Free The Coldstone by Patricia Wentworth

decidedly. She had heard a ring at the bell.
    Miss Arabel got up. She was very pale.
    â€œThank you,” she said gently. “I think I must go now.”
    On the way downstairs Nurse Collins recollected another of those disjointed sentences. “She can have it now she’s going,” she said to herself. The bell had just rung for the second time, and she believed in keeping gentlemen waiting. She kept Mr. Garry O’Connell waiting whilst she told Miss Arabel what she had just remembered.

CHAPTER TEN
    Miss Arabel walked a little way up the street. It had been cloudy when she came, but the clouds had all slipped down into the east, where they lay in banks of a heavy grey, flecked with white and barred with indigo. All the rest of the sky was a bare dusty blue. The air between the houses shook in the heat.
    Miss Arabel felt quite dazed with the light, and the glare, and the thing which Nurse O’Connell had just said to her. She walked with small, hesitating footsteps, and though her eyes were wide open, she did not really see where she was going until her shoulder struck hard against a lamppost and brought her up short with a gasp. As she stood there trying not to cry—it would be too dreadful if she were to cry in the open street—she looked very small and frail.
    Anthony Colstone stopped the car and jumped out. He was most frightfully glad he had thought of coming back. He put a hand on her arm and said,
    â€œCousin Arabel—”
    She looked up at him with swimming eyes.
    â€œThe heat—” she murmured. And then she was being helped into the car, and the fresh air began to blow in her face. She heard Anthony talking, as one hears some pleasant sound a long way off.
    â€œI saw you go in, and I went on a bit. And then I thought I’d come back and find out if I couldn’t drive you home, and then—”
    Miss Arabel sat up with a cry. “Oh, the keys!” she said. “I forgot!”
    â€œWhat is it? Do you want to go back?”
    â€œOh no—I couldn’t ask you. So careless! But Agatha—Oh dear me, what will Agatha say?” She presented a little pale picture of dismay in her old lady’s bonnet and black silk cape.
    â€œLook here, we’ll go back, and then there won’t be anything for Cousin Agatha to say.”
    Miss Arabel fluttered, protested, thanked him profusely, and kept up a persistent twitter of explanation as he turned the car and drove back.
    â€œIt was only—it was the keys—Lane has been so put out about them. But perhaps he didn’t like to speak of it to you. And Agatha said—you see she was called away—Nurse Collins was called away immediately—the very day Papa died—and Agatha had let her have the keys—the front door key and the gate—Papa’s own keys—so that she could go out and come back without ringing—because Lane had been up all night. And she went off suddenly like that and forgot to give them back. And when we wrote, she said she was sorry but she must have left them packed up in her box and she couldn’t let the landlady open it, so I promised Agatha—”
    The car stopped and Anthony jumped out.
    â€œI’ll get them. Sit still.”
    He had to ring twice. Then the door opened, and Miss Collins got what she called a start.
    â€œBlessed if I didn’t think the old lady had come back to begin all over again! I could see her there in the car with her mouth open all ready—and Mr. Colstone.”
    â€œWhat does he want?” said Garry O’Connell.
    â€œSsh! He’ll hear you—he’s at the door. Wanted to come up, but I wouldn’t let him.” She came quite close to him and dropped her voice. “I say, he wants those keys—you know—what you borrowed. Have you got them? I was on thorns for fear the old lady’d ask for them while she was here.”
    Mr. Garry O’Connell dived into his trouser