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Authors: Peggy Gaddis

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Chapter Thirteen

It
was
a
few
days later and mid-afternoon. In the solarium, all was peace and quiet. Most of the guests had gone away to their own room for after-luncheon naps.

At a table in a corner, Mrs. Barton, partnered by Mr. Hodding, with another couple helping, was being given an extra lesson in bridge. Flushed, bright eyed as a young girl, she was concentrating on her cards, absorbed in acquiring all the knowledge that would make it possible for her to play what she called

real bridge

when she was invited to make up a foursome.

Across the room, beside a glass panel that spilled the warm golden sunlight over her, Mrs. Keenan was absorbed in the stock market reports in
The New York Times
which was delivered to her daily. A few other guests were scattered about the big room, all intent on their own books or newspapers or magazines.

Suddenly the quiet was shattered by a ragged scream from Mrs. Keenan, and, startled, the others stared at her, where she sat, with one hand clasped against her stomach, her face white beneath its careful make-up, her eyes enormous.


I

ve been poisoned!

she shrieked wildly.

It was that fish we had for lunch. I knew it wasn

t fresh the moment I tasted it—

Her screams had startled the others to their feet, and now there was a milling about her, a commotion that brought two P.N.s on the run, with Hilary hurrying behind them.

Mrs. Keenan was screaming and struggling, and the word

poison

seemed to hang scarlet and terrifying in the air. It was Mrs. Barton who took action. She stepped forward, struck Mrs. Keenan smartly in the face, making her swallow a scream in choked incredulity, as she stared at the small, belligerent figure in front of her.


You ate too much lunch and you

ve got indigestion,

Mrs. Barton said sternly.

That second piece of strawberry cream pie that the waitress didn

t want to give you but you made such a fuss she had to—


What

s all this?

demanded Hilary sharply.


I

ve been poisoned!

Mrs. Keenan had regained the voice lost when Mrs. Barton had slapped her.

And this—this miserable little nobody dared to strike me!

Mrs. Barton nodded at Hilary

s shocked look.


She was hysterical and making a fuss and I slapped her,

said Mrs. Barton pleasantly.


I

ve been poisoned! We

ve all been poisoned! That fish we had for lunch was tainted and everybody who ate it will be poisoned,

screamed Mrs. Keenan, and Hilary took charge of her.


Be quiet, Mrs. Keenan; you

ll upset the whole place,

Hilary ordered sharply.

Come on; let me get you to your room.


I won

t go until everybody

s been warned. Maybe we can be saved if help comes in time
...

Mrs. Keenan was still shrieking as Hilary and Mr. Hodding, moving capably forward, drew her out of the solarium; and all up and down the corridor, doors popped open, guests aroused from naps peering out at the screaming, struggling virago Hilary and Mr. Hooding were guiding to her room.

One of the P.N.s, scared and wide-eyed, moved forward to help Hilary get the wildly hysterical woman to her bed, while Mr. Hodding slipped out of the room and the other P.N. hurried off to summon Dr. Marsden.

The corridor now was filled with anxious guests in varying stages of disarray, and those from the solarium who had witnessed Mrs. Keenan

s outburst.


She said it was the fish,

someone babbled.

I ate the fish.
Was
it bad?

Voices rang along the corridor, anxious, worried, rapidly attaining the semblance of hysteria, as Dr. Marsden came swiftly along the corridor and disappeared into Mrs. Keenan

s room, from which wails still were heard.


Now listen to me, everybody.

Mrs. Barton

s voice was
surprisingly loud.

Stop this nonsense! We all ate the fish and none of us is ill—


Except Mrs. Keenan, who seems in very bad shape,

protested a man anxiously.


Mrs. Keenan not only ate the fish, as we all did, but she also ate two large pieces of the strawberry cream pie, and she knows she

s not supposed to eat that.

Mrs. Barton

s voice, authoritative, calm, sensible, rode down sternly against the rising tide of hysteria.

What Mrs. Keenan has is a very unpleasant attack of acute indigestion; but then she brought it on herself. Anybody who stuffs themselves with everything they can get their hands on, just to be sure they get value for every penny they pay out here, can have acute indigestion! But there was nothing wrong with the fish.


Well, my stomach is a little upset,

some woman whined. Before Mrs. Barton could answer, the door behind them opened and Dr. Marsden came out, surveying them sternly.


Mrs. Keenan is suffering from acute indigestion,

he told them sharply.

I must ask you all to go to your rooms, or else the solarium or club room. I

d like it quiet here, please.


