father, do you know?"
"He was a seaman of some kind, I believe. Possibly a Lascar. The mother," added Leo dryly, "was unable to say."
"One doesn't know how she reacts to things, or what she thinks about. She says so little." Philip paused, and then shot out a question: "What does she know about this business that she isn't telling?"
He saw Leo Argyle's hand, that had been turning over papers, stop. There was a moment's pause, and then Leo said: "Why should you think she isn't telling everything she knows?"
"Come now, sir, it's pretty obvious, isn't it?"
"It's not obvious to me," said Leo.
She knows something," said Philip. "Something damaging, do you think, about some particular person?"
"I think, Philip, if you'll forgive me for saying so, that it is rather unwise to speculate about these things. One can easily imagine so much."
"Are you warning me off, sir?" "Is it really your business, Philip?"
"Meaning I'm not a policeman?"
"Yes, that's what I meant. Police have to do their duty. They have to enquire into things."
"And you don't want to enquire into them?" "Perhaps," said Leo, "I'm afraid of what I should find."
Philip's hand tightened excitedly in his chair. He said softly: "Perhaps you know who did it. Do you, sir?"
"No."
The abruptness and vigour of Leo's reply startled Philip.
"No," said Leo, bringing his hand down on the desk. He was suddenly no longer the frail, attenuated, withdrawn personality that Philip knew so well. "I don't know who did it! D'you hear? I don't know. I haven't the least idea. I don't -1 don't want to know."
Chapter 17
"And what are you doing, Hester, my love?" asked Philip.
In his wheeled-chair he was propelling himself along the passage. Hester was leaning out of the window half-way along it. She started and drew her head in.
"Oh, it's you," she said.
"Are you observing the universe, or considering suicide?" asked Philip.
She looked at him defiantly.
"What makes you say a thing like that?"
"Obviously it was in your mind," said Philip. "But, frankly, Hester, if you are contemplating such a step, that window is no good. The drop's not deep enough. Think how unpleasant it would be for you with a broken arm and a broken leg, say, instead of the merciful oblivion you are craving?"
"Micky used to climb down the magnolia tree from this window. It was his secret way in and out. Mother never knew."
"The things parents never know! One could write a book about it. But if it's suicide you are contemplating, Hester, just by the summer-house would be a better place to jump from."
"Where it juts out over the river? Yes, one would be dashed on the rocks below?
"The trouble with you, Hester, is that you're so melodramatic in your imaginings. Most people are quite satisfied with arranging themselves tidily in the gas oven or measuring themselves out an enormous number of sleeping pills."
"I'm glad you're here," said Hester unexpectedly. "You don't mind talking about things, do you?"
"Well, actually, I haven't much else to do nowadays, said Philip. "Come into my room and we'll do some more talking." As she hesitated, he went on: "Mary's downstairs, gone to prepare me some delicious little morning mess with her own fair hands."
"Mary wouldn't understand," said Hester.
"No," Philip agreed, "Mary wouldn't understand in the least."
Philip propelled himself along and Hester walked beside him. She opened the door of the sitting-room and he wheeled himself in. Hester followed.
"But you understand," said Hester. "Why?"
"Well, there's a time, you know, when one thinks about such things... When this business first happened to me, for instance, and I knew that I might be a cripple for life..."
"Yes," said Hester, "that must have been terrible. Terrible. And you were a pilot, too, weren't you? You flew."
"Up above the world so high, like a tea-tray in the sky," agreed Philip.
"I'm terribly sorry," said Hester. "I am really. I ought to have thought about it more, and been more sympathetic!"
"Thank God you weren't," said Philip. "But anyway, that phase is over now. One gets used to anything, you know. That's something, Hester, that you don't appreciate at the moment. But you'll come to it. Unless you do something very rash and very silly first. Now come on, tell me all about it. What's the trouble? I suppose you've had a row with your boy friend, the solemn young doctor. Is that it?"
"It wasn't a row," said Hester. "It was much worse than a row."
"It will come right," said Philip.
"No, it won't," said Hester. "It can't - ever."
"You're so extravagant