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a moment in the inner breast…pocket of his coat。 He drew out a folded
slip of paper。 The Duchess snatched at it in almost indecent haste and
moved appreciably nearer the fireplace。
〃Was this in the SUB…ROSA'S strong…box？〃 she asked。
〃Oh no；〃 said Vasco carelessly； 〃that is a list of the well…known
people who would be involved in a very disagreeable scandal if the
SUB…ROSA'S papers were made public。 I've put you at the head of it；
otherwise it follows alphabetical order。〃
The Duchess gazed helplessly at the string of names； which seemed
for the moment to include nearly every one she knew。 As a matter of
fact； her own name at the head of the list exercised an almost paralysing
effect on her thinking faculties。
〃Of course you have destroyed the papers？〃 she asked； when she had
somewhat recovered herself。 She was conscious that she made the
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remark with an entire lack of conviction。
Vasco shook his head。
〃But you should have；〃 said Lulu angrily； 〃if； as you say； they are
highly compromising … 〃
〃Oh； they are； I assure you of that；〃 interposed the young man。
〃Then you should put them out of harm's way at once。 Supposing
anything should leak out； think of all these poor； unfortunate people who
would be involved in the disclosures；〃 and Lulu tapped the list with an
agitated gesture。
〃Unfortunate； perhaps； but not poor；〃 corrected Vasco； 〃if you read
the list carefully you'll notice that I haven't troubled to include anyone
whose financial standing isn't above question。〃
Lulu glared at her nephew for some moments in silence。 Then she
asked hoarsely： 〃What are you going to do？〃
〃Nothing … for the remainder of my life；〃 he answered meaningly。
〃A little hunting； perhaps；〃 he continued； 〃and I shall have a villa at
Florence。 The Villa Sub…Rosa would sound rather quaint and
picturesque； don't you think； and quite a lot of people would be able to
attach a meaning to the name。 And I suppose I must have a hobby； I
shall probably collect Raeburns。〃
Lulu's relative； who lived at the Court of Monaco； got quite a
snappish answer when she wrote recommending some further invention
in the realm of marine research。
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THE COBWEB
THE farmhouse kitchen probably stood where it did as a matter of
accident or haphazard choice； yet its situation might have been planned
by a master…strategist in farmhouse architecture。 Dairy and poultry…
yard； and herb garden； and all the busy places of the farm seemed to
lead by easy access into its wide flagged haven； where there was room
for everything and where muddy boots left traces that were easily swept
away。 And yet； for all that it stood so well in the centre of human
bustle； its long； latticed window； with the wide window…seat； built into
an embrasure beyond the huge fireplace； looked out on a wild spreading
view of hill and heather and wooded combe。 The window nook made
almost a little room in itself； quite the pleasantest room in the farm as far
as situation and capabilities went。 Young Mrs。 Ladbruk； whose
husband had just come into the farm by way of inheritance； cast
covetous eyes on this snug corner； and her fingers itched to make it
bright and cosy with chintz curtains and bowls of flowers； and a shelf or
two of old china。 The musty farm parlour； looking out on to a prim；
cheerless garden imprisoned within high； blank walls； was not a room
that lent itself readily either to comfort or decoration。
〃When we are more settled I shall work wonders in the way of
making the kitchen habitable；〃 said the young woman to her occasional
visitors。 There was an unspoken wish in those words； a wish which
was unconfessed as well as unspoken。 Emma Ladbruk was the
mistress of the farm； jointly with her husband she might have her say；
and to a certain extent her way； in ordering its affairs。 But she was
not mistress of the kitchen。
On one of the shelves of an old dresser； in company with chipped
sauce…boats； pewter jugs； cheese…graters； and paid bills； rested a worn
and ragged Bible； on whose front page was the record； in faded ink； of a
baptism dated ninety…four years ago。 〃Martha Crale〃 was the name
written on that yellow page。 The yellow； wrinkled old dame who
hobbled and muttered about the kitchen； looking like a dead autumn leaf
which the winter winds still pushed hither and thither； had once been
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Martha Crale； for seventy odd years she had been Martha Mountjoy。
For longer than anyone could remember she had pattered to and fro
between oven and wash…house and dairy； and out to chicken…run and
garden； grumbling and muttering and scolding； but working unceasingly。
Emma Ladbruk； of whose coming she took as little notice as she would
of a bee wandering in at a window on a summer's day； used at first to
watch her with a kind of frightened curiosity。 She was so old and so
much a part of the place； it was difficult to think of her exactly as a
living thing。 Old Shep； the white…nozzled； stiff…limbed collie； waiting
for his time to die； seemed almost more human than the withered；
dried…up old woman。 He had been a riotous； roystering puppy； mad
with the joy of life； when