Free Endless Night by Agatha Christie Page B

was Mr. Andrew P. Lippincott. He was an elderly man, dry and precise in appearance. He was long and lean with suave and courteous manners. He was a Bostonian and from his voice I wouldn't have known he was an American. By arrangement through the telephone he called upon us in our suite at 2 o'clock. Ellie was nervous, I could tell, although she concealed it very well.
    Mr. Lippincott kissed Ellie and extended a hand and a pleasant smile to me.
    “Well, Ellie my dear, you are looking very well. Blooming, I might say.”
    “How are you, Uncle Andrew? How did you come. Did you fly?”
    “No, I had a very pleasant trip across on the Queen Mary. And this is your husband?”
    “This is Mike, yes.”
    I played up, or thought I did.
    “How are you, sir?” I said.
    Then I asked him if he'd have a drink, which he refused pleasantly. He sat down in an upright chair with gilt arms to it and looked, still smiling, from Ellie to me.
    “Well,” he said, “you young people have been giving us shocks. All very romantic, eh?”
    “I'm sorry,” said Ellie, “I really am sorry.”
    “Are you?” said Mr. Lippincott, rather dryly.
    “I thought it was the best way,” said Ellie.
    “I am not altogether of your opinion there, my dear.”
    “Uncle Andrew,” Ellie said, “you know perfectly well that if I'd done it any other way there would have been the most frightful fuss.”
    “Why should there have been such a frightful fuss?”
    “You know what they'd have been like,” said Ellie.
    “You too,” she added accusingly. She added “I've had two letters from Cora. One yesterday and one this morning.”
    “You must discount a certain amount of agitation, my dear. It's only natural under the circumstances, don't you think?”
    “It's my business who I get married to and how and where.”
    “You may think so, but you will find that the women of any family would rarely agree as to that.”
    “Really, I've saved everyone a lot of trouble.”
    “You may put it that way.”
    “But it's true, isn't it?”
    “But you practised, did you not, a good deal of deception, helped by someone who should have known better than to do what she did.”
    Ellie flushed.
    “You mean Greta? She only did what I asked her to. Are they all very upset with her?”
    “Naturally. Neither she nor you could expect anything else, could you? She was, remember, in a position of trust.”
    “I'm of age. I can do what I like.”
    “I am speaking of the period of time before you were of age. The deceptions began then, did they not?”
    “You mustn't blame Ellie, sir,” I said. “To begin with I didn't know what was going on and since all her relations are in another country it wasn't easy for me to get in touch with them.”
    “I quite realise,” said Mr. Lippincott, “that Greta posted certain letters and gave certain information to Mrs. van Stuyvesant and to myself as she was requested to do by Ellie here, and made, if I may say so, a very competent job of it. You have met Greta Andersen, Michael? I may call you Michael, since you are Ellie's husband.”
    “Of course,” I said, “call me Mike. No, I haven't met Miss Andersen.”
    “Indeed? That seems to me surprising.” He looked at me with a long thoughtful gaze. “I should have thought that she would have been present at your marriage.”
    “No, Greta wasn't there,” said Ellie. She threw me a look of reproach and I shifted uncomfortably.
    Mr. Lippincott's eyes were still resting on me thoughtfully. He made me uncomfortable. He seemed about to say something more then changed his mind.
    “I'm afraid,” he said after a moment or two, “that you two, Michael and Ellie, will have to put up with a certain amount of reproaches and criticism from Ellie's family.”
    “I suppose they are going to descend on me in a bunch,” said Ellie.
    “Very probably,” said Mr. Lippincott. “I've tried to pave the way,” he added.
    “You're on our side, Uncle Andrew?” said Ellie, smiling at