Jumping Jenny (6 page)

“Ena!” shouted Ronald.

“What?”

“Good night.”

“But I’m not going.”

“
Yes, you are. You wanted to, and you shall. Besides, you’re bored.”

“Only because I’m tired of dancing. I shouldn’t be if only we could do something amusing.”

“Well, we’re not going to do anything amusing, so off you go. I can’t stand the sight of bored guests about the place. Good night.”

Ena plumped herself down in a vacant chair, laughing triumphantly.

“Now she’s got our attention, she’s happy again,” Roger confided to Mrs. Lefroy.

Ronald was happy, too, at the prospect of getting rid of Ena.

“Good night, Ena,” he repeated.

“No, no, I’m not going. I’ve changed my mind. It’s a woman’s privilege to change her mind, you know.”

“I don’t care about that. You said you were going, and you are.” Ronald spat ostentatiously on his hands. “Come on, David. You take her head, and I’ll take her heels.”

“Ronald doing the he-man stuff,” said Roger to Mrs. Lefroy. “Take warning.”

“They’re only joking.”

“Not altogether. Ronald’s pretending to joke, but he’s extremely annoyed; and I’m not surprised. What’s the betting on him getting rid of her?”

“About a hundred to one against, I should think,” said Mrs. Lefroy, not very hopefully.

With merry laughter the trio set about their tussle. Ronald caught his sister-in-law by the heels, David took her shoulders. On the surface it was just meaningless horse-play. At any rate, Ena herself seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it as such, while she pretended to struggle and resist.

The two men carried her, kicking and shrieking with laughter, across the floor.

Then, all of a sudden, by the door, Ena precipitated a change. She aimed a really vicious kick at Ronald, she struck up with her fists at her husband’s face, and she screamed out:

“Let me go, you swine! Damn you, let me go.”

They let her go, with a thud on the parquet floor.

Ena scrambled to her feet, rushed out of the room, and banged the door behind her with a crash that shook the house.

“Well, well, well,” said Roger to Mrs. Lefroy.

David Stratton stood looking uncertainly at the closed door.

“Oh, let her be,” said Ronald.

David shrugged his shoulders. Then he walked back to the group where he had been sitting.

“Sorry, everyone,” he said briefly, a flush on his usually rather pale face.

Everyone began to be as nice to him as they could, with the result that a perfectly unnatural atmosphere was created, and it was all rather embarrassing. Roger made what was probably a popular movement when he rose to his feet with the remark that a drink he must and would have, and carried David Stratton off with him to the bar, where he gave him a stiff whisky-and-soda and talked firmly to him about the exploits of the M.C.C. cricket team in Australia the previous winter—a topic in which, somewhat to his surprise, he discovered Stratton to be passionately interested.

In the meantime the party, relieved of Ena Stratton’s blighting presence, went on with renewed vigour; dancing was resumed, those who wanted to do so stood in little groups and discussed, with the academic ferocity appropriate to 2
A.M
., such questions as interested them, and everything in the ballroom was harmony.

At a quarter-past two David Stratton joined his brother and Roger, who happened to be together at the bar, and announced that he thought he must be pushing off.

“Don’t go yet, David. Everyone will think they ought to go too, if they see you slinking away.”

“I think I’d better.”

“If you’re thinking of Ena, much better leave her alone for a bit longer. She’ll take it out on you as usual if you get back before she’s safely asleep.”

“Still,” said David, with a rueful smile, “I think I’d better, if you don’t mind.”

“All right, if you really mean it. Anyhow, good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll probably need it. Good night, Sheringham.”

When he had gone, Ronald sighed.

“I’m afraid the poor lad’s in for a nasty quarter of an hour.”

“But he didn’t do anything.”

“Oh, that doesn’t matter. He’s always the scapegoat, when that maniac of a woman doesn’t think she’s had enough admiration. David’s such a good chap, and she leads him an absolute dog’s life. Oh, well, thank heaven I’m a bachelor.”

“Very temporarily, though?”

“Oh, very,” said Ronald with a laugh.

“Once a married man, always a married man, I’m afraid,” Roger said compassionately. “Both you and your brother are marrying types, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Ronald agreed, and swallowed a sip of his whisky-and-soda. “Poor David, though. A first marriage should never be binding.”

