“Oh, rather,” said Frank. “I used to write poetry myself when I was his age. Awful nonsense too. I never write any now.”
“Good heavens, I should hope not,” said Maxim.
“I don’t know where my boy gets it from,” said Colonel Julyan; “certainly not from his mother or from me.”
There was another long silence. Colonel Julyan had a second dip into the casserole. “Mrs. Lacy looked very well the other night,” he said.
“Yes,” I said.
“Her dress came adrift as usual,” said Maxim.
“Those Eastern garments must be the devil to manage,” said Colonel Julyan, “and yet they say, you know, they are far more comfortable and far cooler than anything you ladies wear in England.”
“Really?” I said.
“Yes, so they say. It seems all that loose drapery throws off the hot rays of the sun.”
“How curious,” said Frank; “you’d think it would have just the opposite effect.”
“No, apparently not,” said Colonel Julyan.
“Do you know the East, sir?” said Frank.
“I know the Far East,” said Colonel Julyan. “I was in China for five years. Then Singapore.”
“Isn’t that where they make the curry?” I said.
“Yes, they gave us very good curry in Singapore,” he said.
“I’m fond of curry,” said Frank.
“Ah, it’s not curry at all in England, it’s hash,” said Colonel Julyan.
The plates were cleared away. A soufflé was handed, and a bowl of fruit salad. “I suppose you are coming to the end of your raspberries,” said Colonel Julyan. “It’s been a wonderful summer for them, hasn’t it? We’ve put down pots and pots of jam.”
“I never think raspberry jam is a great success,” said Frank; “there are always so many pips.”
“You must come and try some of ours,” said Colonel Julyan. “I don’t think we have a great lot of pips.”
“We’re going to have a mass of apples this year at Manderley,” said Frank. “I was saying to Maxim a few days ago we ought to have a record season. We shall be able to send a lot up to London.”
“Do you really find it pays?” said Colonel Julyan; “by the time you’ve paid your men for the extra labor, and then the packing, and carting, do you make any sort of profit worthwhile?”
“Oh, Lord, yes,” said Frank.
“How interesting. I must tell my wife,” said Colonel Julyan.
The soufflé and the fruit salad did not take long to finish. Robert appeared with cheese and biscuits, and a few minutes later Frith came with the coffee and cigarettes. Then they both went out of the room and shut the door. We drank our coffee in silence. I gazed steadily at my plate.
“I was saying to your wife before luncheon, de Winter,” began Colonel Julyan, resuming his first quiet confidential tone, “that the awkward part of this whole distressing business is the fact that you identified that original body.”
“Yes, quite,” said Maxim.
“I think the mistake was very natural under the circumstances,” said Frank quickly. “The authorities wrote to Maxim, asking him to go up to Edgecoombe, presupposing before he arrived there that the body was hers. And Maxim was not well at the time. I wanted to go with him, but he insisted on going alone. He was not in a fit state to undertake anything of the sort.”
“That’s nonsense,” said Maxim. “I was perfectly well.”
“Well, it’s no use going into all that now,” said Colonel Julyan. “You made that first identification, and now the only thing to do is to admit the error. There seems to be no doubt about it this time.”
“No,” said Maxim.
“I wish you could be spared the formality and the publicity of an inquest,” said Colonel Julyan, “but I’m afraid that’s quite impossible.”
“Naturally,” said Maxim.
“I don’t think it need take very long,” said Colonel Julyan. “It’s just a case of you re-affirming identification, and then getting Tabb, who you say converted the boat when your wife brought her from France, just to give his piece of evidence that the boat was seaworthy and in good order when he last had her in his yard. It’s just red tape, you know. But it has to be done. No, what bothers me is the wretched publicity of the affair. So sad and unpleasant for you and your wife.”
“That’s quite all right,” said Maxim. “We understand.”