Free Spinsters in Jeopardy by Ngaio Marsh Page A

wound her left arm behind her head and seized her right ear. Having achieved this unlikely posture, she gazed devotedly upon Mr. Oberon. “Is it all right, dearest Ra,” she asked, “for me to press quietly on with my Prana and Pranayama?”
    “It is well at all times, dear Sati, if the spirit also is attuned.”
    Troy couldn’t resist stealing a glance at Ginny Taylor and Robin Herrington. Was it possible that they found nothing to marvel at in these antics? Ginny was looking doubtfully at Sati, and young Herrington was looking at Ginny as if, Troy thought with relief, he invited her to be amused with him.
    “Ginny?” Mr. Oberon said quietly.
    The beginning of a smile died on Ginny’s lips. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “Yes, Ra?”
    “Have you formed a design for today?”
    “No. At least… this afternoon…”
    “I thought, if it suited general arrangements,” Robin Herrington said, “that I might ask Ginny to come into Douceville this afternoon. I want her to tell me what colour I should have for new awnings on the after-deck.”
    But Ginny had got up and walked past Troy to Mr. Oberon. She stood before him white-faced with the dark marks showing under her eyes.
    “Are you going, then, to Douceville?” he asked. “You look a little pale, my child. We were so late with our gaieties last night. Should you rest this afternoon?”
    He was looking at her as he had looked at Troy.
    “I think perhaps I should,” she said in a flat voice.
    “I, too. The colour of the awnings can wait until the colour of the cheeks is restored. Perhaps Annabella would enjoy a drive to Douceville. Annabella Wells,” he explained to Troy, “is with us. Her latest picture is completed and she is to make a film for Durant Frères in the spring.”
    Troy was not much interested in the presence of a notoriously erratic if brilliant actress. She had been watching young Herrington, whose brows were drawn together in a scowl. He got up and stood behind Ginny, looking at Oberon over the top of her head. His hands closed and he thrust them into his pockets.
    “I thought a drive might be a good idea for Ginny,” he said.
    But Ginny had sunk down on the end of the li-low at Mr. Oberon’s feet. She settled herself there quietly, with an air of obedience. Mr Oberon said to Troy: “Robin has a most wonderful yacht. You must ask him to show it to you.” He put his hand on Ginny’s head.
    “I should be delighted,” said Robin and sounded furious. He had turned aside and now added in a loud voice: “Why not this afternoon? I still think Ginny should come to Douceville.”
    Troy knew that something had happened that was unusual between Mr. Oberon and his guests and that Robin Herrington was frightened as well as angry. She wanted to give him courage. Her heart thumped against her ribs.
    In the dead silence they all heard someone come quickly up the stone stairway. When Alleyn opened the door their heads were already turned towards him.
     
    iii
    He waited for a moment to accustom his eyes to the glare and during that moment he and the five people whose faces were turned toward him were motionless.
    One grows scarcely to see one’s lifelong companions and it is more difficult to call up the face of one’s beloved than that of a mere acquaintance. Troy had never been able to make a memory-drawing of her husband. Yet, at that moment, it was as if a veil of familiarity was withdrawn and she looked at him with fresh perception.
    She thought: “I’ve never been gladder to see him.”
    “This is my husband,” she said.
    Mr. Oberon had risen and come forward. He was five inches shorter than Alleyn. For the first time Troy thought him ridiculous as well as disgusting.
    He held out his hand. “We’re so glad to meet you at last. The news is good?”
    “Dr. Baradi will be able to tell you better than I,” Alleyn said. “Her condition was pretty bad. He says she will be very ill.”
    “We shall all help her,” Mr. Oberon said,