Roger, who had heard something like this already during the evening, knew what line to take. “One develops,” he said tactfully.

“Yes, of course. But apart from that one hasn’t the knowledge of the other sex. An experienced man might have seen through Ena during the engagement, and been able to save his soul; David was far too green. And now that he has …”

“Seen through her?”

“No, met the girl who would be exactly right for him. Yes, it’s very tough luck.”

“There’s no chance of a friendly divorce?”

“None! Ena would certainly never agree. She’s got her bird in its cage, and it wouldn’t be she who’d ever open the door. So David hasn’t approached her on the topic at all. She’d only be more impossible than ever if she knew he was in love with someone else. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, Sheringham.”

“You should drink beer instead of whisky,” Roger suggested.

“Perhaps that’s it. Anyhow, I apologise for inflicting all this family history on you. It can’t possibly interest you.”

“On the contrary, all human relationships interest me, especially tangles. But I really am very sorry for your brother. Isn’t it possible for anything to be done?”

“Nothing short of murder,” said Ronald gloomily.

“And that,” said Roger, “always does seem to me a little drastic. Well, here’s luck to you, Ronald, at any rate.”

“Thanks,” said Ronald, brightening. “Yes, my goodness, Sheringham, I’ve struck it lucky. Agatha really is …”

His conversation threatened to become maudlin. Ronald should have stuck to beer.

“Yes, rather,” said Roger hastily. “Look here, hadn’t we better be getting back to the ballroom?”

SOMEONE IS MURDERED

Dr. Philip Chalmers ran his car into the garage-yard, which had once been the stable-yard. His radiator had nearly boiled on the way back, and he wanted to fill it up now and not keep Lucy waiting when they came down. He had had to drive past, but not across, the big semicircle of gravel in front of the house to reach the yard, and in the moonlight had seen three cars still standing there, so evidently the party had not broken up yet. Without bothering to work it out, Dr. Chalmers knew that one of these cars must be the Mitchells’, one the David Strattons’, and the other the one which had brought Margot Stratton and Mike Armstrong from London, whither they were returning that night. The party therefore remained exactly as he had left it three-quarters of an hour ago.

Dr. Chalmers was a little sorry, because that meant that it would be he who would break up the gathering. Lucy would be annoyed, too, because the visit had not taken so long as he had expected; he had been only three-quarters of an hour over it instead of the hour he had promised her. But that could not be helped. Dr. Chalmers was tired; and he intended to get to bed as soon as he possibly could, party or no party, Lucy or no Lucy. Late hours did not suit him any longer. Dr. Chalmers mildly envied Ronald, who, in spite of being three years older, seemed to thrive on late hours.

While he was filling his radiator he heard one of the cars starting up and, a moment later, saw its tail-light disappearing down the drive. That was rather a relief. He and Lucy would not now be the first to leave. As, a minute later, he passed the two remaining cars on his way to the front door, Dr. Chalmers had the curiosity to see which one it was that had gone. He noticed that it was David’s. Poor David! Dr. Chalmers sighed. That damnable Ena had spoiled the evening again. Dr. Chalmers wished for the thousandth time that he could somehow wangle a certificate and get her put into an asylum; but that, of course, was impossible.

The latch was still up on the front door, and Dr. Chalmers walked in.

As he climbed the stairs he could hear the radio-gramophone in the ballroom. So they were still dancing. Turning the last angle of the staircase, Dr. Chalmers saw a back disappearing through the ballroom door which looked like Ronald’s. He called out a greeting, but the owner of the back evidently had not heard it, for the door was closed the next instant behind him. As his head came level with the floor of the bar-room Dr. Chalmers looked in there, but the room was empty. A last, very small drink would be pleasant, after his cold drive. He took a step or two into the room, and then remembered that he was still without his pipe, which he had missed badly on the journey back. He was dying for a smoke; the drink could wait. He had an idea that he had left his pipe in the sun-parlour, after he had been sitting up there with Margot.

Dr. Chalmers went up on to the roof. Any noise his footsteps might have made on the landing carpet was drowned in the music from the big gramophone, but Dr. Chalmers did not appreciate that.

The sun-parlour was apparently empty, for the lights were out. Dr. Chalmers switched them on, and glanced round for his pipe. He saw, not the pipe, but Ena Stratton, lying in a basket-chair and frowning at him.

