with your window open or shut?’
‘Open. I like lots of air.’
‘Do you and Basil enjoy the same kind of food?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you like going to bed early or late?’
‘Really, under the rose, early. At half past ten I yawn—and I secretly feel rather hearty in the mornings—but of course I daren’t admit it.’
‘You ought to suit each other very well,’ said Mr Parker Pyne.
‘Rather a superficial test.’
‘Not at all. I have known seven marriages at least, entirely wrecked, because the husband liked sitting up till midnight and the wife fell asleep at half past nine and vice versa.’
‘It’s a pity,’ said Betty, ‘that everybody can’t be happy. Basil and I, and his mother giving us her blessing.’
Mr Parker Pyne coughed.
‘I think,’ he said, ‘that that could possibly be managed.’
She looked at him doubtfully.
‘Now I wonder,’ she said, ‘if you’re double-crossing me?’
Mr Parker Pyne’s face told nothing.
To Mrs Chester he was soothing, but vague. An engagement was not marriage. He himself was going to Soller for a week. He suggested that her line of action should be non-committal. Let her appear to acquiesce.
He spent a very enjoyable week at Soller.
On his return he found that a totally unexpected development had arisen.
As he entered the Pino d’Oro the first thing he saw was Mrs Chester and Betty Gregg having tea together. Basil was not there. Mrs Chester looked haggard. Betty, too, was looking off colour. She was hardly made-up at all, and her eyelids looked as though she had been crying.
They greeted him in a friendly fashion, but neither of them mentioned Basil.
Suddenly he heard the girl beside him draw in her breath sharply as though something had hurt her. Mr Parker Pyne turned his head.
Basil Chester was coming up the steps from the sea front. With him was a girl so exotically beautiful that it quite took your breath away. She was dark and her figure was marvellous. No one could fail to notice the fact since she wore nothing but a single garment of pale blue crêpe. She was heavily made-up with ochre powder and an orange scarlet mouth—but the unguents only displayed her remarkable beauty in a more pronounced fashion. As for young Basil, he seemed unable to take his eyes from her face.
‘You’re very late, Basil,’ said his mother. ‘You were to have taken Betty to Mac’s.’
‘My fault,’ drawled the beautiful unknown. ‘We just drifted.’ She turned to Basil. ‘Angel—get me something with a kick in it!’
She tossed off her shoe and stretched out her manicured toenails which were done emerald green to match her fingernails.
She paid no attention to the two women, but she leaned a little towards Mr Parker Pyne.
‘Terrible island this,’ she said. ‘I was just dying with boredom before I met Basil. He is rather a pet!’
‘Mr Parker Pyne—Miss Ramona,’ said Mrs Chester.
The girl acknowledged the introduction with a lazy smile.
‘I guess I’ll call you Parker almost at once,’ she murmured. ‘My name’s Dolores.’
Basil returned with the drinks. Miss Ramona divided her conversation (what there was of it—it was mostly glances) between Basil and Mr Parker Pyne. Of the two women she took no notice whatever. Betty attempted once or twice to join in the conversation but the other girl merely stared at her and yawned.
Suddenly Dolores rose.
‘Guess I’ll be going along now. I’m at the other hotel. Anyone coming to see me home?’
Basil sprang up.
‘I’ll come with you.’
Mrs Chester said: ‘Basil, my dear—’
‘I’ll be back presently, Mother.’
‘Isn’t he the mother’s boy?’ Miss Ramona asked of the world at large. ‘Just toots round after her, don’t you?’
Basil flushed and looked awkward. Miss Ramona gave a nod in Mrs Chester’s direction, a dazzling smile to Mr Parker Pyne and she and Basil moved off together.
After they had gone there was rather an awkward silence. Mr Parker Pyne did not like to speak first. Betty Gregg was twisting her fingers and looking out to sea. Mrs Chester looked flushed and angry.
Betty said: ‘Well, what do you think of our new acquisition in Pollensa Bay?’ Her voice was not quite steady.
Mr Parker Pyne said cautiously:
‘A little—er—exotic.’
‘Exotic?’ Betty gave a short bitter laugh.
Mrs Chester said: ‘She’s terrible—terrible. Basil must be quite mad.’
Betty said sharply: ‘Basil’s all right.’
‘Her toenails,’ said Mrs Chester with a shiver of nausea.
Betty rose suddenly.
‘I think, Mrs Chester, I’ll go home and not stay to dinner after all.’
‘Oh, my dear—Basil will be so disappointed.’
‘Will he?’ asked Betty with a short laugh. ‘Anyway, I think I will. I’ve got rather a headache.’
She smiled at them both and went off. Mrs Chester turned to Mr Parker Pyne.
‘I wish we had never come to this place—never!’
Mr Parker Pyne shook his head sadly.
‘You shouldn’t have gone away,’ said Mrs Chester. ‘If you’d been here this wouldn’t have happened.’
Mr Parker Pyne was stung to respond.
‘My dear lady, I can assure you that when it comes to a question of a beautiful young woman, I should have no influence over your son whatever. He—er—seems to be of a very susceptible nature.’
‘He never used to be,’ said Mrs Chester tearfully.
‘Well,’ said Mr Parker Pyne with an attempt at cheerfulness, ‘this new attraction seems to have broken the back of his infatuation for Miss Gregg. That must be some satisfaction to you.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Mrs Chester. ‘Betty is a dear child and devoted to Basil. She is behaving extremely well over this. I think my boy must be mad.’
Mr Parker Pyne received this startling change of face without wincing. He had met inconsistency in women before. He said mildly:
‘Not exactly mad—just bewitched.’
‘The creature’s a Dago. She’s impossible.’
‘But extremely good-looking.’
Mrs Chester snorted.
Basil ran up the steps from the sea front.
‘Hullo, Mater, here I am. Where’s Betty?’
‘Betty’s gone home with a headache. I don’t wonder.’
‘Sulking, you mean.’
‘I consider, Basil, that you are being extremely unkind to Betty.’
‘For God’s sake, Mother, don’t jaw. If Betty is going to make this fuss every time I speak to another girl a nice sort of life we’ll lead