There was a short silence. “Lady Stanworth didn’t seem to be on very good terms with him, though, did she?” Roger remarked carelessly, prodding at the tobacco in his pipe with a match-stalk. “Do you think so?” Mrs. Plant returned guardedly. “She certainly gave me that impression. In fact, I should have gone farther. I should have said that she positively disliked him.” Mrs. Plant looked at the speaker with distaste. “There are secrets in every household, I suppose,” she said shortly. “Don’t you think that it is a little impertinent for outsiders to probe into them? Especially under circumstances like these.” “That’s one for me,” Roger smiled, quite unabashed. “Yes, I suppose it is, Mrs. Plant. The trouble is, you see, that I simply can’t help it. I’m the most curious person alive. Everything interests me, especially every human thing, and I’ve just got to get to the bottom of it. And you must admit that the relations between Lady Stanworth, of all people, and the—shall we say?—somewhat plebeian Mr. Stanworth, are uncommonly interesting to a novelist.” “Everything is ‘copy’ to you, you mean?” Mrs. Plant retorted, though less uncompromisingly. “Well, if you put it like that I suppose you may have a certain amount of reason; though I don’t admit the justification for all that. Yes, I believe Lady Stanworth did not get on very well with her brother-in-law. After all, it’s only to be expected, isn’t it?” “Is it?” asked Roger quickly. “Why?” “Well, because of the circumstances of——” Mrs. Plant broke off abruptly and bit her lip. “Because of the blood and water idea, I suppose. They were utterly unlike each other in every way.” “That isn’t what you were going to say. What had you got in mind when you corrected yourself?” Mrs. Plant flushed slightly. “Really, Mr. Sheringham, I——” Alec rose suddenly from his chair. “I say, it’s awfully hot in this room,” he remarked abruptly. “Come into the garden and get some air, Roger, I’m sure Mrs. Plant will excuse us.” Mrs. Plant flashed a grateful look at him. “Certainly,” she said, in somewhat agitated tones. “I—I think I shall go upstairs and lie down for a little myself. I have rather a headache.” The two men watched her go out of the room in silence. Then Alec turned to Roger. “Look here,” he said heatedly, “I’m not going to let you bully that poor little woman like this. It’s a bit too thick. You get a lot of damned silly notions into your head about her, and then you try to bully her into confirming them. I’m not going to stand for it.” Roger shook his head in mock despair. “Really, Alexander,” he said tragically, “you are a difficult person, you know. Extraordinarily difficult.” “Well, it’s getting past a joke,” Alec retorted a little more calmly, though his face was still flushed with anger. “We can do what we want without bullying women.” “And just when I was getting along so nicely!” Roger mourned. “You make a rotten Watson, Alec. I can’t think why I ever took you on in the part.”