“Why hullo, Ena,” he said, in the pleasant, hearty tones with which he was accustomed to greet everyone, whether he happened to love or detest them. As a matter of fact, Dr. Chalmers, although mildly disliking one or two people, detested only two—Ena Stratton, and an aunt of his wife’s. He was a tolerant man.

“Hullo Phil,” said Ena flatly.

Dr. Chalmers gave his useless arm a twitch so as to lodge the hand in his dinner-jacket pocket, and smiled in a friendly way. The more he disliked a person, the more careful he was to smile at her in a friendly way.

“I thought you and David had gone. Wasn’t it David’s car that drove away just now?”

“Was it? I dare say.”

“Anything the matter?” asked Dr. Chalmers, smiling more amicably than ever.

“Oh, David and Ronald between them threw me out of the ballroom just after you’d gone. I don’t know whether you call that anything,” said Ena, in a martyr’s voice.

“Threw you out? Oh, come, Ena; that can’t be quite accurate, surely.”

Ena’s scanty bosom heaved. “That’s right. Now you begin, Phil. Go on, call me a liar.”

“My dear girl, I have no intention of calling you a liar. But I can’t believe that you’re not exaggerating a little when you say Ronald and David threw you out of the ballroom.”

“Then ask anyone else who was there. They did. They picked me up by the head and the heels and carried me across the room. My God, I tell you, I’ve had about enough. I’m not going to stand it much longer, Phil.”

“But if they did carry you across the room, it must have been only in fun?”

“Oh no, it wasn’t. They may have pretended it was, but it wasn’t. They wanted to get rid of me. Ronald especially. He’s been publicly insulting me all the evening. Even you must have noticed that. I tell you, Phil, I’m not going to stand that kind of treatment. Ronald needn’t think he’s going to get away with that kind of thing from me. In front of all those grinning apes …”

Dr. Chalmers may have meant well, but his tact was not always very tactful. “I expect we’ve all had a little too much to drink this evening,” said Dr. Chalmers, smiling pleasantly. “You’ll feel different about it in the morning, Ena.”

“If you mean I’m drunk,” Ena said indignantly, “I’m not. I only wish I were. Heaven knows I’ve tried hard enough this evening, but it just seems as if my head were cast-iron. I simply can’t get drunk; so it’s no good saying that, Phil.”

“But why on earth did you want to get drunk?”

“Because getting drunk,” explained Mrs. Stratton with dignity, “is the only thing worth while. In a life such as I have to lead, getting drunk is the only thing that’s
real.”

“
Oh, rubbish,” said Dr. Chalmers, far too robustly.

Mrs. Stratton rolled her eyes. “You can say that, of course. You just don’t happen to know me, that’s all—not the real me.”

Dr. Chalmers dropped into a chair. He knocked out the pipe he had retrieved, and refilled it.

“Now look here, Ena, aren’t you talking a little wildly? I’m quite sure Ronald hadn’t the slightest wish to get rid of you, nor David. If they really did pick you up, then it must have been just horse-play. You mustn’t take that sort of thing seriously, you know.” Dr. Chalmers’s voice was quite treacly with soothing syrup.

“Ronald will find he’s got to take me seriously,” said Ena, setting her mouth like a rat-trap.

“How do you mean?”

“I could make things very awkward for Ronald.
Very
awkward. And that’s just what I intend to do.”

“But how?”

“I don’t like that woman he thinks he’s going to marry. Mrs. Lefroy.”

“Oh, don’t you? I think she’s particularly charming.”

“Yes, no doubt. It takes a woman to see through her type.
I
call her a bad lot.”

“Really, Ena, you mustn’t say that kind of thing, you know.”

Ena began to breathe more quickly. “I shall say exactly what I like. I shall say what I think. Mrs. Lefroy isn’t the kind of woman whom
I
intend to have as a sister-in-law.”

“But why?”

“She’s been extremely rude to me this evening.”

“Oh come, Ena, I’m sure she didn’t mean to be.”

“Oh yes, she did. Do you think I don’t know?”

“But what has she done?”

“Nothing! That’s just the point. She just nodded to me, in the most off-hand way, when we arrived, and hasn’t spoken a word to me all the evening. If she thinks she can treat me like that, she’? quite mistaken.”