Death in a White Tie by Ngaio Marsh Read Free Book Online

followed him into an old-fashioned study. Lord Robert sat at his desk and wrote a cheque with finicky movements of his fat hands. He blotted it meticulously and swung round in his chair to face his nephew.
    “You still of the same mind about this doctoring?” he asked.
    “Well, that’s the big idea,” said Donald.
    “Passed some examinations for it, didn’t you?”
    “Medical prelim,” said Donald easily. “Yes, I’ve got that.”
    “Before you were sent down for losing your mother’s money. And mine.”
    Donald was silent.
    “I’ll get you out of this mess on one condition. I don’t know the way you set about working for a medical degree. Our family’s been in the diplomatic for a good many generations. High time we did something else, I dare say. You’ll start work at Edinburgh as soon as they’ll have you. If that’s not at once I’ll get a coach and you’ll go to Archery and work there. I’ll show you as much as the usual medical student gets and I’ll advise your mother to give you no more. That’s all.”
    “Edinburgh! Archery!” Donald’s voice was shrill with dismay. “But I don’t want to go to Edinburgh for my training. I want to go to Thomas’s.”
    “You’re better away from London. There’s one other thing I must absolutely insist upon, Donald. You are to drop this feller Withers.”
    “Why should I?”
    “Because the feller’s a bad ’un. I know something about him. I have never interfered in the matter of your friendships before, but I’d be neglectin’ my duty like anything if I didn’t step in here.”
    “I won’t give up a friend simply because you choose to say he’s no good.”
    “I give you my word of honour this man’s a rotter — a criminal rotter. I was amazed when I recognized Withers this afternoon. My information dates from my Foreign Office days. It’s unimpeachable. Very bad record. Come now, be sensible. Make a clean break and forget all about him. Archery’s a nice old house. Your mother can use it as a
pied-à-terre
and see you sometimes. It’s only ten miles out of Edinburgh.”
    “But—”
    “Afraid it’s definite.”
    “But — I don’t want to leave London. I don’t want to muck about with a lot of earnest Scots from God knows where. I mean the sort of people who go there are just simply The End!”
    “Why?” asked Lord Robert.
    “Well, because, I mean, you know what I mean. They’ll be the most unspeakable curiosities. No doubt perfectly splendid but—”
    “But not in the same class with young men who contract debts of honour which they cannot meet and do the London season on their mother’s money?”
    “That’s not fair,” cried Donald hotly.
    “Why?” repeated Lord Robert.
    “I’ll bet you got into the same sort of jams when you were my age.”
    “You’re wrong,” said Lord Robert mildly. “I did as many silly things as most young men of my day. But I did not contract debts that I was unable to settle. It seemed to me that sort ofthing amounted to theft. I didn’t steal clothes from my tailor, drink from my hotel, or money from my friends.”
    “But I knew it would be all right in the end.”
    “You mean, you knew I’d pay?”
    “I’m not ungrateful,” said Donald angrily.
    “My dear fellow, I don’t want you to be grateful.”
    “But I won’t go and stay in a deserted mausoleum of a Scotch house in the middle of the season. There’s — there’s Bridget.”
    “Lady Carrados’s gel? Is she fond of you?”
    “Yes.”
    “She seems a nice creature. You’re fortunate. Not one of these screeching rattles. She’ll wait for you.”
    “I won’t go.”
    “M’dear boy, I’m sorry, but you’ve no alternative.”
    Donald’s face was white but two scarlet patches burned on his cheek-bones. His lips trembled. Suddenly he burst out violently.
    “You can keep your filthy money,” he shouted. “By God, I’ll look after myself. I’ll borrow from someone who’s not a bloody complacent Edwardian relic