The Only Problem by Muriel Spark Page B

said
Stewart.
    But
Harvey was already pulling the flower-arrangement to bits. He shook each lily,
each daffodil; he tore at the petals of the irises. Stewart drank his drink and
told Harvey to calm down; he watched Harvey with his big blue eyes and then
took another sip. Harvey splashed the water from the bowl all over the table
and the floor. ‘I don’t see anything,’ he said.
    ‘From
what I understand the police have had every opportunity to plant bugs elsewhere
in the house; they need not introduce a bunch of flowers for the purpose,’
Stewart said. ‘What a mess you’ve made of a lovely bunch of flowers.’
    ‘I’d
take you out to dinner,’ said Harvey. He sat on the sofa with his dejected head
in his hands. He looked up. ‘I’d take you out to eat but I’ve got to wait in
for a call from Ruth. She’s in Paris but I don’t know where. I’ve got to let my
uncle in Toronto know the time of her arrival and her flight number. Did I tell
you that she’s taking the baby to my Uncle Joe’s?’
    ‘No,’
said Stewart.
    ‘Well,
she is. I’ve got to arrange for her to be met, and get through to Toronto and
give them reasonable notice. And I’ve got to have a call from Ernie Howe, I
think. At least he said he’d ring.’
    ‘How
many other things have you got to do?’
    ‘I don’t
know.’
    ‘Why
don’t you relax? You’re in a hell of a state.’
    ‘I
know. What are you supposed to be doing here?’
    ‘Giving
you some advice,’ Stewart said. ‘Of course, I can’t act for you here in France.’
    ‘I don’t
need anyone. I’ve got what’s-his-name in Paris if necessary.
    ‘Martin
Deschamps? — I’ve been in touch with him. He can’t act for you in a case like
this. No-one in his firm can, either. That means they won’t. Terrorism is too
unladylike for those fancy lawyers. I’m hungry.’
    ‘Let’s
sit down, then,’ said Harvey; they sat at the table to eat the cold supper.
Harvey’s hand shook as he started to pour the wine. He stopped and looked at
his hand. ‘I’m shaking,’ he said. ‘I wonder why Ruth hasn’t rung?’
    Stewart
took the bottle from him and poured out the wine. ‘Your nerves,’ he said.
    ‘She
must have had her dinner and put the baby to bed by now, ‘Harvey said. ‘I’ll
give it another hour, then I’m going to ring the police and find out where she
is. Ernie Howe should have rung, too.’
    ‘Maybe
she didn’t stop over in Paris. Perhaps she went straight to the airport.’
    ‘She
should have rung. She could have been taken ill. She’s pregnant.’
    ‘Is
she?’
    ‘So she
says.’
    The
telephone rang. An inspector of police, ‘M. Gotham? — I want to let you know
that Mine. Ruth Jansen has arrived in London.’
    ‘In
London? I thought she was going to stop overnight in Paris. I’ve arranged for
her to go to Canada to my —’She changed her mind.’
    ‘Where
is she in London?’
    ‘I can’t
tell you. Good night.’
     
     
    ‘If she didn’t ring you as
promised,’ said Stewart the next morning, ‘and Ernie Howe didn’t ring you as
promised, and if, in addition, it transpires she went to London, I should have
thought you would suspect that the two were together.’
    ‘You
think she has gone to Ernie Howe? Why should she go to him? She is pregnant by
me.’
    ‘She
has Ernie Howe’s baby in her arms. It would be natural to take her to the
father. You can’t possess everything, Harvey.’
    ‘Do you
know more than you say?’ said Harvey.
    ‘No, it’s
only a supposition.’
    ‘I’ll
ring Ernie Howe’s flat as soon as my call to Canada has come through. It’s hard
on my uncle, mucking him about like this. He’s not so young. I’ve just put
through a call.’
    ‘It’s
the middle of the night in Toronto,’ said Stewart.
    ‘I don’t
care.’
    Anne-Marie
arrived in her thick coat, scarves and boots. ‘Good morning,’ she said, and
then gave a pained wail. Her eyes were on the flowers that she had left in such
a formal display the