Lady
Blemley made periodic visits to the pantry, returning each time
with an expression of listless depression which forestalled
questioning.
At two o'clock Clovis broke the dominating silence.
"He won't turn up to-night. He's probably in the local newspaper
office at the present moment, dictating the first instalment of
his reminiscences. Lady What's-her-name's book won't be in it.
It will be the event of the day."
Having made this contribution to the general cheerfulness, Clovis
went to bed. At long intervals the various members of the house-
party followed his example.
The servants taking round the early tea made a uniform
announcement in reply to a uniform question. Tobermory had not
returned.
Breakfast was, if anything, a more unpleasant function than dinner
had been, but before its conclusion the situation was relieved.
Tobermory's corpse was brought in from the shrubbery, where a
gardener had just discovered it. From the bites on his throat and
the yellow fur which coated his claws it was evident that he had
fallen in unequal combat with the big Tom from the Rectory.
By midday most of the guests had quitted the Towers, and after
lunch Lady Blemley had sufficiently recovered her spirits to write
an extremely nasty letter to the Rectory about the loss of her
valuable pet.
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