Free The March Hare Murders by Elizabeth Ferrars Page A

go with her and look at some of her work. Stella felt that she ought to be delighted that at last David had shown a desire for company other than his own, but she was not; she was worried and distraught. She went with them as far as the hall door. Deirdre suddenly turned, half-way down the path, and came back to Stella.
    “I want to talk to you sometime,” she said in a low voice. “When can I see you alone?”
    Stella moved back a step. She said evasively, “Any time, of course. I’ve got to go into the shops this morning, and this
    afternoon I’ve to go and see Mrs. Potter—I promised I would. I’ll ring you up later, shall I?”
    Deirdre looked at her thoughtfully. “Do,” she said after a moment. Then she turned and rejoined David.
    The moment they were out of the garden Stella was upstairs in David’s bedroom. Mrs. Scales had left it. She was in the bathroom, talking aloud to herself as she polished the bath. Stella closed the door and went quickly to the dressing-table. One after the other, she opened the drawers. The revolver was not in any of them.
    •   •   •   •   •
    Feeling that she did not want to be observed, Stella pushed open the door of S. & W. Fortis, Ltd., and stepped into the long tunnel of books. After a moment Winnfrieda Fortis, sleekly precise in her dark red suit with the garnet brooch on the lapel, walked forward out of the shadows and greeted her. “Oh, hallo, Stella. Sam and I are just having a cup of tea. Come along in and join us.” Without waiting for an answer, she led the way back to the office, a low, square room with a dusty window overlooking a small yard, enclosed by a high wall. A large dustbin, some empty packing-cases and a sad looking lilac bush filled the yard. On one of the packing-cases a large tabby cat was sitting, luxuriously licking its sides.
    Sam Fortis sat in a swivel-chair at a desk, nursing a cup of milkless tea in both hands. He had a big, pale triangle of a face, deeply lined, and a thin fringe of sandy hair, peppered with grey, covering the back of his head. When he raised his prominent grey eyebrows, wrinkles ran up to his forehead and faded out half-way across the bald top of his head, like ripples on a pond, raised by a stone. His eyes had a bright, hard stare. He was a short man but long in the body, so that as he sat at the desk he seemed to be tall. He wore a suit of greenish tweed, a navy blue woollen shirt, a yellow tie and sandals.
    When he saw Stella he exclaimed in a loud, harsh voice, “Why, how nice, how very nice! Why doesn’t this happen more often? What can we do for you, Stella, my dear?”
    “Pour out a cup of tea,” Winnfrieda answered, and pushed forward a battered basket-chair for Stella. “As a matter of fact, we were just talking about you, Stella.”
    “About me?” Stella sat down.
    “There’s no milk,” Sam Fortis said. “We don’t take milk, Winnfrieda and I. Can you drink tea without milk?”
    “Oh yes, thanks,” Stella said. “What were you saying?”
    “Sugar?”
    “No, thank you.”
    “A biscuit?”
    “Please—I——”
    “It’s a hot day, isn’t it? Where should we be without our tea?” Sam handed her a dainty blue and white cup. “Is tea one of your vices, Stella, my dear?”
    “I don’t think so,” Stella said. “Not particularly. But what——”
    “Winnfrieda and I drink it all day long. In fact we only keep a book-shop so that we can sit in the office drinking tea.”
    “Why do you need a book-shop to do that?” Stella asked.
    “Why? Well——” An eddy of wrinkles moved up Sam’s forehead. “I haven’t thought about why. I’ve always assumed it was one of those obvious things. One has to have a reason for things, but one needn’t ask why the reason’s a reason. One’s foolish to ask why about a thing like that.”
    “You always talk a good deal of nonsense,” Stella said absently, nibbling the biscuit he had given her.
    “You hear that?” Sam said to