Towards Zero by Agatha Christie Page B

does it - just tact, I suppose.”
    “She has been with you long?”
    “Twelve years - no, more than that. Thirteen - fourteen - something like that. She has been a great comfort.”
    Mr. Treves nodded.
    Lady Tressilian, watching him through half-closed lids, said suddenly: “What's the matter? You're worried about something?”
    “A trifle,” said Mr. Treves. “A mere trifle. Your eyes are sharp.”
    “I like studying people,” said Lady Tressilian. “I always knew at once if there was anything on Matthew's mind.” She sighed and leaned back on her pillows. “I must say good night to you now” - it was a Queen's dismissal, nothing discourteous about it - “I am very tired. But it has been a great, great pleasure. Come and see me again soon.”
    “You may depend upon my taking advantage of those kind words. I only hope I have not talked too long.”
    “Oh, no. I always tire very suddenly. Ring my bell for me, will you, before you go?”
    Mr. Treves pulled gingerly at a large old-fashioned bell-pull that ended in a huge tassel.
    “Quite a survival,” he remarked.
    “My bell? Yes. No newfangled electric bells for me. Half of the time they're out of order and you go on pressing away! This thing never fails. It rings in Barrett's room upstairs - the bell hangs over her bed. So there's never any delay in answering it. If there is I pull it again pretty quickly.”
    As Mr. Treves went out of the room he heard the bell pulled a second time and heard the tinkle of it somewhere above his head. He looked up and noticed the wires that ran along the ceiling. Barrett came hurriedly down a flight of stairs and passed him, going to her mistress.
    Mr. Treves went slowly downstairs, not troubling with the little lift on the downward journey. His face was drawn into a frown of uncertainty.
    He found the whole party assembled in the drawing-room, and Mary Aldin at once suggested bridge, but Mr. Treves refused politely on the plea that he must very shortly be starting for home.
    “My hotel,” he said, “is old-fashioned. They do not expect anyone to be out after midnight.”
    “It's a long time from that - only half-past ten,” said Nevile. “They don't lock you out, I hope?”
    “Oh, no. In fact, I doubt if the door is locked at all at night. It is shut at nine o'clock, but one has only to turn the handle and walk in. People seem very haphazard down here, but I suppose they are justified in trusting to the honesty of the local people.”
    “Certainly no one locks their door in the day-time here,” said Mary. “Ours stands wide open all day long - but we do lock it up at night.”
    “What's the Balmoral Court like?” asked Ted Latimer. “It looks a queer, high Victorian atrocity of a building.”
    “It lives up to its name,” said Mr. Treves. “And has good solid Victorian comfort. Good beds, good cooking - roomy Victorian wardrobes. Immense baths with mahogany surrounds.”
    “Weren't you saying you were annoyed about something at first?” asked Mary.
    “Ah, yes. I had carefully reserved by letter two rooms on the ground floor. I have a weak heart, you know, and stairs are forbidden me. When I arrived I was vexed to find the rooms were not available. Instead, I was allotted two rooms (very pleasant rooms, I must admit) on the top floor. I protested, but it seems that an old resident who had been going to Scotland this month was ill, and had been unable to vacate the rooms.”
    “Mr. Lucan, I expect?” said Mary.
    “I believe that is the name. Under the circumstances, I had to make the best of things. Fortunately, there is a good automatic lift - so that I have really suffered no inconvenience.”
    Kay said: “Ted, why don't you come and stay at the Balmoral Court? You'd be much more accessible.”
    “Oh, I don't think it looks my kind of place.”
    “Quite right, Mr. Latimer,” said Mr. Treves. “It would not be at all in your line of country.”
    For some reason or other Ted Latimer flushed. “I