The Unsuspected by Charlotte Armstrong Page B

Tyl. You remember? She was with us and of us, but she was, herself, alone."
     
    That's true, Tyl thought
     
    "I think it was in the air," he continued. "The house was waiting, days before. The storm in her was disturbing all of us, but we didn't know. Or we put it down to sorrow and suspense over you, my dear. But now I remember that morning. She was writing a letter
    for me, and the typewriter knew, Tyl. It was stumbling under her fingers, trying to tell me. I felt very restless. I didn't know why.
     
    Althea was fussing with a new kind of bread. She was in the kitchen, I remember. I felt the need of homeliness. I wanted to smell the good kitchen smells. Instinctively, I left her, Tyl." He paused.
     
    "And of course, since it was rather a fascinating thing Althea was trying to do—cinnamon and sugar and apples in the dough—I became enchanted with the process. I'm afraid we forgot about Rosaleen behind the study door. Alone in there. Oliver was with us. The three of us were happy as children." His beautiful voice was full of regret and woe. "But there is a fancy bread of which we shall not eat, we three."
     
    She sobbed. "When—how did you—who?"
     
    "It was Oliver who—" he told her gently. "Noontime. He opened the door to call, and there was that little husk, the mortal wrappings—"
     
    Mathilda whimpered. She heard the men coming back, Oliver and Gahagen. Jane too. She wished they wouldn't yet. She wanted Grandy to say one thing more, something, anything to reconcile this tragedy, to heal it over, not to leave her heart aching.
     
    "Well, its on the study circuit, all right," said Gahagen mildly. He walked over and looked at the clock. "But you tell me nobody put any new fuse in?"
     
    Grandy didn't repeat his denial. He sighed.
     
    "Maybe somebody did and said nothing about it," suggested Gahagen.
     
    "Possibly."
     
    Oliver said, "But who? After all, we don't have servants, you know."
     
    "Funny."
     
    "Could the clock have been out of order?" offered Jane timidly. She was back in her corner. Her blue eyes were round and innocent, and wished to be helpful.
     
    "It's running now," Gahagen said, frowning at it. "Who started it again after that morning?"
     
    "By golly, I did!" cried Oliver.
     
    "When?"
     
    "Let me see. That night. I noticed it, set it and gave it a flip. Never crossed my mind till now."
     
    "Don't sound like it was out of order. And it's on that circuit, all right. Kitchen, study, and this double plug, backed against the study wall. That's the fuse that went with the desk lamp when she kicked it over."
     
    Grandy shook a puzzled head. He said wistfully, "I find mechanical contrivances very mysterious. Believe me, Tom, they are not always simply mechanical. They have their demons and their human failings. My car, for instance, has a great deal of fortitude, but
    a very bad temper. The oil burner is subject to moods, and the power lawn mower is absolutely willful."
     
    Gahagen laughed. He said in a good-humored voice, "I don't want you to think we're snooping around after one of those unsuspected murders of yours, Luther."
     
    "Oh, Lord," said Grandy humorously.
     
    Jane turned her ankle over convulsively. Her heel clattered on the floor. She stopped knitting to look hard at the stitches.
     
    "It's just that it was funny and we kinda wanted to check. Er—this Mr. Howard, he—er—wasn't here at that time, was he?"
     
    "No," said Grandy. "No." His black eyes turned behind the glasses, slid sidewise in thought.
     
    Gahagen frowned. "Have I got this straight, Luther? Now, when he came here, he was a stranger to you?"
     
    "To me," said Grandy, "he was an utter stranger."
     
    Oliver said, "Nobody knew him except Tyl." He said it with smiling implications.
     
       Tyl opened her mouth to say, "But I didn't, don't." She felt Grandy's hand on her shoulder. It said, Be still. She thought immediately, No, no, of course, not now. She leaned heavily against his knee.
     
    "Where's Mrs.