“Supposing,” said Bobby, pausing on the doorstep, “that Mr. M. R. Riving-ton of Onslow Square is himself a solicitor1? That would be a blow.”
“You’d better try the Tite Street colonel first,” said Frankie. “He won’tknow anything about solicitors2.”
Accordingly, Bobby took a taxi to Tite Street. Colonel Rivington was out.
Mrs. Rivington, however, was at home. Bobby delivered over to the smartparlourmaid his card on which he had written: “From Messrs Spragge,Spragge, Jenkinson & Spragge. Very Urgent.”
The card and Lord Marchington’s clothes produced their effect upon theparlourmaid. She did not for an instant suspect that Bobby had come tosell miniatures or tout3 for insurances. He was shown into a beautifullyand expensively furnished drawing room and presently Mrs. Rivington,beautifully- and expensively-dressed and made-up, came into the room.
“I must apologize for troubling you, Mrs. Rivington,” said Bobby. “Butthe matter was rather urgent and we wished to avoid the delay of letters.”
That any solicitor could ever wish to avoid delay seemed so transpar-ently impossible that Bobby for a moment wondered anxiously whetherMrs. Rivington would see through the pretence4.
Mrs. Rivington, however, was clearly a woman of more looks thanbrains who accepted things as they were presented to her.
“Oh, do sit down!” she said. “I got the telephone message just now fromyour office saying that you were on your way here.”
Bobby mentally applauded Frankie for this last-minute flash of brilli-ance.
He sat down and endeavoured to look legal.
“It is about our client, Mr. Alan Carstairs,” he said.
“Oh, yes?”
“He may have mentioned that we were acting5 for him.”
“Did he now? I believe he did,” said Mrs. Rivington, opening very largeblue eyes. She was clearly of a suggestible type. “But of course, I knowabout you. You acted for Dolly Maltravers, didn’t you, when she shot thatdreadful dressmaker man? I suppose you know all the details?”
She looked at him with frank curiosity. It seemed to Bobby that Mrs. Riv-ington was going to be easy meat.
“We know a lot that never comes into court,” he said, smiling.
“Oh, I suppose you must.” Mrs. Rivington looked at him enviously6. “Tellme, did she really—I mean, was she dressed as that woman said?”
“The story was contradicted in court,” said Bobby solemnly. He slightlydropped the corner of his eyelid7.
“Oh, I see,” breathed Mrs. Rivington, enraptured8.
“About Mr. Carstairs,” said Bobby, feeling that he had now establishedfriendly relations and could get on with his job. “He left England very sud-denly, as perhaps you know?”
Mrs. Rivington shook her head.
“Has he left England? I didn’t know. We haven’t seen him for sometime.”
“Did he tell you how long he expected to be over here?”
“He said he might be here for a week or two or it might be six months ora year.”
“Where was he staying?”
“At the Savoy.”
“And you saw him last—when?”
“Oh, about three weeks or a month ago. I can’t remember.”
“You took him down to Staverley one day?”
“Of course! I believe that’s the last time we saw him. He rang up to knowwhen he could see us. He’d just arrived in London and Hubert was veryput out because we were going up to Scotland the next day, and we weregoing down to Staverley to lunch and dining out with some dreadfulpeople that we couldn’t get rid of, and he wanted to see Carstairs becausehe liked him so much, and so I said: ‘My dear, let’s take him down to theBassington- ffrenches with us. They won’t mind.’ And we did. And, ofcourse, they didn’t.”
She came breathlessly to a pause.
“Did he tell you his reasons for being in England?” asked Bobby.
“No. Did he have any? Oh yes, I know. We thought it was something todo with that millionaire man, that friend of his, who had such a tragicdeath. Some doctor told him he had cancer and he killed himself. A verywicked thing for a doctor to do, don’t you think so? And they’re often quitewrong. Our doctor said the other day that my little girl had measles9 and itturned out to be a sort of heat rash. I told Hubert I should change him.”
Ignoring Mrs. Rivington’s treatment of doctors as though they were lib-rary books, Bobby returned to the point.
