in control of his emotions.
‘I’m sure you must all remember now. While in the acute maniacal stage, in the middle of the night, she fata lly stabbed my brother-in-law Robert. And if it hadn’t been for the child’s nurse and myself hearing his dying screams, she would have killed the baby - yes, little Barnaby. We reached her only just in time to prevent a second murder.’
His audience sat stunned.
‘She couldn’t stand trial, of course. She was committed to a hospital for the criminally insane, but five years ago I managed to have her transferred to a private clinic.’
Uncle rubbed his hands wearily over his face.
‘My wife and I adopted Barnaby. I even added the name Gaunt to my own, so the child would have the feeling of security.’
‘And is your wife in Europe now?’ asked Mrs Brooks.
Life was almost insupportable to poor Uncle.
‘My wife was killed in a car accident six months later, Mrs Brooks.’
‘Oh, my dear’ cried Mrs Brooks.
Uncle took out a silken handkerchief and blew his nose.
‘Dying and leaving me was the only unkind thing Maudie ever did in her life,’ he said hoarsely.
‘My dear Major,’ said Mr Brooks. Even Sergeant Coulter looked affected.
Uncle Sylvester, momentarily overwhelmed by the appalling mortality rate of his family, raised a hand briefly to his dark glasses.
Sergeant Coulter blinked. He could have sworn the fellow had hair even on the palm of his hand. But that, of course, was impossible.
‘One learns to live with tragedy,’ said Uncle bravely. ‘Barnaby is all I have left, the only link I have with my dear Maude. So now you understand how deeply I appreciate your kindness to him.’
‘Anything we can do for that child is a privilege,’ said Mrs Brooks, reaching for her digitalis.
Oh, that Dickie should always follow such a dark star!
‘He’s so happy with you. I was talking to him on the dock. The little rascal wants to stay with you for the summer.’
Uncle gave a courageous laugh.
‘He and I have always been so close, but do you know, I hardly think he has missed me at all. You must have been very good indeed to him.’
‘Children are often cruel, but they don’t mean to be,’ said Mr Brooks. ‘Our boy Dickie, who had the most thoughtful disposition in the world, couldn’t wait to get overseas, even though he knew how lonely we’d be.’
‘Maudie and I never had a family,’ said Uncle sadly, ‘although we wanted one. So you see, Barnaby is doubly precious to me. I adore children.’
He did indeed. Several little girls to whom he had taken a fancy had vanished into thin air.
‘Which brings me to another problem,’ Uncle went on. ‘I had intended to spend the summer here with Barnaby, but I find now that business commitments make this impossible. The best I can do is to fly over a couple of times a week, so I suppose I must keep Barnaby in the city with me.’
‘Not at all, not at all,’ cried Mrs Brooks eagerly. ‘We’d love to have him for the summer, Major. He is such a dear little boy. I know this must sound selfish, but, you see, Major, we lost Dickie, our only child, in the war. Barnaby is so like him in some ways.’
Mr Brooks looked at Albert and cast her a nervous glance.
Uncle stood up.
‘My dear Mrs Brooks, and here I have been burdening you with my own private sorrow.’
‘Not at all,’ said Mrs Brooks, daubing her eyes, ‘we share a common bond in Barnaby.’
Uncle pondered. Barnaby’s welfare was a matter of prime concern to him.
‘I am wondering if it would not perhaps be unsettling for him to be shuttling back and forth between us.’ Uncle sighed again. ‘But you see, I must be a bit selfish myself. If I could, perhaps, have him over to the cottage, say, one evening a week?’
‘Of course, of course,’ cried Mr and Mrs Brooks. Sergeant Coulter, with a monumental effort, stifled a yawn.
Uncle took out his chequebook and wrote two cheques.
‘This is for Barnaby’s board and any incidental
‘I’m sure you must all remember now. While in the acute maniacal stage, in the middle of the night, she fata lly stabbed my brother-in-law Robert. And if it hadn’t been for the child’s nurse and myself hearing his dying screams, she would have killed the baby - yes, little Barnaby. We reached her only just in time to prevent a second murder.’
His audience sat stunned.
‘She couldn’t stand trial, of course. She was committed to a hospital for the criminally insane, but five years ago I managed to have her transferred to a private clinic.’
Uncle rubbed his hands wearily over his face.
‘My wife and I adopted Barnaby. I even added the name Gaunt to my own, so the child would have the feeling of security.’
‘And is your wife in Europe now?’ asked Mrs Brooks.
Life was almost insupportable to poor Uncle.
‘My wife was killed in a car accident six months later, Mrs Brooks.’
‘Oh, my dear’ cried Mrs Brooks.
Uncle took out a silken handkerchief and blew his nose.
‘Dying and leaving me was the only unkind thing Maudie ever did in her life,’ he said hoarsely.
‘My dear Major,’ said Mr Brooks. Even Sergeant Coulter looked affected.
Uncle Sylvester, momentarily overwhelmed by the appalling mortality rate of his family, raised a hand briefly to his dark glasses.
Sergeant Coulter blinked. He could have sworn the fellow had hair even on the palm of his hand. But that, of course, was impossible.
‘One learns to live with tragedy,’ said Uncle bravely. ‘Barnaby is all I have left, the only link I have with my dear Maude. So now you understand how deeply I appreciate your kindness to him.’
‘Anything we can do for that child is a privilege,’ said Mrs Brooks, reaching for her digitalis.
Oh, that Dickie should always follow such a dark star!
‘He’s so happy with you. I was talking to him on the dock. The little rascal wants to stay with you for the summer.’
Uncle gave a courageous laugh.
‘He and I have always been so close, but do you know, I hardly think he has missed me at all. You must have been very good indeed to him.’
‘Children are often cruel, but they don’t mean to be,’ said Mr Brooks. ‘Our boy Dickie, who had the most thoughtful disposition in the world, couldn’t wait to get overseas, even though he knew how lonely we’d be.’
‘Maudie and I never had a family,’ said Uncle sadly, ‘although we wanted one. So you see, Barnaby is doubly precious to me. I adore children.’
He did indeed. Several little girls to whom he had taken a fancy had vanished into thin air.
‘Which brings me to another problem,’ Uncle went on. ‘I had intended to spend the summer here with Barnaby, but I find now that business commitments make this impossible. The best I can do is to fly over a couple of times a week, so I suppose I must keep Barnaby in the city with me.’
‘Not at all, not at all,’ cried Mrs Brooks eagerly. ‘We’d love to have him for the summer, Major. He is such a dear little boy. I know this must sound selfish, but, you see, Major, we lost Dickie, our only child, in the war. Barnaby is so like him in some ways.’
Mr Brooks looked at Albert and cast her a nervous glance.
Uncle stood up.
‘My dear Mrs Brooks, and here I have been burdening you with my own private sorrow.’
‘Not at all,’ said Mrs Brooks, daubing her eyes, ‘we share a common bond in Barnaby.’
Uncle pondered. Barnaby’s welfare was a matter of prime concern to him.
‘I am wondering if it would not perhaps be unsettling for him to be shuttling back and forth between us.’ Uncle sighed again. ‘But you see, I must be a bit selfish myself. If I could, perhaps, have him over to the cottage, say, one evening a week?’
‘Of course, of course,’ cried Mr and Mrs Brooks. Sergeant Coulter, with a monumental effort, stifled a yawn.
Uncle took out his chequebook and wrote two cheques.
‘This is for Barnaby’s board and any incidental
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