One

IMrs. Bantry was dreaming. Her sweet peas had just taken a First at theflower show. The vicar, dressed in cassock and surplice, was giving out theprizes in church. His wife wandered past, dressed in a bathing suit, but asis the blessed habit of dreams this fact did not arouse the disapproval ofthe parish in the way it would assuredly have done in real life….

Mrs. Bantry was enjoying her dream a good deal. She usually did enjoythose early-morning dreams that were terminated by the arrival of early-morning tea. Somewhere in her inner consciousness was an awareness ofthe usual early-morning noises of the household. The rattle of the curtainrings on the stairs as the housemaid drew them, the noises of the secondhousemaid’s dustpan and brush in the passage outside. In the distance theheavy noise of the front-door bolt being drawn back.

Another day was beginning. In the meantime she must extract as muchpleasure as possible from the flower show—for already its dream-likequality was becoming apparent….

Below her was the noise of the big wooden shutters in the drawingroom being opened. She heard it, yet did not hear it. For quite half anhour longer the usual household noises would go on, discreet, subdued,not disturbing because they were so familiar. They would culminate in aswift, controlled sound of footsteps along the passage, the rustle of a printdress, the subdued chink of tea things as the tray was deposited on thetable outside, then the soft knock and the entry of Mary to draw the cur-tains.

In her sleep Mrs. Bantry frowned. Something disturbing was penetrat-ing through to the dream state, something out of its time. Footsteps alongthe passage, footsteps that were too hurried and too soon. Her earslistened unconsciously for the chink of china, but there was no chink ofchina.

The knock came at the door. Automatically from the depths of herdreams Mrs. Bantry said: “Come in.” The door opened—now there wouldbe the chink of curtain rings as the curtains were drawn back.

But there was no chink of curtain rings. Out of the dim green lightMary’s voice came—breathless, hysterical: “Oh, ma’am, oh, ma’am, there’sa body in the library.”

And then with a hysterical burst of sobs she rushed out of the roomagain.