The Last of the Kintyres by Catherine Airlie Page B

return to London and look for a job, and all the time her thoughts would be here at Ardlamond with Tony and Hew Kintyre.
    “I suppose that’s everything finally decided,” she said aloud. “I’m grateful, of course—”
    “But not absolutely sure that it will work?” he suggested. “The ideal thing would be for you to stay and see.”
    “I couldn’t!” she protested, without looking at him, in case he might see the desire in her eyes. She wanted to stay with all her heart. “I couldn’t infli ct a double burden on you.”
    He came to stand quite close to her.
    “You told me five minutes ago that you were a most competent person,” he reminded her. “That, in fact, you were more than able to look after yourself. What I am asking you to do is stay here and help to look after your brother.”
    Her wide eyes met his with all her relief and joy mirrored in their grey depths.
    “You mean that you really think I could help?” she asked.
    “I would not have asked you otherwise,” he informed her briefly.
    “I see.” She had been snubbed for her impetuosity, but she could not feel completely deflated. “This will be wonderful for Tony and me,” she confessed. “We’ve never been parted for any length of time. We were a very closely-knit family.” She paused, reminding herself that her family history could scarcely interest him, and then added impulsively, “This may seem an intrusion on my part, Hew, but if I could possibly help you with the estate affairs—the paper work, I mean—I’d love to do it. I’ve been a secretary for three years,” she stumbled on when he did not interrupt her, “and I know about these things.”
    He looked past her at the confusion on the desk, dismissing it with an impatient gesture which she thought quite typical.
    “I think it might be just as well if you confined your help to the domestic side,” he assured her firmly. “I can no doubt cope with this in my spare time.”
    “Yes,” she agreed, wondering where he was going to find such a commodity if he had already been working flat out at Whitefarland, as Mrs. Malcolm had suggested. “I’ll do what I can, Hew, and I’ll keep an eye on Tony. He shouldn’t really prove difficult.”
    His red brows went up, but he did not contradict her openly. Instead he followed her out into the hall where they met Jessie Malcolm coming through from the kitchens with the supper dishes.
    It was almost more than Elizabeth dared do to glance at the old grandfather clock which stood near the foot of the staircase, and then, shrilly, demandingly, the telephone bell rang, its sound piercing the silence between them.
    Hew went to the alcove and lifted the receiver. A woman’s rather shrill voice came through in a few distorted sentences, to which he made brief reply.
    “I see. Where are they?” He waited for a split second, listening again, and his face was suddenly harder, more set and determined as he added: “A ll right, I’ll get over there as quickly as I can.”
    He rang off, pausing a moment as if to draw breath. His back was towards Elizabeth, but she knew that this was something he had to tell her about. When he turned she said:
    “Is it—Tony?”
    He came towards her, leading her by the elbow back across the hall to the fireplace where she could sit down, if she wished.
    “I want you to take this as calmly as possible, Elizabeth,” he said, his own voice firm, his eyes level and commanding on hers. “There’s been an accident. Tony and Carol—in that ridiculous car of hers.”
    When she glanced and stiffened in his grasp, his fingers tightened on her arm.
    “I don’t think it’s anything very serious,” he said for her immediate comfort, “but they are some distance away.”
    “Can we get there?” Elizabeth pleaded. “Oh, Hew, I’m so sorry, but—but I have to get to him—”
    “Of course,” he said without any change of expression. “We must both go.”
    “This is so dreadful for you—happening