Free The Murder at Sissingham Hall by Clara Benson Page A

shrieked and laughed uproariously at some of Bobs’s past escapades, which he was recounting with great relish.
    ‘We were all talking last night about the Mason case,’ I said, ‘and between us were unable to agree on whether or not the accused is guilty.’
    ‘Much like the rest of England, I imagine,’ replied Mr. Pomfrey. ‘Did you reach a conclusion?’
    ‘Not at all. There was much debate about whether the crime was “in character”, so to speak. Some found it difficult to believe that a woman could have committed the murder at all. We tend to think of violence as being the preserve of men and although we all know that there have been many women murderers, they generally use more subtle weapons, such as poison. All the neighbours said that Aline Mason was a delightful girl. Somebody else must have done it, surely?’
    ‘It might seem so,’ he replied cautiously. ‘And yet, I myself can think of several examples in which a woman of apparently calm temper has resorted to violence.’
    ‘Yes, Joan was telling us of a school-mate of hers who did that,’ said Angela, who had been on the side of the ‘possibles’. ‘And I myself witnessed something of a similar nature, years ago, although in this case it was an instance of a child that lost its temper unexpectedly and beat a dog so savagely that it had to be destroyed.’
    ‘Indeed? Where was that?’
    ‘Oh, it was several years ago, in—in New York. The child belonged to some friends and had always been believed to have a particularly sunny nature.’ She looked as though she wished to say more but thought better of it.
    ‘What an odious child! I hope he was severely chastised,’ I said. ‘What became of him? Did he grow up to be a useful member of society?’
    ‘I believe so,’ said Angela, smiling.
    ‘Well, it just shows that you can never tell,’ said Mr. Pomfrey. ‘For myself, I am inclined to believe that Miss Mason did in fact kill her mother, although we may never find out the real truth. Juries often have a lot of sympathy for pretty young women who stand before them in the dock.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Angela. She looked thoughtful but said no more.
    The ladies soon retired and when we joined them, Sir Neville again stayed for only a short while before withdrawing to his study. This time, his departure caused no remark but I could not help thinking again about the conversation we had had the night before and wondering what he had meant when he had talked of ‘liars and schemers’.
    Once again, the gramophone was put to use, although nobody seemed to be in the mood for dancing. For some reason that I could not quite put my finger on, the atmosphere was one of general awkwardness: whereas last night we had all been very gay, tonight everyone seemed rather tetchy and gloomy. Various people wandered in and out of the room without making much effort to join in the conversation. Joan and Gwen had descended into a state of barely-concealed mutual hostility, while Bobs’s occasional attempts at jokes all fell flat and Sylvia sat in silence by the window. Only Angela and Mr. Pomfrey seemed unaffected; they sat together at one end of the room and chatted merrily.
    ‘Darlings, no wonder you’re all sitting there like the end of the world. This song is simply too dreary!’ exclaimed Rosamund, hurrying breathlessly into the room. She looked through the gramophone records and selected a much livelier air. ‘There! Now, which of you men would like to dance with me? Mr. Pomfrey, I know you won’t refuse!’
    Mr. Pomfrey gave a dry chuckle.
    ‘My dear Lady Strickland, I applaud your optimism but I fear the speed of this modern music would be quite too much for me. Perhaps Mr. Buckley will oblige instead for this song. However, if later on you should decide to play something more appropriate to my advanced age and declining energy, I assure you I shall be most honoured!’
    Bobs, as ever, was happy to oblige but despite the change of music, there