Colour Scheme by Ngaio Marsh

up from under his eyebrows and added in a curiously flat voice: “It wasn’t working.”
    Dikon experienced that wave of personal shame with which an amateur reciter at close quarters can embarrass his audience. It was such a bad lie. It was so clearly false. Questing so obviously knew that he was not believed. Even Dr. Ackrington seemed deflated and found nothing to say. After a moment Questing mumbled: “Well,
I
didn’t see it, anyway. They ought to have a wig-wag there.”
    “A red light some ten inches in diameter and you didn’t see it.”
    “I said it wasn’t working.”
    “We can check up on that,” said Simon.
    Questing turned on him. “You mind your own business,” he said, but his voice missed the note of anger, and it seemed to Dikon that there was something he could not bring himself to say.
    “Do you mind telling us where you had been?” Dr. Ackrington continued.
    “Pohutukawa Bay.”
    “But you were on the Peak road.”
    “I know I was. I thought I’d just take a run along the Peak road before I came home.”
    “You’d been to Pohutukawa Bay?”
    “I’m telling you I went there.”
    “To see the trees in flower?”
    “My God, why shouldn’t I go to see the pootacows! It’s a great sight isn’t it? Hundreds of people go don’t they? If you must know I thought it would be a nice little run for Mr. Gaunt. I thought I’d take a look-see if they were in full bloom before suggesting he went over there.”
    “But you must have heard that there is no bloom this year on the
pohutukawas
. Everybody’s talking about it.”
    For some inexplicable reason Questing looked pleased. “I hadn’t heard,” he said quickly. “I was astonished when I got there. It’s very, very disappointing. Just too bad.”
    Dr. Ackrington, also, looked pleased. He got up and stood with his back to Questing, his eyes fixed triumphantly on his brother-in-law.
    “Yes, but I don’t know what the devil you’re getting at both of you,” Colonel Claire complained. “I’ve been — ”
    “Do me the extraordinary kindness to hold your tongue, Edward.”
    “Look here, James!”
    “Cut it out, Dad,” said Simon. He looked at his uncle. “I reckon I’m satisfied,” he said roughly.
    “I am obliged to you. Thank you, Mr. Questing. I fancy we need detain, you no longer.”
    Questing drew at his cigar, exhaled a long dribble of smoke and remained where he was. “
Wait
a bit,
wait
a bit,” he said, speaking in the best tradition of the cinema boss. “You’re satisfied, huh? O.K. That’s fine. That’s swell. What about me? Just because I’ve got an instinct about the right way to behave when we’ve distinguished guests among us, you think you can get away with dynamite. I’ve tried to save Mr. Gaunt the embarrassment of this scene. I apologize to Mr. Gaunt. I’d like him to know that when I’ve taken over this joint the resemblance to a giggle-house will fade out automatically.” He walked to the door. “But we
must
have an exit line,” Gaunt muttered. Questing turned. “And just in case you didn’t hear me, Claire,” he said magnificently, “I said
when
and not
if
. Good evening.”
    He did his best to slam the door but true to the tradition of the house it jammed half-way and he wisely made no second attempt. He walked slowly past the windows with his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat, making much of his hour.
    As soon as he had passed out of earshot, Colonel Claire raised a piteous cry of protest. He hadn’t understood. He would never understand. What was all this about Pohutukawa Bay? Nobody had told him anything about it. On the contrary —
    With extraordinary complacency, Dr. Ackrington cut in: “Nobody told you it was a bad year for
pohutukawas
, my good Edward, for the conclusive reason that it is a phenomenonally good year. The Bay is ablaze with blossom. I laid for your friend Questing, Edward, and, as Simon’s intolerable jargon would have it — did he fall!”
iv
    After the