Читать книгу Death of My Aunt - C. H. B. Kitchin - Страница 5

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I awoke to find my uncle in his pyjamas standing by the doorway between our rooms.

“Is it late?” I murmured, and added, “Good morning,” as an after-thought.

“Late?” he said. “Not at all. I didn’t mean to wake you if you were still snoozing, but I thought I’d see if you wanted your bath now or after I’ve had mine.”

I was charmed by his solicitude.

“What time is it?”

“Half-past seven.”

“Oh, then I think I’ll have it later. Is that all right?”

“Quite,” he said, edging between the wardrobe and the dressing-table, and looking out of the window. “I think it’s going to be a fairly decent day. Well, I’ll go and have my bath now. I’ll tell Dace to call you at a quarter past eight. Sorry to have disturbed you.”

He went back into his room, and I fell asleep again to the sound of running water.

I seemed only to have been asleep for a few seconds when I was awakened by Dace bustling about the room.

“It’s a quarter past eight,” he said, in answer to my greeting. “What suit shall I put out?”

“The oat-coloured one. Plus fours.”

“And shirt?”

“Oh, the mauve. Has Mr. Cartwright finished in the bathroom?”

“Mr. Cartwright’s dressed and walking in the garden.”

“I’d better get up then. You might turn on the bath, will you?”

He nodded and went out. It was not because I was too modest to get out of bed in front of him that I had asked him to turn on the bath. But I suddenly remembered Aunt Catherine’s investment book, and thought it wise to lock the drawer in which it was hidden, and take the key with me to the bathroom. I not only disliked Dace for his rudeness, but distrusted him. Before going to the bathroom, therefore, I locked the book up and put the key in my dressing-gown pocket, together with my aunt’s letter, which was on the floor beside my bed. I took with me also the bureau key which I found lying on my handkerchief on the dressing-table. Its position struck me as a little odd. Evidently, in my excitement of the night before, I had put the key on the handkerchief instead of the handkerchief over the key.

I had an enjoyable bath, shaved and dressed, and did not forget to transfer the two keys and the letter from my dressing-gown to my day clothes. When I reached the dining-room, I found breakfast on the table, and my uncle eating toast and marmalade.

“Did you find what you wanted last night?” he asked.

“You mean the book?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, yes, quite easily.”

“Sleep well?”

“Er—yes.”

As he got up to leave the room, I asked him when I should see my aunt. He told me that her tray was taken up about half-past nine, as a rule, and that if I visited her an hour later I should be quite early enough. “I expect she’ll want to do a bit of titivating before she sees you,” he said.

“I might slip into the town first, then?” I asked. “There’s a bus, isn’t there, which passes the lodge gates every quarter of an hour?”

“Yes, there is. But if there’s anything you want, I’ll run you in on my motor-bike. I’ve got a bike and side-car of my own.”

His pride of ownership seemed to me rather pathetic. He was evidently reluctant to order Aunt Catherine’s motor.

“I should like that,” I said, thinking that it would please him if I admired his toy. “But it will be rather a bore for you, won’t it? I wanted to get some papers.”

“All right. I’ll go round to the garage now and see that she’s running well. We use Dace so much indoors that I do odd jobs myself. I’ll be round in twenty minutes. That give you time?”

“Rather.”

He went out, and I finished my breakfast and looked at the Morning Post, which he had put beside my plate. A few minutes later, I heard the motor-bicycle coming round to the front door. It was a shabby little combination, bought by Uncle Hannibal, probably, out of his own savings, without my aunt’s assistance. I fetched my hat, and got into the side-car.

“How about some golf this afternoon?” he asked.

“Yes. I haven’t brought my clubs, and I’m not like Bob at the game, you know. I expect he’s very good, isn’t he?”

“I believe so. Haven’t played with him myself. I don’t play on the town links. I usually go to Fernley, about nine miles out.”

Another instance of the cold shoulder, I thought. Poor Uncle Hannibal.

Half-way to the town, we passed Uncle Terence’s house.

“I suppose,” I said, “I ought to call on the Carvels some time.”

“I must stop there on the way back,” he said, “as yer aunt asked me to call and see how Anne got on yesterday. Do just as you like. I shall only be a few minutes. But I think Bob will have gone to the office.”

“Well, I’ll see,” I answered. “Perhaps it’s rather soon after breakfast to begin paying calls.”

We reached the shops, and after calling at a stationer’s, where I bought the Financial Times, the Investor’s Chronicle, and the Nation, I was reminded by a chemist’s window, full of patent medicine in brilliant bottles, that I had forgotten to bring a nail-brush with me. The one which I had left in London was almost worn-out, and I decided to buy a new one. My uncle did no shopping for himself, but waited about at my convenience. It was ten minutes past ten when we stopped at Yew House, where the Carvels lived. Rather than risk being caught by Muriel and Hetty while waiting for my uncle, I started to walk on to Otho House, expecting him to overtake me. He did not do so, and I arrived at Otho House before half-past ten. There, after preparing one or two little speeches while taking a turn in the garden, I went up to my room, put the nail-brush, still in its wrappings, on the dressing-table, and knocked at my aunt’s door.