Spider's Web

"But, Henry, it's true," she insisted. "And that's only the beginning. The police came, and it was just one thing after another." She was beginning to babble. "There was a narcotic ring, and Miss Peake isn't Miss Peake, she's really Mrs. Brown, and Jeremy turned out to be the murderer and he was trying to steal a stamp worth fourteen thousand pounds."

"Hmm! Must have been a second Swedish yellow," Henry commented. His tone was indulgent, but he was not really listening.

"I believe that's just what it was!" Clarissa exclaimed delightedly.

"Really, the things you imagine, Clarissa," said Henry affectionately. He moved the small table, set it between the armchair and the easy chair, and flicked the crumbs off it with his handkerchief.

"But, darling, I didn't imagine it," Clarissa went on. "I couldn't have imagined half as much."

Henry put his brief-case behind a cushion on the sofa, plumped up another cushion, then made his way with a third cushion to the easy chair. Meanwhile, Clarissa continued her attempts to engage his attention. "How extraordinary it is," she observed. "All my life nothing has really happened to me, and tonight I've had the lot. Murder, police, drug addicts, invisible ink, secret writing, almost arrested for manslaughter, and very nearly murdered." She paused and looked at Henry. "You know, darling, in a way it's almost too much all in one evening."

"Do go and make that coffee, darling," Henry replied. "You can tell me all your lovely rigmarole tomorrow."

Clarissa looked exasperated. "But don't you realize, Henry," she asked him, "that I was nearly murdered this evening?"

Henry looked at his watch. "Either Sir John or Mr. Jones might arrive at any minute," he said anxiously.

"What I've been through this evening," Clarissa continued. "Oh dear, it reminds me of Sir Walter Scott."

"What does?" Henry asked vaguely as he looked around the room to make sure that everything was now in its proper place.

"My aunt made me learn it by heart," Clarissa recalled.

Henry looked at her questioningly, and she recited, "'Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practise to deceive!'"

Suddenly conscious of her, Henry leaned over the armchair and put his arms around her. "My adorable spider!" he said.

Clarissa placed her arms on his shoulders. "Do you know the facts of life about spiders?" she asked him. "They eat their husbands." She scratched his neck with her fingers.

"I'm more likely to eat you," Henry replied passionately as he kissed her.

The front-door bell suddenly rang. "Sir John!" gasped Clarissa, starting away from Henry, who exclaimed at the same time, "Mr. Jones!"

Clarissa pushed Henry towards the hall door. "You go out and answer the front door," she ordered. "I'll put coffee and sandwiches in the hall, and you can bring them in here when you're ready for them. High-level talks will now begin." She kissed her hand, then put her hand to his mouth. "Good luck, darling."

"Good luck," Henry replied. He turned away, then turned back again. "I mean, thanks. I wonder which one of them has got here first." Hastily buttoning his jacket and straightening his tie, he rushed off to the front door.

Clarissa picked up the plate and dish, began to go to the hall door, but stopped when she heard Henry's voice saying heartily, "Good evening, Sir John." She hesitated briefly, then quickly went over to the bookshelves and activated the panel switch. The panel opened, and she backed into it. "Exit Clarissa mysteriously," she declaimed in a dramatic stage whisper as she disappeared into the recess, a split second before Henry ushered the Prime Minister into the drawing-room.

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