Is she going to—pass away?

asked a fearful voice.

Dr. Marsden sought for the speaker in the crowd, and managed not to grin.


Not from anything she ate at lunch, I can assure you, and not for a good many years, I feel sure,

he told the entire group.

Please go to your own rooms. I

ll be glad to check you all as soon as I

ve done what I can for Mrs. Keenan. She

s very uncomfortable and must have quiet. Thank you.

He disappeared once more into Mrs. Keenan

s room, and the door, opened and closed so briefly, gave them the sound of Mrs. Keenan

s groans.

The group dispersed, those who had been taking naps back to their own rooms pausing at their doors to whisper, and then to close the doors behind them.

Mr. Hodding looked down at Mrs. Barton with such warm admiration that she blushed like a young girl.


Miss Lily-Mae,

he said quietly,

you

re wonderful.

Mrs. Barton dismissed the compliment with a little wave of her hand.


You mean because I slapped her? She was hysterical, and as far as I know, it

s still the best method of quelling hysteria,

she told him. She was thoughtful as they walked back to the solarium, to the disarranged bridge table.

There

s something that worries me a little, though.


Is there?

He was gentle, amused, interested.

She met his eyes and then glanced away.


It

s that—well, I slapped her because she was hysterical and I wanted to quiet her,

she admitted.

But there

s something else that makes me feel ashamed.


I can

t think what that could be.


It

s that I enjoyed slapping her,

she confessed.

Mr. Hodding chuckled, a warm twinkle in his eyes.


I, too, have a confession to make,

he told her.

I envied you.

Wide-eyed, she gasped,

You did?


I certainly did,

he admitted.

I think practically everybody in the Club, guests and attendants alike, envied you the excellent opportunity of socking the lady.

Mrs. Barton gave a small chuckle, almost a giggle.


Aren

t we wicked?

she murmured, abashed and yet inescapably amused.


I suppose so,

Mr. Hodding agreed reluctantly.

But it

s fun, isn

t it?

And they beamed at each other like two naughty children. Inevitably, news of Mrs. Keenan

s illness ran through the place. When it reached the kitchen, Raoul, the chef whom Drew had hired away from Atlanta

s finest hotel and who had brought three of his most valued assistants, roared like a maddened bull. That anyone should complain of being poisoned by food from Raoul

s kitchen was unthinkable, unforgivable, an insult not to be borne.

He tore off his tall chef

s cap, flung it into a corner, followed it with his immaculate white coat and apron, and stormed into Drew

s office to offer his

resignation for himself and his assistants. The sound of his anger was a rumble even through the thickness of Drew

s door, and the guests clustered uneasily in the hall. Raoul stormed out of the office, pausing in the doorway to hurl a parting shot that was quite audible the length of the corridor.


So maybe I stay,

he roared.

But only if that beeg peeg that stuff herself like crazy for fear she won

t get her money

s worth makes me the public apology. She have insulted me publicly; she shall apologize to me publicly, or I queet!

The guests scattered out of his way as he strode majestically back to the kitchen wing, quivering with rage in every inch of his six-feet-two, and in every ounce of his two hundred and forty pounds.

Drew saw the huddled guests and came out into the corridor, smiling, urbane.


Mr. Ramsey,
was
Mrs. Keenan poisoned?

asked a worried little woman bravely.


My dear Mrs. Jennings, of course not!

Drew made light of the question.

Everybody here ate the fish, and only Mrs. Keenan was made ill. Perhaps she

s allergic to fish.

Smoothly, he managed to get them to disperse to their own rooms, or to the club room or solarium. But as they moved away, he knew with a savage anger that the Club had suffered a severe blow and prompt action must be taken to offset it.

He picked up the phone on his desk and asked for Dr.
Marsden

s office. And when Dr. Marsden spoke, Drew said curtly,

Come in here, Marsden, immediately.


Sorry, Drew, but I

ve several more clinic patients before I

m through here.


Stuart, this is important—


So are my clinic patients—


Was there any evidence of poisoning?

Drew broke in.


There was an attack of acute indigestion, due to the fact that lady refuses to obey a diet and always stuffs herself,

answered Dr. Marsden wearily, having answered the question, he felt, at least a hundred times that day.

A couple of days of bed rest and she

ll be right as rain, until the next time she eats too much strawberry cream pie.


I

ll tell Raoul to see to it that it doesn

t appear on the menu again,

Drew promised grimly.


Might be a good idea at that; a little too much for the elderly stomachs of our guests, anyway,

said Dr. Marsden, and the telephone clicked down.

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