II
Lucy took Miss Marple home. On her way back a figure stepped out of the
darkness and stood in the glare of the headlights just as she was about to
turn into the back lane. He held up his hand and Lucy recognized Alfred
Crackenthorpe.
“That’s better,” he observed, as he got in. “Brr, it’s cold! I fancied I’d like
a nice
bracing1 walk. I didn’t. Taken the old lady home all right?”
“Yes. She enjoyed herself very much.”
“One could see that. Funny what a taste old ladies have for any kind of
society, however dull. And, really, nothing could be duller than Rutherford
Hall. Two days here is about as much as I can stand. How do you manage
to stick it out, Lucy? Don’t mind if I call you Lucy, do you?”
“Not at all. I don’t find it dull. Of course with me it’s not a permanency.”
“I’ve been watching you—you’re a smart girl, Lucy. Too smart to waste
yourself cooking and cleaning.”
“Thank you, but I prefer cooking and cleaning to the office desk.”
“So would I. But there are other ways of living. You could be a freel-
ance.”
“I am.”
“Not this way. I mean, working for yourself, pitting your wits against—”
“Against what?”
“The powers that be! All the silly pettifogging rules and regulations that
hamper2 us all nowadays. The interesting thing is there’s always a way
round them if you’re smart enough to find it. And you’re smart. Come
now, does the idea appeal to you?”
“Possibly.”
Lucy manoeuvred the car into the stableyard.
“Not going to commit yourself?”
“I’d have to hear more.”
“Frankly, my dear girl, I could use you. You’ve got the sort of manner
that’s invaluable—creates confidence.”
“Do you want me to help you sell gold bricks?”
“Nothing so
risky3. Just a little by-passing of the law—no more.” His hand
slipped up her arm. “You’re a damned attractive girl, Lucy. I’d like you as
a partner.”
“I’m flattered.”
“Meaning nothing doing? Think about it. Think of the fun. The pleasure
you’d get out of outwitting all the sober-sides. The trouble is, one needs
capital.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t got any.”
“Oh, it wasn’t a touch! I’ll be laying my hands on some before long. My
revered4 Papa can’t live forever, mean old
brute5. When he pops off, I lay
my hands on some real money. What about it, Lucy?”
“What are the terms?”
“Marriage if you fancy it. Women seem to, no matter how advanced and
self-supporting they are. Besides, married women can’t be made to give
evidence against their husbands.”
“Not so flattering!”
“Come off it, Lucy. Don’t you realize I’ve fallen for you?”
Rather to her surprise Lucy was aware of a queer
fascination6. There was
a quality of charm about Alfred, perhaps due to sheer animal
magnetism7.
She laughed and slipped from his encircling arm.
“This is no time for dalliance. There’s dinner to think about.”
“So there is, Lucy, and you’re a lovely cook. What’s for dinner?”
“Wait and see! You’re as bad as the boys!”
They entered the house and Lucy hurried to the kitchen. She was rather
surprised to be interrupted in her preparations by Harold Crackenthorpe.
“Miss Eyelesbarrow, can I speak to you about something?”
“Would later do, Mr. Crackenthorpe? I’m rather behind hand.”
“Certainly. Certainly. After dinner?”
“Yes, that will do.”
Dinner was duly served and appreciated. Lucy finished washing up and
came out into the hall to find Harold Crackenthorpe waiting for her.
“Yes, Mr. Crackenthorpe?”
“Shall we come in here?” He opened the door of the drawing room and
led the way. He shut the door behind her.
“I shall be leaving early in the morning,” he explained, “but I want to tell
you how struck I have been by your ability.”
“Thank you,” said Lucy, feeling a little surprised.
“I feel that your talents are wasted here—definitely wasted.”
“Do you? I don’t.”
At any rate, he can’t ask me to marry him, thought Lucy. He’s got a wife
already.
you call upon me in London. If you will ring up and make an appointment,
I will leave instructions with my secretary. The truth is that we could use
someone of your outstanding ability in the firm. We could discuss
fully10 in
what field your talents would be most ably employed. I can offer you, Miss
Eyelesbarrow, a very good salary indeed with brilliant
prospects11. I think
you will be agreeably surprised.”
His smile was magnanimous.
“Thank you, Mr. Crackenthorpe, I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t wait too long. These opportunities should not be missed by a
young woman anxious to make her way in the world.”
Again his teeth flashed.
“Good night, Miss Eyelesbarrow, sleep well.”
“Well,” said Lucy to herself, “well…this is all very interesting….”
On her way up to bed, Lucy encountered Cedric on the stairs.
“Look here, Lucy, there’s something I want to say to you.”
“Do you want me to marry you and come to Ibiza and look after you?”
Cedric looked very much taken aback, and slightly alarmed.
“I never thought of such a thing.”
“Sorry. My mistake.”
“I just wanted to know if you’ve a timetable in the house?”
“Is that all? There’s one on the hall table.”
“You know,” said Cedric, reprovingly, “you shouldn’t go about thinking
everyone wants to marry you. You’re quite a good-looking girl but not as
good-looking as all that. There’s a name for that sort of thing—it grows on
you and you get worse. Actually, you’re the last girl in the world I should
care to marry. The last girl.”
“Indeed?” said Lucy. “You needn’t rub it in. Perhaps you’d prefer me as
a stepmother?”
“What’s that?” Cedric stared at her stupefied.
“You heard me,” said Lucy, and went into her room and shut the door.
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