Free The Case of the Gilded Fly by Edmund Crispin Page A

gloomily.)
    Robert continued: ‘Of course, I shan’t see you at rehearsal today, but as I imagine there’s something you’d like to talk to me about –’
    She raised her eyebrows. ‘I, darling? Nothing in the world. You sound so conspiratorial – doesn’t he, Nigel? As though you wanted to slip me a cheque for blackmail. If you do, I’m sure the others won’t mind. But of course. I’m not accepting any cheques or doing any blackmail; it’s so unwise, and it’s much, much better that the truth should be known.’
    â€˜What are you talking about, Yseut?’ demanded Donald abruptly.
    â€˜Nothing, darling. Only a joke. A private joke.’
    â€˜I’ve got to go now,’ Donald muttered awkwardly.
    â€˜Oh, must you, Donald? Are you going to practise your organ? Be sure and play nicely.’
    Donald rose, picked up his music, and stood looking at her for a moment. Then with a brusque movement he turned on his heel and went. Yseut smiled after him.
    â€˜A sweet boy,’ she said, ‘but just a tiny bit gauche. Let me get you both another drink.’
    Nigel rose automatically.
    â€˜What are you having? Rye and dry? Come to the bar with me, Nigel, and help me carry them back.’
    On the way to the bar Yseut continued to look back over her shoulder and smiled at Robert. Arrived there, she propped herself up with her back to it and left Nigel to do the ordering.
    Unfortunately, just as the barman was giving Nigel Yseut’s brandy, it slipped from his fingers and spilt on the bar. He hurriedly pulled her away, but was not in time to prevent some of it running on to her blouse.
    â€˜Blast!’ she said. ‘You clumsy fool! For God’s sake give me a handkerchief to wipe it off.’
    Nigel gave her the handkerchief, without finding himself able to feel a shred of remorse at the incident, and ordered another brandy while she scrubbed ineffectually at the cloth. He suddenly felt extremely ill – no doubt a belated after-effect of the party – and very, very weary of Yseut and everyone who had to do with her. A fit of morose irritability seized him: I wish to God they’d all go and hang themselves, he thought.
    They went back to Robert with the drinks (for which Yseut had conveniently forgotten to pay). Nigel saw her take a swift look about her, and then stiffen and flush furiously. She looked at Robert with eyes so full of hatred that tears sprang into them against her will.
    â€˜Damn you!’ she said. And literally throwing her drink on to the table she snatched up her bag and left.
    There was genuine bewilderment on Robert’s face.
    â€˜Well, for heaven’s sake!’ he exclaimed. ‘What on earth –?’
    Nigel grunted and sat down. ‘Good riddance,’ he said wearily, and swallowed a double whisky neat. Not unnaturally, this made him feel more sick than ever, and he was relieved when Rachel came in and he could decently excuse himself. Obviously she wanted to talk to Robert alone, and the conversation was perfunctory until he rose to go.
    â€˜You won’t forget my message to Helen?’ he said.
    â€˜Message?’ answered Robert vaguely. ‘Oh, yes, of course. No, I won’t forget.’
    â€˜Good-bye, then.’
    Rachel gave him a ghost of a smile.
    â€˜Arrivederci,’ said Robert.
    â€˜Arrivederci,’ he echoed; and went.
    A hypocritical farewell, he said savagely to himself, as he pushed through the swing-doors into the street and made for St Christopher’s: I should be delighted if I never saw any of them again. Let them all squabble their beastly heads off. Let them shoot each other with stolen revolvers, and I’m damned if I shall care. But they won’t have the guts even to do that. It’s all superficial and conventional and merely stupid. They wouldn’t have the guts.
    But he was wrong. For now on the borders of the mind the jackals and