Free The Polo Ground Mystery by Robin Forsythe Page B

yes, that’s why I’m here. I’m awfully sorry.”
    â€œPlease don’t condole with me. Polite hypocrisy in another makes me more uncomfortable than it does in myself. My uncle was never very fond of me, and towards him my feelings were no stronger. Some realist has said that a large legacy assuages grief. I had damned little grief to assuage, and my uncle, to my surprise, left me all his fortune and this rather jolly estate to assuage it with. I feel like a child who has suddenly been given the moon.”
    â€œThen let me congratulate you heartily,” said Vereker.
    â€œThanks,” replied Ralli solemnly; “the sentiment fits better with my feelings and the facts. I see you’re naturally not a humbug. But are you staying anywhere in the neighbourhood?”
    â€œI’ve taken a room at the ‘Silver Pear Tree.’”
    â€œOh. I hear it’s a comfortable enough inn, but old inns frighten me. Parasitism even on the comic ad infinitum basis scares me stiff.”
    â€œYou don’t say the place is buggy?” asked Vereker, with sudden alarm.
    â€œI know nothing about it and wouldn’t like to venture an opinion, but while you’re engaged on this investigation stunt, won’t you accept our hospitality and stay at the manor? My Aunt Angela will be delighted to welcome any friend of mine, and we’re certainly not buggy!”
    â€œIt’s very good of you, Ralli. I shall probably be glad to accept your invitation. In the meantime, I hope you’ll leave it open. I can’t decide on the spur of the moment.”
    â€œCertainly, Vereker, certainly. Don’t hesitate to come and explore the place if you think it’ll help in your detective business. The sooner you get to the bottom of this appalling mess the better Angela and I shall be pleased.”
    â€œYou’re sure Mrs. Armadale won’t mind?”
    â€œAbsolutely certain. She’s anxious to help all she can.”
    â€œSplendid! Incidentally I’m rather eager to see your late uncle’s collection of modern French paintings.”
    â€œYou’re welcome. They’re in a gallery by themselves. Angela calls it the ‘Museum of Psychopathy,’ rather aptly, I think. Why not come up and lunch with me to-morrow? I shall be alone. Angela has gone to Sutton Pragnell for a day or two. She’s terribly upset.”
    â€œThanks, I’ll turn up. In the meantime, I’ll continue further to trespass on your grounds.”
    â€œGo anywhere you like. If Collyer catches you in any of the coverts he’ll take you by the scruff of the neck and fling you out. While you’re struggling with him, try and explain that you have my permission. Au revoir. We lunch at one.”
    With these words, Mr. Basil Ralli turned, and opening a wooden door in the north wall passed through and closed the door behind him. Vereker heard him fasten the door by pushing two bolts into their sockets, and then wandered leisurely on his way towards Wild Duck Wood. The contretemps had been so unexpected and his embarrassment at seeing a pretty woman frankly hugged and kissed so acute that for some minutes he could not dismiss the subject from his mind. His embarrassment had risen from the fact that he had felt his presence at the moment something of a boorish intrusion. He figuratively kicked himself for his clumsiness, a clumsiness of inadvertence, and inadvertence was frequently equivalent to faulty manners. Ralli’s smile had saved the situation. He recalled that smile. How pleasantly it had lit up the olive-skinned face, with a flash of perfect teeth and the sparkle of dark humorous eyes. The face was not English; the whole cast of countenance was Mediterranean. Ralli’s mother was Sutton Armadale’s sister, but Basil Ralli must have taken after his father. And, brief as had been their meeting, Vereker had learned the startling news that Sutton Armadale had left his