English fiction -- 20th century; Husband and wife -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Short stories, English
Amid a roar of laughter, Virginia clapped her hands to her mouth.
“I have said the wrong thing, haven’t I? Never mind. Constable, I’m sure
from your face you know when to be deaf.”
P.C. Bloke grinned respectfully.
“I ’ope so, madam.”
“That’s right,” said Virginia. “And now what can we do for you?”
The constable turned to Derry.
“Major Peruke, sir?”
“That’s right,” said Derry comfortably. “What have I done?”
“Nothin’ at all, sir,” said Bloke hastily. “I’m not after you. But I
think you’ve a limousine car, sir,” he added with a business-like air.
“So I have,” said Derry Peruke.
“Number XH 2908, sir.”
“Quite right,” said Derry, wondering what was afoot.
“Were you usin’ ’er early this mornin’, sir?”
Virginia started, Rosemary caught her breath, and Roger, who had been
about to drink, held his refreshment for a moment half-way to his lips
and then replaced it untasted upon a table. Of the four Peruke alone
betrayed no emotion at all.
“Yes,” he said casually enough. “Drove here from Carlton House Terrace
about—about half-past two, wasn’t it, dear?”
Bitterly conscious of an unusually high, if becoming colour—
“Exactly,” replied his wife. “I heard the clock at the Palace strike as
we passed.”
“Did you use ’er before that, sir—this side of midnight?”
In an electric silence Derry shook his head.
“Not after midnight,” he said. “I drove to Carlton House Terrace about
eleven and home about half-past two, but that was all.”
The constable raised his eyebrows.
“Then I’m afraid she was bein’ used, sir, without your authority. An’ as
this is rather important, I’d like a word with your chauffeur—if you’ve
no objection.”
There was another silence.
Violently red in the face, Captain Chase sat like a graven image,
wide-eyed but sightless. One slight hand to her mouth, Rosemary, still
as death, stared upon the floor.
Realizing that something must be done, and done quickly, Virginia took a
deep breath.
“You say ‘before midnight’?” she said barefacedly.
“_After_ midnight, madam,” corrected P.C. Bloke.
“Oh, I used her _after_ midnight,” said Virginia. “I thought you were
talking about before.”
“No, after, dear,” said Derry gallantly.
“Oh, I used her after midnight.” She turned to her husband. “I felt I
must have some air, so I sent for Filmer and went for a little drive.”
“Ah, that explains it,” said Derry, waving a hand. As though released
from a spell, Captain and Mrs. Chase relaxed their muscles and murmured
their concurrence. “Anything else, Constable?”
“If you please, sir.” He turned to Virginia. “Excuse me askin’ you,
madam, but were you alone?”
Supercharged with resentment and mortification, Virginia could have
burst.
Instead, she turned to Roger.
“Did you come with me or not? I know you said you were going to, but I
went to sleep almost at once, and——”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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