A Murder is Arranged by Basil Thomson Page A

in dark blue with a green wing in her hat and I will tell him my name.”
    It is always pleasant to play the part of a knight-errant and Forge returned to his guests with the glow still upon him. He explained to them what had happened.
    â€œMademoiselle Coulon!” exclaimed Huskisson with a note of pleasure in his voice. “Why, that must be Pauline Coulon.”
    â€œYou know her then?” asked Forge.
    â€œI do and she’s a very charming person.”
    â€œShe must be,” agreed Oborn, “for do you know that she’s lifted the atmosphere of gloom from your brow for the first time since I met you.”
    â€œPerhaps you would go in the car to meet her at Kingston, as you know her,” said Forge; “and, by the way, the car ought to be starting soon: the trains run pretty often.”
    â€œHave you told her what has happened?” asked Huskisson.
    â€œI told her that poor Margaret Gask was dead but I did not say how she met her death.”
    â€œOh, then I suppose that will be my pleasant job,” observed Huskisson, on whom a deeper gloom had descended. “However, I’ll be off.”
    â€œI don’t envy him his job,” said Oborn when Huskisson had shut the door behind him.
    â€œNo more do I, but it’ll be easier for him than it would have been for us who have never met the lady.”
    â€œDo you think you acted wisely in inviting her to come to a house where her friend has just been murdered?”
    â€œWhat else could I do? She had been invited to this house by poor Margaret and I couldn’t leave her stranded without a friend in London. After all, we ought to be able between us to make her forget the tragedy.”
    â€œI hope she won’t mind there being no hostess.”
    â€œWell, you see I’ve got no female relations. Margaret, poor girl, was to have acted as hostess. I would have asked Huskisson’s mother to come and stay for Christmas but it seems that she has already accepted an invitation to go to some friends in Scotland. If you’ll excuse me I think I’ll see the housekeeper myself about a room for Mademoiselle.”
    As soon as the door had closed behind Forge, Oborn rang the bell. It was answered by the butler, who, seeing that Oborn was alone, closed the door behind him.
    â€œI’m glad you answered the bell. Tell me quickly. Did you ever hear Margaret speak of a French friend called Pauline Coulon?”
    â€œNever,” said the butler without hesitation.
    â€œGood. That’s all I wanted to know. Clear out now before Forge comes back.”
    A minute later Forge returned with an expression of satisfaction on his face.
    â€œWe must make this lady comfortable,” he said; “but I think that my old housekeeper will see to that now that I’ve put her on her mettle.”
    â€œI hope she’ll prove worth the trouble you are taking and that her appearance will make as good an impression upon you as her voice seems to have made.”
    Forge grinned. “We shan’t have long to wait; they may be here at any minute.”
    When the visitor did arrive they had to own that, however attractive her voice was, it could not have been more prepossessing than her appearance. She had even succeeded in dispelling the habitual gloom of Huskisson, who introduced her first to her host.
    The girl’s manner was charming. “But how kind of you to ask me here,” she said to Forge, looking at him from beneath her long lashes. She was tall and slender with a kind of ethereal beauty about her which seemed to Forge very unlike the usual type of Frenchwoman. It would have been difficult to describe the exact colour of her eyes, which seemed to change from grey to green. Oborn made an inward note of their extreme intelligence.
    Forge, intent on hospitality, demanded whether she had dined and, learning that she had not, ordered a tray to be brought. He knew that he could leave to his