“Can we get hold of this fellow and question him?” asked Colonel Julyan.
“Of course,” said Maxim. “Tell Robert to cut down to his mother’s cottage, Frank, and bring him back.”
Frank hesitated. I saw him glance at me out of the tail of his eye.
“Go on, for God’s sake,” said Maxim. “We want to end this thing, don’t we?” Frank went out of the room. I began to feel the old nagging pain beneath my heart.
In a few minutes Frank came back again into the room.
“Robert’s taken my car,” he said. “If Ben is at home he won’t be more than ten minutes.”
“The rain will keep him at home all right,” said Favell; “he’ll be there. And I think you will find I shall be able to make him talk.” He laughed, and looked at Maxim. His face was still very flushed. Excitement had made him sweat; there were beads of perspiration on his forehead. I noticed how his neck bulged over the back of his collar, and how low his ears were set on his head. Those florid good looks would not last him very long. Already he was out of condition, puffy. He helped himself to another cigarette. “You’re like a little trade union here at Manderley, aren’t you?” he said; “no one going to give anyone else away. Even the local magistrate is on the same racket. We must exempt the bride of course. A wife doesn’t give evidence against her husband. Crawley of course has been squared. He knows he would lose his job if he told the truth. And if I guess rightly there’s a spice of malice in his soul towards me too. You didn’t have much success with Rebecca, did you, Crawley? That garden path wasn’t quite long enough, eh? It’s a bit easier this time, isn’t it. The bride will be grateful for your fraternal arm every time she faints. When she hears the judge sentence her husband to death that arm of yours will come in very handy.”
It happened very quickly. Too quick for me to see how Maxim did it. But I saw Favell stagger and fall against the arm of the sofa, and down onto the floor. And Maxim was standing just beside him. I felt rather sick. There was something degrading in the fact that Maxim had hit Favell. I wished I had not known. I wished I had not been there to see. Colonel Julyan did not say anything. He looked very grim. He turned his back on them and came and stood beside me.
“I think you had better go upstairs,” he said quietly.
I shook my head. “No,” I whispered. “No.”
“That fellow is in a state capable of saying anything,” he said. “What you have just seen was not very attractive, was it? Your husband was right of course, but it’s a pity you saw it.”
I did not answer. I was watching Favell who was getting slowly to his feet. He sat down heavily on the sofa and put his handkerchief to his face.
“Get me a drink,” he said, “get me a drink.”
Maxim looked at Frank. Frank went out of the room. None of us spoke. In a moment Frank came back with the whiskey and soda on a tray. He mixed some in a glass and gave it to Favell. Favell drank it greedily, like an animal. There was something sensual and horrible the way he put his mouth to the glass. His lips folded upon the glass in a peculiar way. There was a dark red patch on his jaw where Maxim had hit him. Maxim had turned his back on him again and had returned to the window. I glanced at Colonel Julyan and saw that he was looking at Maxim. His gaze was curious, intent. My heart began beating very quickly. Why did Colonel Julyan look at Maxim in that way?
Did it mean that he was beginning to wonder, to suspect?
Maxim did not see. He was watching the rain. It fell straight and steady as before. The sound filled the room. Favell finished his whiskey and soda and put the glass back on the table beside the sofa. He was breathing heavily. He did not look at any of us. He was staring straight in front of him at the floor.
The telephone began ringing in the little room. It struck a shrill, discordant note. Frank went to answer it.
He came back at once and looked at Colonel Julyan. “It’s your daughter,” he said; “they want to know if they are to keep dinner back.”
Colonel Julyan waved his hand impatiently. “Tell them to start,” he said, “tell them I don’t know when I shall be back.” He glanced at his watch. “Fancy ringing up,” he muttered; “what a moment to choose.”
Frank went back into the little room to give the message. I thought of the daughter at the other end of the telephone. It would be the one who played golf. I could imagine her calling to her sister, “Dad says we’re to start. What on earth can he be doing? The steak will be like leather.” Their little household disorganized because of us. Their evening routine upset. All these foolish inconsequent threads hanging upon one another, because Maxim had killed Rebecca. I looked at Frank. His face was pale and set.