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Updated: June 7, 2025
I hadn't set eyes on a copy since I left England. I didn't speak to Southbourne, though; I don't quite know why, except that I felt like a kind of Rip van Winkle, though I'd only been away a little more than a couple of months. And somehow I dreaded that lazy but penetrating stare of his, and the questions he would certainly fire off at me.
"Well, I fail to see how that clue could have led him to me," I said, forcing a laugh. I didn't mean to let Southbourne, or any one else, guess that I knew who that hairpin had belonged to. "It didn't; it led him nowhere; though I believe he spent several days going round the West End hairdressers' shops.
But he was an erratic and forgetful individual; he might have let the truth out to Southbourne, but the latter's face, as I watched it, revealed nothing. "Oh, that mysterious and interesting individual," I said indifferently. "Do you mind telling what he said about her?" "Not at all. It appears that he admires her enthusiastically, in a quite impersonal sort of way high-flown and sentimental.
"I think your informant must have been a journalist, Lord Southbourne," I said very quietly. "And we seem to have strayed pretty considerably from the point. I came here to take your instructions, and if I'm to start at nine on Monday I shall not see you again." He shrugged his shoulders. "All right; we'll get to business.
"It is rather sudden, surely!" "Oh, I don't think so. By the bye, mamma, shall we not soon feel a little dull if we are here all alone? It would be very nice to fill the house with guests and have a little gaiety. Perhaps " with a faint but charming blush "Lord Southbourne would come if he were asked."
"Hello! Yes I'm Maurice Wynn. Who are you?" "Harding. I've been ringing you up at intervals for hours. Carson's ill, and you're to relieve him. Come round for instructions to-night. Lord Southbourne will give them you himself. Eh? Yes, Whitehall Gardens. Ten-thirty, then. Right you are." I replaced the receiver, and started hustling into my dress clothes, thinking rapidly the while.
"He's a jolly good sort, and it would have been all up with me in another few hours. Though how on earth he could fix on me as Cassavetti's murderer, I can't imagine. It's a fool business, anyhow." "H'm yes, I suppose so," drawled Southbourne, in that exasperatingly deliberate way of his. "But I think you must blame or thank me for that!" "You! What had you to do with it?" I ejaculated.
I have never thought so badly of the French future as now no energy except among the Reds, no power of united action; general apathy even as to the present, and utter indifference to the future. The Journal continues: March 31st. Came down to Bournemouth for the first time with Hopie and the horses. April 8th. Rode to Hengistbury Head and saw for the first time the Southbourne estate.
I was thinking of Anne; and was only subconsciously aware of the hard monotonous voice until it ceased. "That's all, Harding. Thanks. Good night," said Southbourne, abruptly. He rose, yawned, stretched himself, sauntered towards me, subsided into an easy-chair, and lighted a cigarette. Harding gathered up his typed slips, exchanged a friendly nod with me, and quietly took himself off.
I had managed to regain my composure, and have no doubt that Southbourne considered my late agitation was merely the outcome of my natural horror and astonishment at the news of poor Carson's tragic fate. And now I meant to ascertain all he knew or suspected about the affair, without revealing my personal interest in it. "Not they! It came from Von Eckhardt.
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