiate your liabilities! You promised, you know." She flung up a desperate face to his. "Very well, Major Hunt-Goring," she said breathlessly. "Take it and go!" He bent to her.
Did you know?" Hunt-Goring nodded to each sentence. "I know it all. I know Jim Ratcliffe, and a burly old monster he is. I know Nick of Redlands also the sedate Mrs. Nick. And, last but not least, I know Olga." He spoke mockingly; his look was derisive. "I had no idea you had been living there," said Daisy. "I was the hornet in the hive," said Hunt-Goring with his lazy laugh.
Olga cast a single glance over her shoulder, and turned to Noel with panic in her eyes. "I've forgotten something," she said in a palpitating whisper. "I must run back to the cloak-room. Wait for me!" She was gone with the words, fleeing like a hunted creature, till the gathering crowd hid her from sight. Hunt-Goring smiled, and turned aside. He had no pressing desire for a public meeting.
"Olga Ratcliffe used to be somewhat smitten with the young man in what I might call her calf days. Doubtless she has got over that by now, especially as the girl who died was a friend of hers." "But she can't know of that!" said Daisy quickly. "She has been very ill, you know an illness brought on by the shock of it all." "Indeed!" said Hunt-Goring, and became significantly silent.
Do you know Major Hunt-Goring? It was he who gave them to me. He thinks he is going to marry me, but he isn't!" "Great Lucifer!" said Nick. She turned towards him. "What an appropriate name! I wish I'd thought of it. Do you know him?" "Know him!" Nick's grimace was expressive. "Yes, I know him." "Well?" "Rather better than he thinks." She laughed again, lightly, inconsequently, irresistibly.
"Well, scarcely, since you, yourself, informed me of the approaching event some months before it took place." Noel made a slight gesture of surprise, and the colour rose in a hot wave to Olga's face; but she looked steadily at Hunt-Goring and said nothing. He went on, smoothly satirical. "I used to think the odds were in favour of Miss Campion, you know.
"Well, dear?" said Olga gently. Violet was sitting with her back to the moonlight, her face in deep shadow. Her black hair was loosely tied back and hung below her waist. Olga stretched out a hand and touched the silken ripples caressingly. Violet threw back her head restlessly. "I'm going to give up Hunt-Goring," she said. "My dear, I am glad!" said Olga fervently. Violet laughed again.
She came and slipped her hand into his. "Yes, Nick." He squeezed her fingers hard. "Our friend Hunt-Goring has been sticking his oar in," he said. "This hysteria has been caused by him." "You mean he has told her the whole story?" said Max. "Yes," said Olga. He considered the matter for a few seconds in silence. "And how long has this sort of thing been going on?" he asked then.
She looked at him in surprise. "I'm sure I don't know. I'm not so inquisitive as you are. You had better ask Violet." "Ask me what?" said Violet, detaching her attention from Major Hunt-Goring for a moment. "Nothing," said Max. "I was only wondering how many glasses of rhubarb wine you had at 'The Ship." Carelessly he rallied her on the subject, carelessly let it pass.
"Not even that. But since you ask me the odds are certainly very greatly in my favour." And with that he turned on his heel, still smiling, and sauntered away. As he went, Violet stooped towards Olga with a face gone suddenly white, and grasped her arm. "Remember, Allegro!" she said. "Not a word about Hunt-Goring to anyone! Not one single tiny suspicion of a hint!"
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