II

“Ha,” cried Patrick dramatically, as the party took their places round thedining room table. “What do I see before me? Delicious Death.”

“Hush,” said Miss Blacklock. “Don’t let Mitzi hear you. She objects toyour name for her cake very much.”

“Nevertheless, Delicious Death it is! Is it Bunny’s birthday cake?”

“Yes, it is,” said Miss Bunner. “I really am having the most wonderfulbirthday.”

Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and had been ever since Col-onel Easterbrook had handed her a small box of sweets and declaimedwith a bow, “Sweets to the Sweet!”

Julia had turned her head away hurriedly, and had been frowned at byMiss Blacklock.

Full justice was done to the good things on the tea table and they rosefrom their seats after a round of crackers.

“I feel slightly sick,” said Julia. “It’s that cake. I remember I felt just thesame last time.”

“It’s worth it,” said Patrick.

“These foreigners certainly understand confectionery,” said Miss Hinch-cliffe. “What they can’t make is a plain boiled pudding.”

Everybody was respectfully silent, though it seemed to be hovering onPatrick’s lips to ask if anyone really wanted a plain boiled pudding.

“Got a new gardener?” asked Miss Hinchcliffe of Miss Blacklock as theyreturned to the drawing room.

“No, why?”

“Saw a man snooping round the henhouse. Quite a decent-looking Armytype.”

“Oh, that,” said Julia. “That’s our detective.”

Mrs. Easterbrook dropped her handbag.

“Detective?” she exclaimed. “But—but—why?”

“I don’t know,” said Julia. “He prowls about and keeps an eye on thehouse. He’s protecting Aunt Letty, I suppose.”

“Absolute nonsense,” said Miss Blacklock. “I can protect myself, thankyou.”

“But surely it’s all over now,” cried Mrs. Easterbrook. “Though I meantto ask you, why did they adjourn the inquest?”

“Police aren’t satisfied,” said her husband. “That’s what that means.”

“But aren’t satisfied of what?”

Colonel Easterbrook shook his head with the air of a man who could saya good deal more if he chose. Edmund Swettenham, who disliked the Col-onel, said, “The truth of it is, we’re all under suspicion.”

“But suspicion of what?” repeated Mrs. Easterbrook.

“Never mind, kitten,” said her husband.

“Loitering with intent,” said Edmund. “The intent being to commitmurder upon the first opportunity.”

“Oh, don’t, please don’t, Mr. Swettenham.” Dora Bunner began to cry.

“I’m sure nobody here could possibly want to kill dear, dear Letty.”

There was a moment of horrible embarrassment. Edmund turned scar-let, murmured, “Just a joke.” Phillipa suggested in a high clear voice thatthey might listen to the six o’clock news and the suggestion was receivedwith enthusiastic assent.

Patrick murmured to Julia: “We need Mrs. Harmon here. She’d be sureto say in that high clear voice of hers, ‘But I suppose somebody is still wait-ing for a good chance to murder you, Miss Blacklock?’”

“I’m glad she and that old Miss Marple couldn’t come,” said Julia. “Thatold woman is the prying kind. And a mind like a sink, I should think. RealVictorian type.”

Listening to the news led easily into a pleasant discussion on the horrorsof atomic warfare. Colonel Easterbrook said that the real menace to civil-ization was undoubtedly Russia, and Edmund said that he had severalcharming Russian friends—which announcement was coldly received.

The party broke up with renewed thanks to the hostess.

“Enjoy yourself, Bunny?” asked Miss Blacklock, as the last guest wassped.

“Oh, I did. But I’ve got a terrible headache. It’s the excitement, I think.”

“It’s the cake,” said Patrick. “I feel a bit liverish myself. And you’ve beennibbling chocolates all the morning.”

“I’ll go and lie down, I think,” said Miss Bunner. “I’ll take a couple of as-pirins and try and have a nice sleep.”

“That would be a very good plan,” said Miss Blacklock.

Miss Bunner departed upstairs.

“Shall I shut up the ducks for you, Aunt Letty?”

Miss Blacklock looked at Patrick severely.

“If you’ll be sure to latch that door properly.”

“I will. I swear I will.”

“Have a glass of sherry, Aunt Letty,” said Julia. “As my old nurse used tosay, ‘It will settle your stomach.’ A revolting phrase, but curiously appositeat this moment.”

“Well, I dare say it might be a good thing. The truth is one isn’t used torich things. Oh, Bunny, how you made me jump. What is it?”

“I can’t find my aspirin,” said Miss Bunner disconsolately.

“Well, take some of mine, dear, they’re by my bed.”

“There’s a bottle on my dressing table,” said Phillipa.

“Thank you—thank you very much. If I can’t find mine—but I know I’vegot it somewhere. A new bottle. Now where could I have put it?”

“There’s heaps in the bathroom,” said Julia impatiently. “This house ischock full of aspirin.”

“It vexes me to be so careless and mislay things,” replied Miss Bunner,retreating up the stairs again.

“Poor old Bunny,” said Julia, holding up her glass. “Do you think weought to have given her some sherry?”

“Better not, I think,” said Miss Blacklock. “She’s had a lot of excitementtoday, and it isn’t really good for her. I’m afraid she’ll be the worse for ittomorrow. Still, I really do think she has enjoyed herself!”

“She’s loved it,” said Phillipa.

“Let’s give Mitzi a glass of sherry,” suggested Julia. “Hi, Pat,” she calledas she heard him entering the side door. “Fetch Mitzi.”

So Mitzi was brought in and Julia poured her out a glass of sherry.

“Here’s to the best cook in the world,” said Patrick.

Mitzi was gratified—but felt nevertheless that a protest was due.

“That is not so. I am not really a cook. In my country I do intellectualwork.”

“Then you’re wasted,” said Patrick. “What’s intellectual work comparedto a chef d’oeuvre like Delicious Death?”

“Oo—I say to you I do not like—”

“Never mind what you like, my girl,” said Patrick. “That’s my name for itand here’s to it. Let’s all drink to Delicious Death and to hell with the af-tereffects.”