"All of them are, but good enough for a stab," said Mr. Flexen.




CHAPTER VI


Olivia had very little appetite for breakfast. It is to be doubted,
indeed, whether she was aware of what she was eating. Elizabeth Twitcher
hovered about her, solicitous, pressing her to eat more. She was fond of
her mistress, and very uneasy lest she should have harmed her seriously
by her careless gossiping the night before. But she was surprised by the
exceedingly anxious and worried expression which dwelt on Olivia's face.
Her air grew more and more harassed. The murder of her husband had
doubtless been a shock, but he had been such a husband. Elizabeth
Twitcher had expected her mistress to cry a little about his death, and
then grow serene as she realized what a good riddance it was. But Olivia
had not cried, and she showed no likelihood whatever of becoming serene.

At the end of her short breakfast she lit a cigarette, and began to pace
up and down her sitting-room with a jerky, nervous gait, quite unlike her
wonted graceful, easy, swinging walk. She had to relight her cigarette,
and as she did so, Elizabeth Twitcher, who was clearing away the
breakfast, perceived that her hands were shaking. There was plainly more
in the matter than Elizabeth Twitcher had supposed, and she wondered,
growing more and more uneasy.

When she went downstairs with the tray she learned that Dr. Thornhill was
examining the wound which had caused the Lord Loudwater's death, and that