Death in a White Tie

‘It’s perfectly obvious that the man has been murdered. Do you realize that at any moment we’ll have some damned fellow from Scotland Yard cross-questioning us and that all the scavengers in Fleet Street will be hanging about our door for days together? Do you realize—’

‘I think he was perhaps my greatest friend,’ said Evelyn Carrados.

‘If you look at their damned impertinent drivel on page five you will see the friendship well advertised. My God, it’s intolerable. Do you realize that the police rang up Marsdon House at quarter-past four—five minutes after we’d gone, thank God!—and asked when Robert Gospell left? Some fellow of Dimitri’s answered them and now a blasted snivelling journalist has got hold of it. Do you realize—’

‘I only realize,’ said Evelyn Carrados, ‘that Bunchy Gospell is dead.’

Bridget burst into the room, a paper in her hands.

‘Donna! Oh, Donna—it’s our funny little Bunchy. Our funny little Bunchy’s dead! Donna!’

‘Darling—I know.’

‘But, Donna—Bunchy!’

‘Bridget,’ said her stepfather, ‘please don’t be hysterical. The point we have to consider is—’

Bridget’s arm went round her mother’s shoulders.

‘But we mind’ she said. ‘Can’t you see—Donna minds awfully.’

Her mother said: ‘Of course we mind, darling, but Bart’s thinking about something else. You see, Bart thinks there will be dreadful trouble—’

‘About what?’

Bridget’s eyes blazed in her white face as she turned on Carrados.

‘Do you mean Donald? Do you? Do you dare to suggest that Donald would—would—’

‘Bridgie!’ cried her mother, ‘what are you saying!’

‘Wait a moment, Evelyn,’ said Carrados. ‘What is all this about young Potter?’

Bridget pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, looked distractedly from her mother to her stepfather, burst into tears and ran out of the room.

II

‘BUNCHY’ GOSPELL DEAD

Mysterious death in Taxi

Sequel to the Carrados Ball

Mrs Halcut-Hackett’s beautifully manicured hands closed like claws on the newspaper. Her lips were stretched in a smile that emphasized the carefully suppressed lines from her nostrils to the corners of her mouth. She stared at nothing.

General Halcut-Hackett’s dressing-room door was flung open and the General, wearing a dressing-gown but few teeth, marched into the room. He carried a copy of a ten o’clock sporting edition.

‘What!’ he shouted indistinctly. ‘See here! By God!’

‘I know,’ said Mrs Halcut-Hackett. ‘Sad, isn’t it?’

‘Sad! Bloody outrage! What!’

‘Shocking,’ said Mrs Halcut-Hackett.

‘Shocking!’ echoed the General. ‘Preposterous!’ and the explosive consonants pronounced through the gap in his teeth blew his moustache out like a banner. His bloodshot eyes goggled at his wife. He pointed a stubby forefinger at her.

‘He said he’d bring you home,’ he spluttered.

‘He didn’t do so.’

‘When did you come home?’

‘I didn’t notice. Late.’

‘Alone?’

Her face was white but she looked steadily at him. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Don’t be a fool.’

III

STRANGE FATALITY

Lord Robert Gospell dies

after Ball

Full Story

Donald Potter read the four headlines over and over again. From the centre of the page his uncle’s face twinkled at him. Donald’s cigarette-butt burnt his lips. He spat it into his empty cup, and lit another. He was shivering as if he had a rigor. He read the four lines again. In the next room somebody yawned horribly.

Donald’s head jerked back.

‘Wits!’ he said. ‘Wits! Come here!’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Come here!’

Captain Withers, clad in an orange silk dressing-gown, appeared in the doorway. ‘What the hell’s the matter with you?’ he enquired. ‘Look here.’

Captain Withers, whistling between his teeth, strolled up and looked over Donald’s shoulder. His whistling stopped. He reached out his hand, took the newspaper, and began to read. Donald watched him.

‘Dead!’ said Donald. ‘Uncle Bunch! Dead!’

Withers glanced at him and returned to the paper. Presently he began again to whistle through his teeth.

IV