“Did Mr. Carstairs know the Bassington-ffrenches?”
“Oh, no! But I think he liked them. Though he was very queer andmoody on the way back. I suppose something that had been said musthave upset him. He’s a Canadian, you know, and I often think Canadiansare so touchy10.”
“You don’t know what it was that upset him?”
“I haven’t the least idea. The silliest things do it sometimes, don’t they?”
“Did he take any walks in the neighbourhood?” asked Bobby.
“Oh, no! What a very odd idea!” She stared at him.
Bobby tried again.
“Was there a party? Did he meet any of the neighbours?”
“No, it was just ourselves and them. But it’s odd your saying that—”
“Yes,” said Bobby eagerly, as she paused.
“Because he asked a most frightful11 lot of questions about some peoplewho lived near there.”
“Do you remember the name?”
“No, I don’t. It wasn’t anyone very interesting—some doctor or other.”
“Dr. Nicholson?”
“I believe that was the name. He wanted to know all about him and hiswife and when they came there — all sorts of things. It seemed so oddwhen he didn’t know them, and he wasn’t a bit a curious man as a rule.
But, of course, perhaps he was only making conversation, and couldn’tthink of anything to say. One does do things like that sometimes.”
Bobby agreed that one did and asked how the subject of the Nicholsonshad come up, but that Mrs. Rivington was unable to tell him. She had beenout with Henry Bassington-ffrench in the garden and had come in to findthe others discussing the Nicholsons.
So far, the conversation had proceeded easily, Bobby pumping the ladywithout any camouflage12, but she now displayed a sudden curiosity.
“But what is it you want to know about Mr. Carstairs?” she asked.
“I really wanted his address,” explained Bobby. “As you know, we actfor him and we’ve just had a rather important cable from New York—youknow, there’s rather a serious fluctuation13 in the dollar just now—”
Mrs. Rivington nodded with desperate intelligence.
“And so,” continued Bobby rapidly, “we wanted to get in touch with him— to get his instructions — and he hasn’t left an address — and, havingheard him mention he was a friend of yours, I thought you might possiblyhave news of him.”
“Oh, I see,” said Mrs. Rivington, completely satisfied. “What a pity. Buthe’s always rather a vague man, I should think.”
“Oh, distinctly so,” said Bobby. “Well,” he rose, “I apologize for taking upso much of your time.”
“Oh, not at all,” said Mrs. Rivington. “And it’s so interesting to know thatDolly Maltravers really did—as you say she did.”
“I said nothing at all,” said Bobby.
“Yes, but then lawyers are so discreet14, aren’t they?” said Mrs. Rivingtonwith a little gurgle of laughter.
“So that’s all right,” thought Bobby, as he walked away down Tite Street.
“I seem to have taken Dolly Whatsername’s character away for good, but Idaresay she deserves it, and that charming idiot of a woman will neverwonder why, if I wanted Carstairs’ address, I didn’t simply ring up and askfor it!”
Back in Brook15 Street he and Frankie discussed the matter from everyangle.
“It looks as though it were really pure chance that took him to theBassington-ffrenches,” said Frankie thoughtfully.
“I know. But evidently when he was down there some chance remarkdirected his attention to the Nicholsons.”
“So that, really, it is Nicholson who is at the heart of the mystery, not theBassington-ffrenches?”
Bobby looked at her.
“Still intent on whitewashing16 your hero,” he inquired coldly.
“My dear, I’m only pointing out what it looks like. It’s the mention ofNicholson and his nursing home that excited Carstairs. Being taken downto the Bassington-ffrenches was a pure matter of chance. You must admitthat.”
“It seems like it.”
“Why only ‘seems?’ ”
“Well, there is just one other possibility. In some way, Carstairs mayhave found out that the Rivingtons were going down to lunch with theBassington-ffrenches. He may have overheard some chance remark in arestaurant—at the Savoy, perhaps. So he rings them up, very urgent to seethem, and what he hopes may happen does happen. They’re very booked-up and they suggest his coming down with them — their friends won’tmind and they do so want to see him. That is possible, Frankie.”
