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Page 29
"Oh, rather. Dozens of times."
"I meant just here where we are now. Or do you stay indoors and
play billiards all the time?"
"Oh Lord, no!"
"Well, tennis and things. So many people with beautiful parks
never by any chance use them, and all the poor devils passing by
on the dusty road think how lucky the owners are to have them,
and imagine them doing all sorts of jolly things inside." He
pointed to the right. "Ever been over there?"
Bill laughed, as if a little ashamed.
"Well, not very much. I've often been along here, of course,
because it's the short way to the village."
"Yes .... All right; now tell me something about Mark."
"What sort of things?"
"Well, never mind about his being your host, or about your being
a perfect gentleman, or anything like that. Cut out the Manners
for Men, and tell me what you think of Mark, and how you like
staying with him, and how many rows your little house-party has
had this week, and how you get on with Cayley, and all the rest
of it."
Bill looked at him eagerly.
"I say, are you being the complete detective?"
"Well, I wanted a new profession," smiled the other.
"What fun! I mean," he corrected himself apologetically, "one
oughtn't to say that, when there's a man dead in the house, and
one's host--" He broke off a little uncertainly, and then
rounded off his period by saying again, "By Jove, what a rum show
it is. Good Lord!"
"Well?" said Antony. "Carry on, Mark"
"What do I think of him?"
"Yes."
Bill was silent, wondering how to put into words thoughts which
had never formed themselves very definitely in his own mind.
What did he think of Mark? Seeing his hesitation, Antony said:
"I ought to have warned you that nothing that you say will be
taken down by the reporters, so you needn't bother about a split
infinitive or two. Talk about anything you like, how you like.
Well, I'll give you a start. Which do you enjoy more a week-end
here or at the Barrington's, say?"
"Well; of course, that would depend--"
"Take it that she was there in both cases."
"Ass," said Bill, putting an elbow into Antony's ribs. "It's a
little difficult to say," he went on. "Of course they do you
awfully well here."
"Yes."
"I don't think I know any house where things are so comfortable.
One's room--the food--drinks--cigars--the way everything's
arranged: All that sort of thing. They look after you awfully
well."
"Yes?"
"Yes." He repeated it slowly to himself, as if it had given him
a new idea: "They look after you awfully well. Well, that's just
what it is about Mark. That's one of his little ways.
Weaknesses. Looking after you."
"Arranging things for you?"
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