The Shadow at Greystone Chase (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 10) by Clara Benson Page A

now. I do believe I could never go anywhere else. The air is so healthy, don’t you think?’
    Angela, snug once more in her scarf, spoke with animation of the sharpness of the air, and the two ladies continued on their way. The cliff top now began to slope downwards gradually, until it finally disappeared and the path became a promenade. Here there was another stretch of sand which was invisible from the other beach, and the first thing Angela saw on it was an erect and portly figure coming towards them, accompanied by a black spaniel with a stick in its mouth. She suppressed a sigh of irritation, for now she was with Mrs. Hudd and would not be able to bring up the subject about which she wanted to speak to him.
    Mrs. Hudd had seen the colonel too, and raised her voice to greet him. He bowed gallantly to them, and Mrs. Hudd preened girlishly. The two of them conversed enthusiastically about the glories of the day as Angela looked on.
    ‘I’ve just been speaking to Mrs. Poynter,’ said the colonel, once the topic of the weather had been exhausted to their satisfaction. ‘She’s got rats.’
    ‘Dear me!’ said Mrs. Hudd, putting her hand to her breast in alarm.
    ‘Yes,’ said the colonel, nodding. ‘Her husband is away in Birmingham until next week, and she says she keeps hearing scrabbling sounds in the attic. That little terrier of hers is scared of its own shadow, so that’s no help. Betsy’s no good as a ratter either, poor old thing,’ he went on, bending down to pat his dog’s head affectionately, ‘or I’d offer her services. I expect it will have to be poison.’
    ‘Isn’t she afraid, all alone in the house with the rats?’ said Mrs. Hudd.
    ‘No, no, not she,’ said the colonel. ‘She’s not the namby-pamby sort. She’s made of stern stuff despite her looks.’
    ‘Oh, her looks,’ said Mrs. Hudd carelessly. ‘I don’t admire the type myself, but I can see why some might call her attractive.’
    Angela had no idea who Mrs. Poynter was, but evidently she was not a favourite of Mrs. Hudd.
    ‘Shall we turn back, Mrs. Wells, and walk with the colonel?’ said that lady now, and did so without waiting for Angela’s reply.
    They returned along the beach as far as the cliff steps and ascended them once more, then Colonel Dempster escorted them back to the hotel, where luncheon was just being served, and took his leave. Angela and Mrs. Hudd were then joined by Miss Atkinson, who was evidently chafing under her enforced inactivity, and Mrs. Hudd spent most of lunch in lecturing her friend, who took it meekly and agreed to remain sitting for the rest of the afternoon, at least. Meanwhile, Angela amused herself by observing the relationship between the two. Mrs. Hudd seemed to be the one in charge—at least, she certainly thought so—but Angela thought she could discern a little gleam of rebellion in Miss Atkinson’s eye, which told her that here was someone who was not so easily cowed as it might appear.
    After lunch, Angela found that a letter had arrived for her. It was from Mr. Gilverson, who informed her that Mr. and Mrs. de Lisle were only too delighted to invite Mrs. Wells to come and see Greystone Chase. Business would prevent Mr. de Lisle from conducting Mrs. Wells around the place himself, but he assured her that she would be given every attention and had only to ask if there were anything she wished to know.
    ‘I don’t know why Godfrey can’t show you around in person,’ finished the letter. ‘Pure laziness on his part, I expect. It’s all rather inconvenient, of course, since the whole point of the thing was to get you an introduction to him. Still, you might at least get a sight of him or Victorine, who is a little shy and awkward but, I hope, not so much so as deliberately to avoid someone who has come with a view to purchasing her house.’
    Angela had mixed feelings on reading the letter. She had spent two days in Denborough, at best skirting around the edges of the matter,