Chapter Twenty-One
I
Lance and Pat wandered round the well- kept grounds surrounding
“I hope I’m not hurting your feelings, Lance,” Pat murmured, “if I say
this is quite the nastiest garden I’ve ever been in.”
“It won’t hurt my feelings,” said Lance. “Is it? Really I don’t know. It
Pat said:
“Probably that’s what’s wrong with it. No expense spared, no signs of an
individual taste. All the right rhododendrons and all the right bedding out
done in the proper season, I expect.”
“Well, what would you put in an English garden, Pat, if you had one?”
“My garden,” said Pat, “would have hollyhocks, larkspurs and Canter-
bury bells, no bedding out and none of these horrible
yews4.”
“Association of ideas,” said Lance easily.
“There’s something
awfully6 frightening about a poisoner,” said Pat. “I
mean it must be a
horrid7, brooding revengeful mind.”
“So that’s how you see it? Funny! I just think of it as businesslike and
cold-blooded.”
“I suppose one could look at it that way.” She resumed, with a slight
shiver, “All the same, to do three murders … Whoever did it must be mad.”
“Yes,” said Lance, in a low voice. “I’m afraid so.” Then breaking out
sharply, he said: “For God’s sake, Pat, do go away from here. Go back to
London. Go down to Devonshire or up to the Lakes. Go to Stratford-on-
Avon or go and look at the Norfolk Broads. The police wouldn’t mind your
going—you had nothing to do with all this. You were in Paris when the old
man was killed and in London when the other two died. I tell you it wor-
ries me to death to have you here.”
Pat paused a moment before saying quietly:
“You know who it is, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t.”
“But you think you know … That’s why you’re frightened for me … I
wish you’d tell me.”
“I can’t tell you. I don’t know anything. But I wish to God you’d go away
from here.”
“Darling,” said Pat. “I’m not going. I’m staying here. For better, for
worse. That’s how I feel about it.” She added, with a sudden catch in her
voice: “Only with me it’s always for worse.”
“What on earth do you mean, Pat?”
“I bring bad luck. That’s what I mean. I bring bad luck to anybody I
come in contact with.”
“My dear adorable nitwit, you haven’t brought bad luck to me. Look
how after I married you the old man sent for me to come home and make
friends with him.”
“Yes, and what happened when you did come home? I tell you, I’m un-
lucky to people.”
“Look here, my sweet, you’ve got a thing about all this. It’s
superstition8,
pure and simple.”
“I can’t help it. Some people do bring bad luck. I’m one of them.”
Lance took her by the shoulders and shook her violently. “You’re my Pat
and to be married to you is the greatest luck in the world. So get that into
your silly head.” Then, calming down, he said in a more sober voice: “But,
seriously, Pat, do be very careful. If there is someone unhinged round
here, I don’t want you to be the one who stops the bullet or drinks the hen-
bane.”
“Or drinks the henbane as you say.”
“When I’m not around, stick to that old lady. What’s-her-name Marple.
Why do you think Aunt Effie asked her to stay here?”
“Goodness knows why Aunt Effie does anything. Lance, how long are we
going to stay here?”
“Difficult to say.”
“I don’t think,” said Pat, “that we’re really awfully welcome.” She hesit-
ated as she
spoke10 the words. “The house belongs to your brother now, I
suppose? He doesn’t really want us here, does he?”
“Not he, but he’s got to stick us for the present at any rate.”
“And afterwards? What are we going to do, Lance? Are we going back to
East Africa or what?”
“Is that what you’d like to do, Pat?”
She nodded vigorously.
“That’s lucky,” said Lance, “because it’s what I’d like to do, too. I don’t
take much to this country nowadays.”
Pat’s face brightened.
“How lovely. From what you said the other day, I was afraid you might
want to stop here.”
A devilish glint appeared in Lance’s eyes.
“You’re to hold your tongue about our plans, Pat,” he said. “I have it in
my mind to twist dear brother Percival’s tail a bit.”
“Oh, Lance, do be careful.”
“I’ll be careful, my sweet, but I don’t see why old Percy should get away
with everything.”
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