Trial and Error by Anthony Berkeley Page B

to be directed as much at Mr Todhunter as at anyone.
    Mr Todhunter modestly looked away as his host excused himself. If there was one thing Mr Todhunter detested and dreaded, it was coquettish advances on the part of the other sex. Fortunately he had been bothered with them very little.
    Left alone again, Mr Todhunter rubbed the freckled top of his small bald head and polished his pince-nez, as he debated whether to await the return of his host or escape there and then while the way was clear. The advantages of the latter course were obvious, while on the other hand a natural curiosity (and if anything Mr Todhunter had more than his share of natural curiosity) urged him to stay and draw the conversation back to Farroway’s private affairs; for that something was very queer about those affairs was as obvious as the polished gleam on Mr Todhunter’s own cranium.
    These reflections had lasted no more than half a minute when they were interrupted by voices outside the door of the room in which Mr Todhunter was sitting.
    There had been the sound of a heavy door closing, as it might be the front door, and then a deep feminine voice spoke with cold and clear enunciation:
    â€œI pay you to answer the bell at once, Marie; not to keep me waiting outside.”
    3
    Mr Todhunter unashamedly cupped a bony hand round his ear.
    The tone of the voice had been so unpleasant, with a grating edge in spite of its deepness, that Mr Todhunter’s attention was riveted, and he listened as hard as he could.
    The maid’s reply was indistinguishable, but the newcomer’s words carried clearly.
    â€œI’m not interested in Mr Farroway’s telephone calls. Perhaps I’d better remind you, Marie, that you’re here to attend to me, not to Mr Farroway. I’ve noticed lately that you don’t seem to understand that. You’d better not let me have to speak to you about it again.”
    There was the low, deferential tone of the maid’s apology, and the next thing Mr Todhunter heard was a sharply irritated:
    â€œGentleman? What gentleman?”
    Before Mr Todhunter had time to squirm, the door was flung open and the owner of the voice swept (there was no other word for it) into the room. Mr Todhunter shambled hurriedly to his feet.
    She was a magnificent creature, there was no doubt about that: tall, slim, with dark brown hair, exceedingly soignée and opulently dressed, and she knew how to wear her furs. This alone was enough to disconcert Mr Todhunter as the lady gazed at him with cold and hostile enquiry; but what completed his discomfort was the curious aspect of the lady’s eyes. These were dark brown, large and lustrous; they were even beautiful. But they were too large, in Mr Todhunter’s opinion. They seemed to him naked, indecent eyes; and his own weak light blue ones found themselves attracted in a kind of stare of fascination.
    If I look at them for long, Mr Todhunter found himself thinking rather wildly, I might become hypnotised, and that would be exceedingly awkward. But he was unable to look away.
    â€œGood afternoon,” said the lady, and her tone was not a welcoming one.
    â€œGood afternoon,” mumbled Mr Todhunter, still gazing in a fascinated way at those outsize orbs. “I—er—should apologise . . . this intrusion . . . had no idea . . . Mr Farroway . . .” He subsided into helpless silence.
    â€œMr Farroway appears to be entertaining himself on the telephone. Perhaps we had better introduce ourselves.”
    â€œMy name is Todhunter,” apologised Mr Todhunter.
    â€œIndeed?” The lady did not offer her own. Instead she looked at Mr Todhunter with cold dislike, as if his name had added the last drop to her cup of annoyance, and proceeded to undo her furs. Mr Todhunter wondered whether he ought to take them from her and put them down somewhere or whether this would not be adjudged correct. The lady solved his problem by flinging them petulantly