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Rebecca(149)

Author:Daphne Du Maurier

Frank glanced at my face, he went swiftly towards the door.

I heard Maxim’s voice, very cool, very calm. “I want Kerrith 17,” he said.

Favell was watching the door, his face curiously intense.

“Leave me alone,” I heard Maxim say to Frank. And then, two minutes afterwards. “Is that Colonel Julyan speaking? It’s de Winter here. Yes. Yes, I know. I wonder if you could possibly come over here at once. Yes, to Manderley. It’s rather urgent. I can’t explain why on the telephone, but you shall hear everything directly you come. I’m very sorry to have to drag you out. Yes. Thank you very much. Goodbye.”

He came back again into the room. “Julyan is coming right away,” he said. He crossed over and threw open the windows. It was still raining very hard. He stood there, with his back to us, breathing the cold air.

“Maxim,” said Frank quietly. “Maxim.”

He did not answer. Favell laughed, and helped himself to another cigarette. “If you want to hang yourself, old fellow, it’s all the same to me,” he said. He picked up a paper from the table and flung himself down on the sofa, crossed his legs, and began to turn over the pages. Frank hesitated, glancing from me to Maxim. Then he came beside me.

“Can’t you do something?” I whispered. “Go out and meet Colonel Julyan, prevent him from coming, say it was all a mistake?”

Maxim spoke from the window without turning round.

“Frank is not to leave this room,” he said. “I’m going to manage this thing alone. Colonel Julyan will be here in exactly ten minutes.”

We none of us said anything. Favell went on reading his paper. There was no sound but the steady falling rain. It fell without a break, steady, straight, and monotonous. I felt helpless, without strength. There was nothing I could do. Nothing that Frank could do. In a book or in a play I would have found a revolver, and we should have shot Favell, hidden his body in a cupboard. There was no revolver. There was no cupboard. We were ordinary people. These things did not happen. I could not go to Maxim now and beg him on my knees to give Favell the money. I had to sit there, with my hands in my lap, watching the rain, watching Maxim with his back turned to me, standing by the window.

It was raining too hard to hear the car. The sound of the rain covered all other sounds. We did not know Colonel Julyan had arrived until the door opened, and Frith showed him into the room.

Maxim swung round from the window. “Good evening,” he said. “We meet again. You’ve made very good time.”

“Yes,” said Colonel Julyan, “you said it was urgent, so I came at once. Luckily, my man had left the car handy. What an evening.”

He glanced at Favell uncertainly, and then came over and shook hands with me, nodding to Maxim. “A good thing the rain has come,” he said. “It’s been hanging about too long. I hope you’re feeling better.”

I murmured something, I don’t know what, and he stood there looking from one to the other of us, rubbing his hands.

“I think you realize,” Maxim said, “that I haven’t brought you out on an evening like this for a social half hour before dinner. This is Jack Favell, my late wife’s first cousin. I don’t know if you have ever met.”

Colonel Julyan nodded. “Your face seems familiar. I’ve probably met you here in the old days.”

“Quite,” said Maxim. “Go ahead, Favell.”

Favell got up from the sofa and chucked the paper back on the table. The ten minutes seemed to have sobered him. He walked quite steadily. He was not smiling any longer. I had the impression that he was not entirely pleased with the turn in the events, and he was ill-prepared for the encounter with Colonel Julyan. He began speaking in a loud, rather domineering voice. “Look here, Colonel Julyan,” he said, “there’s no sense in beating about the bush. The reason why I’m here is that I’m not satisfied with the verdict given at the inquest this afternoon.”

“Oh?” said Colonel Julyan, “isn’t that for de Winter to say, not you?”

“No, I don’t think it is,” said Favell. “I have a right to speak, not only as Rebecca’s cousin, but as her prospective husband, had she lived.”

Colonel Julyan looked rather taken aback. “Oh,” he said. “Oh, I see. That’s rather different. Is this true, de Winter?”

Maxim shrugged his shoulders. “It’s the first I’ve heard of it,” he said.

Colonel Julyan looked from one to the other doubtfully. “Look here, Favell,” he said, “what exactly is your trouble?”