CHAPTER XLII
關燈
小
中
大
her,withanxietyinhisvoice.“Whatsword?Whosesword?”
“Aswordoftheirs.”
“Whatwereyoudoingwithit?”
“Well,didn’tyousee,pater,Ihadtosnatchupthefirstthinghandy.Ihadn’tariding-whiporstick.IcaughthimonceortwiceovertheshoulderswiththeflatoftheiroldGermansword.”
“Thenwhat?”
“Hepulledoverthebookcase,asIsaid,andfell,”saidCharles,withasigh.Itwasnofundoingerrandsforhisfather,whowasneverquitesatisfied.
“Buttherealcausewasheartdisease?Ofthatyou’resure?”
“Thatorafit.However,weshallhearmorethanenoughattheinquestonsuchunsavourytopics.”
Theywentintobreakfast.Charleshadarackingheadache,consequentonmotoringbeforefood.Hewasalsoanxiousaboutthefuture,reflectingthatthepolicemustdetainHelenandMargaretfortheinquestandferretthewholethingout.HesawhimselfobligedtoleaveHilton.Onecouldnotaffordtolivenearthesceneofascandal—itwasnotfaironone’swife.Hiscomfortwasthatthepater’seyeswereopenedatlast.Therewouldbeahorriblesmash-up,andprobablyaseparationfromMargaretthentheywouldallstartagain,moreastheyhadbeeninhismother’stime.
“IthinkI’llgoroundtothepolice-station,”saidhisfatherwhenbreakfastwasover.
“Whatfor?”criedDolly,whohadstillnotbeen“told.”
“Verywell,sir.Whichcarwillyouhave?”
“IthinkI’llwalk.”
“It’sagoodhalf-mile,”saidCharles,steppingintothegarden.“Thesun
