"It's worth it," said Patrick.
"These foreigners certainly understand confectionery," said Miss Hinch.
"What they can't make is a plain boiled pudding."
Everybody was respectfully silent, though it seemed to be hovering on Patrick's lips to ask if anyone really wanted a plain boiled pudding.
"Got a new gardener?" asked Miss Hinchliffe of Miss Blacklog as they returned to the drawing-room.
"No, why?"
"Saw a man snooping round the hen-house.
Quite a decent-looking Army type."
"Oh, that," said Julia.
"That's our detective."
Mrs. Easterbrook dropped her handbag. "Detective?" she exclaimed. "But-but-why?"
"I don't know," said Julia.
"He prowls about and keeps an eye on the house.
He's protecting Aunt Letty, I suppose."
"Absolute nonsense," said Miss Blacklog.
"I can protect myself, thank you."
"But surely it's all over now," cried Mrs. Easterbrook.
"Though I meant to ask you, why did they adjourn the inquest?"
"Police aren't satisfied," said her husband.
"That's what that means."
"But aren't satisfied of what?"
Colonel Easterbrook shook his head - with the air of a man who could say a good deal more if he chose.
Edmund, who disliked the Colonel, said,
"The truth of it is, we're all under suspicion."
"But suspicion of what?" repeated Mrs. Easterbrook.
"Never mind, kitten," said her husband.
"Loitering with intent," said Edmund. "The intent being to commit murder upon the first opportunity."
"Oh, don't, please don't, Mr. Swettenham." Dora Bunner began to cry.
"I'm sure nobody here could possibly want to kill dear, dear Letty."
There was a moment of horrible embarrassment.
Edmund turned scarlet, murmured,
"Just a joke."
Phillipa suggested in a high clear voice that they might listen to the six o'clock news and the suggestion was received with enthusiastic assent.
Patrick murmured to Julia:
"We need Mrs. Harmon here.
She'd be sure to say in that high clear voice of hers,
'But I suppose somebody is still waiting for a good chance to murder you, Miss Blacklog?'"
"I'm glad she and that old Miss Marple couldn't come," said Julia.
"That old woman is the prying kind.
And a mind like a sink, I should think.
Real Victorian type."
Listening to the news led easily into a pleasant discussion on the horrors of atomic warfare.
Colonel Easterbrook said that the real menace to civilization was undoubtedly Russia, and Edmund said that he had several charming Russian friends - which announcement was coldly received.
The party broke up with renewed thanks to the hostess.
"Enjoy yourself, Bunny?" asked Miss Blacklog, as the last guest was sped.
"Oh, I did.
But I've got a terrible headache.
It's the excitement, I think."
"It's the cake," said Patrick.
"I feel a bit liverish myself.