Free Silence in Court by Patricia Wentworth

hasn’t got a wife.”
    Ellen tossed her head.
    â€œThat’s not to say he won’t never have one, is it?”
    Mrs. Maquisten laughed.
    â€œAnd it’s not to say I’d want to give her my rubies if he had. Perhaps I shouldn’t like her.”
    â€œThen you should let Miss Honor have them. They come from Maquistens, and you didn’t ought to leave them out of the family.”
    Carey said, “ Please , Cousin Honoria—” and saw a flare of temper send up danger signals to burn Honoria Maquisten’s cheeks. Curiously enough, the colour made her look old, accentuating the cheek-bones, giving the effect of patchy make-up. In a voice edged with anger she said,
    â€œKeep quiet, both of you! When I want advice I’ll ask for it, and when I want a sermon, Ellen, I’ll tell you. Put the things away and be done with it!”
    Then, as Ellen went round to the safe again, she caught at Carey’s hand and held it against her cheek for a moment.
    â€œProud, obstinate creature.”
    Carey nodded. She had to bite her lip to keep back a smile. All at once it beat her.
    Honoria Maquisten smiled too, and said in mock reproof,
    â€œPride goes before a fall, Carey.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    November 16th was like any other November day—a dark reluctant morning, a touch of fog in the heavy air, the disintegrating damp and cold which mark the slow decay of autumn. There was nothing to single it out. Yet it was a day whose shadow was to stretch a long, long way. No one in the house would ever see the date again without an inward shudder and recoil. It began pleasantly enough. Nora went off gaily to drive her general. Honor departed to pack parcels, and as Dennis remarked, that cleared the air. And presently, after some time spent with Cousin Honoria, Carey and he went out to lunch together.
    It is from lunch-time onwards that the shadow begins to fall across the day, darkening and confusing its happenings. Some points emerge beyond dispute. Molly James, passing through the hall, saw a letter lying on the mat just inside the front door, the metal cage originally in use having been given in for salvage. She picked it up, saw that it had no stamp, and that it was addressed to Mrs. Maquisten. She went upstairs with it, knocked at the bedroom door, and took it in. She puts the time at between a quarter and half past two. On her way back to the door Mrs. Maquisten called her with a dreadful voice. In all the times she had to tell her story Molly never varied from this word—Mrs. Maquisten’s voice was dreadful, and she looked dreadful too. She asked if either of her nieces was in, and Molly said that they were not. Then she asked for Mr. Harland, and Molly said he was out to lunch. Last of all she asked for Miss Carey, and Molly said she was out too. Then Mrs. Maquisten said, “Tell her to come to me the minute she comes in,” and Molly said, “Yes, ma’am,” and got herself out of the room as quick as she could go. She told Mrs. Deeping not once but many times that she was glad to be the other side of the door—“And somebody’s going to catch it—you see if they don’t. I wouldn’t be Miss Carey.”
    Carey came home at a quarter to three. She wore a blue coat with a faint over-check of green and black buttoned right up to her chin, and a small tilted blue hat with a bright green quill. Her eyes shone and her cheeks glowed. Lunch had been very amusing. Dennis had been very amusing. Life was very amusing. She ran up the steps of No. 13 and let herself in with the latch-key which Cousin Honoria had given her. She was humming a tune. And then Molly was telling her that she was wanted at once, and she stopped humming and ran upstairs, a little disquieted, a little dashed from her morning brightness.
    Since Honoria Maquisten did not live to give any account of the interview which followed, it rests upon what Carey said about it