He wouldn’t
have been a good lawyer if he hadn’t been able to ask a straight question
without making it seem important. Within five minutes he was talking to a
quiet-spoken man who said he was Professor Lingard and readily confirmed that
Miss Arundel had indeed visited the Observatory the previous night. “Anything
wrong?” asked the Professor.
“Not a thing,” answered George. “She just didn’t keep an appointment for
lunch, but she often does things like that—she’s a little haywire about
times and places. We just wondered what she was up to during the small hours,
that’s all. ‘We’ is her studio and I’m her lawyer.” And he laughed as if the
whole thing was just part of some good-hearted fun he was having.
The Professor did not attempt to share the fun, but he explained with
great seriousness how it had all come about. He said that about 1 A.M. Miss
Arundel had telephoned to ask if it were a right time for coming up to look
at the sky. No, he didn’t know her well, he had met her only once before, but
they had talked about astronomy and he had invited her to visit the
Observatory some suitable night. That night being one of the best, he had
answered sure, come by all means. He himself was at work with his assistant,
as always when weather conditions were thus favourable. She had reached the
Observatory about two-thirty and he had been slightly surprised that she was
alone—she hadn’t mentioned anyone else, but somehow he had assumed she
would have company on the rather lonely drive to the mountain-top. They had
spent perhaps an hour at the big telescope; she had then said she must go. He
and his assistant had taken her to her car about a quarter to four.
“Did she say she was going straight home?”
“I imagined she was. We talked about it being sunrise before she’d get
there.”
“So she’s probably asleep still… Well, thanks, Professor, it’s been very
kind of you.”
He was just about to hang up when the Professor added, with a blandness
that George thought remarkable: “I suppose she never arrived home at all and
you’re looking for her? I’m afraid I can’t help you much about that. She was
wide awake when she left and certainly able to drive a car. I myself drove
down the mountain about half an hour later and there was no sign of any
accident.”
“Did you expect one?” George asked sharply.
“There’s a dangerous part of the road where several cars have gone over in
recent months.”
“And you wondered about it enough to follow her and make sure?”
“Yes… for some reason I can’t quite explain… I did.”
“That’s a strange thing.”
“It is, isn’t it? But she was rather strange too. Behind a surface
cheerfulness I’d have guessed her in acute distress of some kind.”
“Look here, Professor, I think we ought to meet personally to talk about
all this…”
The Professor agreed, but before George could fix an appointment his
secretary had entered with a typewritten message: “Randolph’s been trying to
phone you again. He said it’s important—about Miss Arundel.”
George got rid of the Professor as best he could and then called Randolph,
who said simply: “She’s gone off with Saffron. It’ll be in the morning papers
along with the drunk case. The real topper of toppers. Some paper up the
Coast just spotted them together in a hotel. Calls it an elopement. I dare
say this means we’re through with her as well—I don’t know what else we
can do. If only these people would realize we don’t give a damn what their
morals are, provided they don’t make trouble for US with ‘em… Personally, I
can’t understand it. Not only throwing away a career but for God’s sake what
on earth can she see in Saffron? What on earth DID she see? Don’t suppose
we’ll ever get the whole truth about that.”
“Do you ever expect to get the whole truth about anything?” George asked,
with all his lawyer’s experience. But behind the hardboiledness he felt a
little sad. He was rather sure he would never meet another woman who would
make him—even fleetingly—question the validity of his
bachelorhood. He added: “She must have had an interesting life, Randy. Born
in Ireland, she told me—on a farm… I wonder how she ever…” But
there were so many things he wondered.
At the convent school just outside Dublin, Carey had
nourished ambitions to be either a nun or an actress; the nuns dissuaded her
from the former, and her mother was equally against the latter.
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