“It is possible, I suppose. But it seems a very roundabout method of do-ing things.”
“No more roundabout than your accident,” said Bobby.
“My accident was vigorous direct action,” said Frankie coldly.
Bobby removed Lord Marchington’s clothes and replaced them wherehe had found them. Then he donned his chauffeur’s uniform once moreand they were soon speeding back to Staverley.
“If Roger has fallen for me,” said Frankie demurely17, “he’ll be pleased I’vecome back so soon. He’ll think I can’t bear to be away from him for long.”
“I’m not sure that you can bear it, either,” said Bobby. “I’ve alwaysheard that really dangerous criminals were singularly attractive.”
“Somehow I can’t believe he is a criminal.”
“So you remarked before.”
“Well, I feel like that.”
“You can’t get over the photograph.”
“Damn the photograph!” said Frankie.
Bobby drove up the drive in silence. Frankie sprang out and went intothe house without a backward glance. Bobby drove away.
The house seemed very silent. Frankie glanced at the clock. It was halfpast two.
“They don’t expect me back for hours yet,” she thought. “I wonderwhere they are?”
She opened the door of the library and went in, stopping suddenly onthe threshold.
Dr. Nicholson was sitting on the sofa, holding both Sylvia Bassington-ffrench’s hands in his.
Sylvia jumped to her feet and came across the room towards Frankie.
“He’s been telling me,” she said.
Her voice was stifled18. She put both hands to her face as though to hide itfrom view.
“It’s too terrible,” she sobbed19, and, brushing past Frankie, she ran out ofthe room.
Dr. Nicholson had risen. Frankie advanced a step or two towards him.
His eyes, watchful20 as ever, met hers.
“Poor lady,” he said suavely21. “It has been a great shock to her.”
The muscles at the corner of his mouth twitched23. For a moment or twoFrankie fancied that he was amused. And then, quite suddenly, she real-ized that it was quite a different emotion.
The man was angry. He was holding himself in, hiding his anger behinda suave22 bland24 mask, but the emotion was there. It was all he could do tohold that emotion in.
There was a moment’s pause.
“It was best that Mrs. Bassington-ffrench should know the truth,” saidthe doctor. “I want her to induce her husband to place himself in myhands.”
“I’m afraid,” said Frankie gently, “that I interrupted you.” She paused. “Icame back sooner than I meant.”

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1
solicitor
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n.初级律师,事务律师 | |
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2
solicitors
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初级律师( solicitor的名词复数 ) | |
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3
tout
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v.推销,招徕;兜售;吹捧,劝诱 | |
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4
pretence
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n.假装,作假;借口,口实;虚伪;虚饰 | |
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acting
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n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
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6
enviously
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adv.满怀嫉妒地 | |
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7
eyelid
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n.眼睑,眼皮 | |
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8
enraptured
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v.使狂喜( enrapture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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9
measles
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n.麻疹,风疹,包虫病,痧子 | |
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10
touchy
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adj.易怒的;棘手的 | |
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frightful
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adj.可怕的;讨厌的 | |
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12
camouflage
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n./v.掩饰,伪装 | |
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13
fluctuation
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n.(物价的)波动,涨落;周期性变动;脉动 | |
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14
discreet
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adj.(言行)谨慎的;慎重的;有判断力的 | |
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15
brook
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n.小河,溪;v.忍受,容让 | |
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16
whitewashing
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粉饰,美化,掩饰( whitewash的现在分词 ); 喷浆 | |
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17
demurely
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adv.装成端庄地,认真地 | |
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18
stifled
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(使)窒息, (使)窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 ); 镇压,遏制; 堵 | |
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19
sobbed
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哭泣,啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 ); 哭诉,呜咽地说 | |
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20
watchful
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adj.注意的,警惕的 | |
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21
suavely
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22
suave
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adj.温和的;柔和的;文雅的 | |
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23
twitched
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vt.& vi.(使)抽动,(使)颤动(twitch的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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24
bland
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adj.淡而无味的,温和的,无刺激性的 | |
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