I gathered up the heavy volumes and looked round the morning-room for somewhere to put them.
They were out of place in that fragile delicate room.
Never mind, it was my room now, after all.
I arranged them in a row on the top of the desk.
They swayed dangerously, leaning one against the other.
I stood back a bit, to watch the effect.
Perhaps I moved too quickly, and it disturbed them.
At any rate the foremost one fell, and the others slid after him.
They upset a little china cupid who had hitherto stood alone on the desk except for the candlesticks.
He fell to the ground, hitting the waste-paper basket as he did so, and broke into fragments.
I glanced hurriedly at the door, like a guilty child.
I knelt on the floor and swept up the pieces into my hand.
I found an envelope to put them in. I hid the envelope at the back of one of the drawers in the desk.
Then I took the books off to the library and found room for them on the shelves.
Maxim laughed when I showed them to him with pride.
'Dear old Bee,' he said, 'you must have had a success with her.
She never opens a book if she can help it.'
'Did she say anything about — well — what she thought of me?' I asked.
'The day she came to lunch?
No, I don't think so.'
'I thought she might have written or something.'
'Beatrice and I don't correspond unless there's a major event in the family.
Writing letters is a waste of time,' said Maxim.
I supposed I was not a major event.
Yet if I had been Beatrice, and had a brother, and the brother married, surely one would have said something, expressed an opinion, written two words?
Unless of course one had taken a dislike to the wife, or thought her unsuitable.
Then of course it would be different.
Still, Beatrice had taken the trouble to go up to London and to buy the books for me.
She would not have done that if she disliked me.
It was the following day I remember, when Frith, who had brought in the coffee after lunch to the library, waited a moment, hovering behind Maxim, and said,
'Could I speak to you, sir?'
Maxim glanced up from his paper.
'Yes, Frith, what is it?' he said, rather surprised.
Frith wore a stiff solemn expression, his lips pursed.
I thought at once his wife had died.
'It's about Robert, sir.
There has been a slight unpleasantness between him and Mrs Danvers.
Robert is very upset.'
'Oh, Lord,' said Maxim, making a face at me.
I bent down to fondle Jasper, my unfailing habit in moments of embarrassment.
'Yes, sir.
It appears Mrs Danvers has accused Robert of secreting a valuable ornament from the morning-room.
It is Robert's business to bring in the fresh flowers to the morning-room and place the vases.
Mrs Danvers went in this morning after the flowers had been done, and noticed one of the ornaments was missing.
It was there yesterday, she said.
She accused Robert of either taking the ornament or breaking it and concealing the breakage.
Robert denied both accusations most emphatically, and came to me nearly in tears, sir.
You may have noticed he was not himself at lunch.'
'I wondered why he handed me the cutlets without giving me a plate,' murmured Maxim.
'I did not know Robert was so sensitive.