Silence in Court by Patricia Wentworth Page A

smile.
    â€œYou have a perfect right to leave anything to anybody.”
    She nodded and said,
    â€œIngenious! You’re a good man of business … Nora?”
    Nora held the heavy teapot poised. Her eyes were as bright and hard as Honoria Maquisten’s own.
    â€œWhat do you want me to say—that you’re all there and on the spot? I’ve never heard anybody doubt it.”
    The eyes met in a glance that held and challenged like a meeting of blades.
    Dennis said, “Honours easy!”
    Mrs. Maquisten nodded.
    â€œHonor?”
    Honor looked down, twisted bony fingers in her lap.
    â€œNothing to say? Swallowed your tongue?”
    â€œThere isn’t anything to say.” The words came in a shrinking whisper.
    â€œMeaning you’re kind enough to agree that I can do what I like with my own?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œDennis?”
    â€œDarling, need you ask?”
    She said drily, “I don’t know that I need, but I do.”
    He got up out of his chair, went over to her, and stood there leaning on his crutch.
    â€œYou know, you are plagiarizing horribly. We seem to have wandered into King Lear , and I suppose I’m Cordelia. I’ve always thought her the world’s prize mutt, so I’ll give a completely original reading of the part. In fact, darling, I think you’re the cat’s whiskers, and anything you do is O.K. by me. With which virginal remarks I make my bow—or I would if I wasn’t on a crutch—and invite the audience to applaud.”
    Mr. Aylwin promptly clapped his hands.
    â€œAnd now,” he said, “don’t you think, Honoria, that the curtain might come down? Theatrical performances during meals are a little hard on the digestion, and as you know, I am a passionate admirer of Mrs. Deeping’s scones.”

CHAPTER NINE
    Nora whirled out of the house and was seen no more. This time apparently it was Alan, not Jack, who was her escort. She passed Dennis and Carey on the stairs and flung out the information with zest. Then she opened her fur coat and pointed triumphantly to a large glittering emerald and diamond crescent.
    â€œHow’s that for richness?”
    Dennis whistled.
    â€œHow did you get away with it?”
    She put out the tip of a pointed red tongue at him.
    â€œShe gave it to me just now—sent Ellen to get me and pressed it into my hand. Aha!”
    Dennis lifted an eyebrow.
    â€œEveryone will think it’s Woolworth, or if they don’t you’ll be garrotted on the way home.”
    She said, “Pouf!” and flicked two fingers at Carey. “It’s worth masses more than the one she gave you, but you’ll probably get the rubies. Competition in armaments! I wonder what Honor got. She was going in just as I came out. Poor old Den—you can’t even wear a diamond ring! Bye-bye—have a nice time!”
    Honor came creeping down after them, followed by Magda Brayle. As they came into the dining-room, Carey had a momentary impulse towards laughter. Honor in that hideous beige frock, the last colour on earth she ought ever to put anywhere near her, and, fastening the neck, one of those frightful Victorian brooches like a gold pudding with stones stuck in it for plums! The stones were red, and possibly valuable. Rubies? Difficult to tell in all that gold, but she didn’t think so. Probably carbuncles, in which case not valuable at all. All that really mattered was that Honor was obviously as pleased as Punch. She fingered the horrid thing, and was determined that everyone should notice it. Perhaps the stones were really rubies. Perhaps she only thought they were. Perhaps she was just pleased at having a present. The impulse to laughter died. It was pathetic to see anyone so pleased with a heavy, ugly thing like that.
    Dennis looked at it and enquired candidly,
    â€œYour share of the loot?”
    â€œAunt Honoria gave it to me just now.”
    â€œMrs.