Suspects—Nine by E.R. Punshon Read Free Book Online Page A

appearance, the haughty, almost challenging glances he gave around softened, however, by full, red, smiling lips. There was something a little hard, though, in his clear, light blue eyes, small and closely set, and something a little reckless as well, as though he, too, like Michael Tamar, like so many others in a world where no sense of security remains, were a gambler, but a gambler different from Tamar, in that he would be apt to stand aloof for a time and then, on sudden impulse, stake everything, all on the one throw.
    â€œMake a fine couple,” Bobby heard some one near him remark, and so indeed they did, a remarkable pair indeed, and there answered the first speaker a woman’s voice with in it an evident sneer.
    â€œPity they aren’t—a couple, I mean. Watch how they look at each other.”
    In fact, at that moment Flora and her companion had exchanged glances with what seemed like passion on his side, acceptance on hers. It was open, almost defiant, or rather, not so much defiant as forgetfulness that they stood in a crowded room. The woman by Bobby’s side who had spoken before laughed sneeringly and said,
    â€œWonder what Michael thinks. Will it be divorce or—?”
    â€œCan’t divorce,” the man said. “Tamar’s a Catholic—keen on it, too. Carries a lucky rosary in his pocket, they say, every time he goes on the Stock Exchange.”
    â€œDoes he tell his Father Confessor that?” the woman wondered.
    â€œProbably keeps it quiet,” her companion answered, and the woman said, 
    â€œWell, then, what will Michael Tamar do?”
    They moved away, so that Bobby heard no more, did hear the name ‘Holland Kent’ spoken by some one else with evident reference to Flora’s companion. Bobby had guessed as much already but yet the confirmation startled him as he remembered what Lady Alice had said. A good deal going on here, he thought, and how much did Lady Alice know? for how much, perhaps, was she responsible? He looked round, instinctively seeking for Mr. Tamar. He was there, not far away, but paying no attention to his wife or to Holland Kent. He had his back to them, he had another Blue Bird in his hand, intently, from small eyes very bright and vivid, he was watching the two young people by the window: Judy, the young man with the girlish nickname though with little that was feminine in his dark and rather heavy features, and ‘Ernie’, short for ‘Ernestine’, perhaps, the girl with the golden hair who now was saying a laughing goodbye to her companion.
    Bobby found his thoughts going back to Will Martin, said to be ‘keeping tabs’ on Flora. It was beginning to look as if Mr. Martin’s reports to his employer would contain much of interest. Michael Tamar moved forward, evidently intending to intercept Ernie Maddox as she went towards the door. Suddenly she swerved, disappeared into the crowd, joined a little group at one side, her back resolutely presented to Tamar. Was she purposely avoiding him? Bobby was inclined to think so, especially when, moving slightly, he got a glimpse of Tamar’s face, dark with rage, fierce and menacing even, as he turned to stare in the direction of Judy Patterson still standing by the window.
    Glance for glance, anger for anger, almost menace for menace, the young man gave back the older one, and then turned abruptly, as Tamar began to move in his direction, and went out through the window into the garden. The movement had evidently been made, as before Miss Maddox’s had been, with the object of avoiding Tamar, and then Bobby was not so sure, for he saw Judy make a slight movement with one hand that might have been a gesture of invitation to follow—or perhaps a challenge to do so or even of mere defiance. But Tamar stood still, scowling and muttering, and then turned to beckon to a waiter for yet another cocktail.
    Bobby told himself that Miss Ernie Maddox was