notes.
âYouâre very kind,â Mrs. Arlen repeated in a husky voice. âItâs so hard toâto understand. I canât understand it.â She was being too emphatic again. He judged that she was an intelligent woman; and judged, also, that Nurse Deacon had been wrong: she was suffering from shock. It prevented her from being herself; she was showing her fear too easily. And heâd increased the shock; it was a part of his job he didnât much like. He watched her dispassionately, and wondered what secrets she was hiding. â Will youâspeak to my sister?â
âYes, of course. And until she arrives, Iâll have a nurseââ
âI donât need a nurse!â
âI think youâd better have one for the next few hours,â said Roger. âYou donât want to overdo it. Thereâs your son to tell.â
That went through her, as a knife; he could see the pain in her eyes.
âHe must have some suspicion that thereâs plenty wrong already,â Roger said, and the tone of his voice was deceptively mild. âHeââ
âYou mustnât tell him!â
Roger said: âOh.â
âIâm not being silly; you mustnât, he mustnât be told! Heâs not strong, his heartâand he was passionately fondâof his father. If it hadnât been forââ
She broke off abruptly, and then turned her face away and began to cry. She sobbed wildly, trying to stifle the sound by burying her face in the pillow.
Roger watched her, still dispassionately, then went to the door. Another police nurse was standing on the landing. âCome in, and bring your note-book,â he whispered, and went back to the bedside. There was no slackening in that burst of crying for several minutes, but at last she was quiet.
Roger said: âIâm sorry, Mrs. Arlen, but you canât keep news of this kind away from Peter.â
âYou must!â she cried.
âThe investigation might go on for weeks, we may even have to question him.â
âNo!â She sat up, and glared at him. Her eyes were red and the lids puffy, her cheeks wet, her lips quivered and her body shook. âNo, you wouldnât be so cruel; not Peter. Thereâs no need to talk to Peter.â
âWe wonât, if we can avoid it. It all depends on how much we find out without talking to him. Did you tell anyone else that your husband wasnât home last night?â
She didnât answer.
Roger shrugged. âIâm sorry, but we must know.â
He wondered if the job were going to be easy. There were indications here of a carefully planned murder, followed by a burglary to cover it up. It wouldnât be the first time that such plans went awry because one of the parties to it hadnât the nerve to go on. She was distraught. Malby was sure she had been worried the night before, the nurse was sure there was something exceptional on her mind. He could see that she was trying to think, was bitterly angry with herself for her collapse, was trying to retain her self-control. Yes, she showed all the signs of guilt.
He said abruptly: âWere you and Mr. Arlen happily married, Mrs. Arlen?â
She almost screamed: âYes!â and couldnât have said âNoâ more clearly.
âI see. Mr. Arlen had no friends, close personal friends, whom you didnât know, I suppose?â
âOf course he didnât!â She should have said: âIf I didnât know them, how can I tell you?â but she wasnât in a mood for logical thinking, and yet he sensed that once she had command of herself, she would be much more difficult to break down.
âSure?â
âHe wouldnât, heâhe had everything he wanted. Everything!â
âThatâs good,â said Roger. âIf youâve nothing with which to reproach yourself, youâll feel much better. I donât think he had any
Under the Cover of the Moon (Cobblestone)