Free The Murder at Sissingham Hall by Clara Benson Page B

still seemed to be something wrong with us all. I wondered what it was and could only suppose at last that it had something to do with the arrival of the solicitor—or rather, what he potentially represented, since he himself was perfectly inoffensive.
    When the song had finished, a slower one was found and Rosamund insisted that Mr. Pomfrey keep his promise, which he did with great solemnity. Ever the perfect hostess, she seemed determined that we should all be happy. She danced with all the men in turn, though none of the other women showed an inclination to join in and kept up a constant flow of gay chatter, first with one of us, then another. I admired her activity enormously and was surprised and pleased to find that her efforts were proving successful, as the atmosphere began to lighten perceptibly. Having danced until she was breathless, she then coaxed us into playing a game of Consequences, which had us all roaring with laughter by the end.
    ‘Oh!’ said Rosamund, wiping her eyes after one particularly silly round. ‘I must remember to play this game the next time my guests are bored and threatening to leave! I declare I haven’t played this since I was a child but I am glad I remembered it.’
    ‘Perhaps we can get Neville to come and play,’ suggested Joan. ‘It might cheer him up a bit.’
    ‘What a good idea!’ said Rosamund, after a pause. ‘Charles, you shall come with me and help me persuade him. He may be grumpy with me but he can’t say no to a guest, can he?’
    She pulled me out of the room before I could protest and ran lightly ahead of me along to the study.
    ‘Bother! Why on earth has he locked the door?’ she said. She knocked and listened.
    ‘Darling, do leave those fusty old papers and come along to the drawing-room,’ she said loudly. She grimaced and shook her head at me as I approached. ‘Are you sure?’ she called. ‘Well, then, don’t stay up too late.’
    She turned to me with a rueful look and we returned along the passage to the hall. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with him this week,’ she said. ‘It’s really too bad of him to desert his guests but I can’t do a thing with him when he is in this mood.’
    We were met in the hall by Hugh MacMurray, who had just come in through a side door.
    ‘Hallo!’ said Rosamund. ‘We’ve just been trying to persuade Neville to come and join us but he refused, didn’t he, Charles?’
    ‘Yes,’ I agreed.
    ‘Old Neville being stubborn, what?’ said MacMurray. ‘That’s a shame. We shall all have to cheer him up. Brrr!’ he continued, with a shiver. ‘It’s jolly cold out there! I shall need a stiff drink to warm myself.’
    ‘Good gracious! Whatever possessed you to go outside at this time of the evening?’ said Rosamund.
    ‘Oh, I just wanted a breath of fresh air, you know. It was getting rather stuffy in the drawing-room,’ he replied. I thought he looked a little sheepish.
    ‘Any luck?’ asked Joan as we returned to the drawing-room.
    ‘None at all. He insists on remaining buried in his papers. Well, we shall just have to continue our fun without him.’
    But it looked as though the lightening of mood had been only temporary. Nobody wanted to play another game of Consequences and Rosamund proposed cards in vain. Joan went out and came back with a book, while Simon Gale went off, murmuring about some work that he needed to finish and Bobs disappeared on mysterious business of his own.
    ‘I want some more music!’ said Gwen, a little too loudly. She had been drinking steadily all evening and was now swaying with great concentration over to the gramophone.
    ‘Must we?’ said Joan. ‘I’ve a splitting headache.’
    ‘What headache? You never mentioned it when we were playing the music before,’ said Gwen.
    ‘I didn’t have it before. It only came on a few minutes ago.’
    ‘How very convenient,’ said Gwen. There was a dangerous edge to her voice which sounded a warning note.
    ‘What do you