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‘But look here, Father, you can’t do that!’

      Simeon said softly: ‘Oh, can’t I[109]!’

      ‘My expenses are very heavy already. Very heavy. As it is, I don’t know how I make both ends meet. It needs the most rigorous economy.’

      ‘Let your wife do a bit more of it,’ said Simeon. ‘Women are good at that sort of thing. They often think of economies where a man would never have dreamt of them. And a clever woman can make her own clothes. My wife, I remember, was clever with her needle. About all she was clever with – a good woman, but deadly dull – ’

      David sprang up. His father said: ‘Sit down, boy, you’ll knock something over – ’

      David said: ‘My mother – ’

      Simeon said: ‘Your mother had the brains of a louse! And it seems to me she’s transmitted those brains to her children.’ He raised himself up suddenly. A red spot appeared on each cheek. His voice came high and shrill. ‘You’re not worth a penny piece, any of you! I’m sick of you all! You’re not men! You’re weaklings – a set of namby-pamby weaklings. Pilar’s worth any two of you put together! I’ll swear to heaven I’ve got a better son somewhere in the world than any of you, even if you are born the right side of the blanket[110]!’

      ‘Here, Father, hold hard,’ cried Harry.

      He had jumped up and stood there, a frown on his usually good-humoured face. Simeon snapped: ‘The same goes for you! What have you ever done? Whined to me for money from all over the world! I tell you I’m sick of the sight of you all! Get out!’

      He leaned back in his chair, panting a little.

      Slowly, one by one, his family went out. George was red and indignant. Magdalene looked frightened. David was pale and quivering. Harry blustered out of the room. Alfred went like a man in a dream. Lydia followed him with her head held high. Only Hilda paused in the doorway and came slowly back.

      She stood over him, and he started when he opened his eyes and found her standing there. There was something menacing in the solid way she stood there quite immovably.

      He said irritably: ‘What is it?’

      Hilda said: ‘When your letter came I believed what you said – that you wanted your family round you for Christmas, I persuaded David to come.’

      Simeon said: ‘Well, what of it?’

      Hilda said slowly: ‘You did want your family round you – but not for the purpose you said! You wanted them there, didn’t you, in order to set them all by the ears[111]? God help you, it’s your idea of fun!’

      Simeon chuckled. He said: ‘I always had rather a specialized sense of humour. I don’t expect anyone else to appreciate the joke. I’m enjoying it!’

      She said nothing. A vague feeling of apprehension came over Simeon Lee. He said sharply: ‘What are you thinking about?’

      Hilda Lee said slowly: ‘I’m afraid…’

      Simeon said: ‘You’re afraid – of me?’

      Hilda said: ‘Not of you. I’m afraid – for you!’

      Like a judge who has delivered sentence[112], she turned away. She marched, slowly and heavily, out of the room…

      Simeon sat staring at the door. Then he got to his feet and made his way over to the safe. He murmured: ‘Let’s have a look at my beauties.’

      III

      The doorbell rang about a quarter to eight.

      Tressilian went to answer it. He returned to his pantry to find Horbury there, picking up the coffee-cups off the tray and looking at the mark on them.

      ‘Who was it?’ said Horbury.

      ‘Superintendent of Police – Mr Sugden – mind what you’re doing![113]’

      Horbury had dropped one of the cups with a crash.

      ‘Look at that now,’ lamented Tressilian. ‘Eleven years I’ve had the washing up of those and never one broken, and now you come along touching things you’ve no business to touch, and look what happens!’

      ‘I’m sorry, Mr Tressilian. I am indeed,’ the other apologized. His face was covered with perspiration. ‘I don’t know how it happened. Did you say a Superintendent of Police had called?’

      ‘Yes – Mr Sugden.’

      The valet passed a tongue over pale lips.

      ‘What – what did he want?’

      ‘Collecting for the Police Orphanage.’

      ‘Oh!’ The valet straightened his shoulders. In a more natural voice he said: ‘Did he get anything?’

      ‘I took up the book to old Mr Lee, and he told me to fetch the superintendent up and to put the sherry on the table.’

      ‘Nothing but begging, this time of year,’ said Horbury. ‘The old devil’s generous, I will say that for him, in spite of his other failings.’

      Tressilian said with dignity: ‘Mr Lee has always been an open-handed gentleman[114].’

      Horbury nodded. ‘It’s the best thing about him! Well, I’ll be off now.’

      ‘Going to the pictures?’

      ‘I expect so. Ta-ta, Mr Tressilian.’ He went through the door that led to the servants’ hall.

      Tressilian looked up at the clock hanging on the wall. He went into the dining-room and laid the rolls in the napkins. Then, after assuring himself that everything was as it should be, he sounded the gong in the hall.

      As the last note died away the police superintendent came down the stairs. Superintendent Sugden was a large handsome man. He wore a tightly buttoned blue suit and moved with a sense of his own importance.

      He said affably: ‘I rather think we shall have a frost tonight. Good thing: the weather’s been very unseasonable lately.’

      Tressilian said, shaking his head: ‘The damp affects my rheumatism.’

      The superintendent said that the rheumatism was a painful complaint, and Tressilian let him out by the front door.

      The old butler refastened the door and came back slowly into the hall. He passed his hand over his eyes and sighed. Then he straightened his back as he saw Lydia pass into the drawing-room. George Lee was just coming down the stairs.

      Tressilian hovered ready. When the last guest, Magdalene, had entered the drawing-room, he made his own appearance, murmuring: ‘Dinner is served.’

      In his way Tressilian was a connoisseur of ladies’ dress. He always noted and criticized the gowns of the ladies as he circled round the table, decanter in hand.

      Mrs Alfred, he noted, had got on her new flowered black and white taffeta. A bold design, very striking, but she could carry it off, though many ladies couldn’t. The dress Mrs George had on was a model, he was pretty sure of that. Must have cost a pretty penny.[115] He wondered how Mr George would like paying for it! Mr George didn’t like spending money – he never had. Mrs David now: a nice lady, but didn’t have any idea of how to dress. For her figure, plain black velvet would have been the best. Figured velvet[116], and crimson at that, was a bad choice. Miss Pilar, now, it didn’t matter what she wore, with her figure and her hair she looked well in anything. A flimsy cheap little white gown it was, though. Still, Mr Lee would soon see to that! Taken to her wonderful[117], he had. Always was the same way when a gentleman was elderly. A young face could do anything with

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