[MaC] Speculation in the Lounge

[Mel Mason]

>> Only after Nicola had done so did Vangie open her own clutch purse and
>> produce a small bottle, which she handed to Richard almost 
>> absentmindedly.
>> Her sharp gaze was on the contents of the purse dumped out on the settee.
>>
>> Richard accepted it, uncapped it, and wafted it under the fallen wife's
>> nose. And while it seemed most of his attention was on her, he did seem 
>> to
>> have a spare eye for the bag as well.
>
> "Ain't that a sight," Marjorie said from over by the bar, a
> half drunk glass of gin and tonic in her hand.  Fitzroy's
> empty glass still stood on the top of the bar.  "No sooner
> does the poor woman collapse than the rest of you are going
> through her bag," she said sarcastically.  "Maybe Nola killed
> herself because someone robbed her."

Marty Fotzroy swung round at this, looking with slightly bulging eyes at 
where Esme's possession were scattered on the sette.  His rather prominent 
eyes bulged alarmingly.


The contents of Esme's handbag included a handkerchief, a purse*, a fountain
pen, a small leatherbound book, and two letters.  One bore a Bethnal Green
postmark, and one a rather more exotic postmark - it looked to be in cyrllic
script, and the picture showed a rather burly factory worker in the act of
stoking a furnace, muscles rippling.

As Richard waved the salts under her nose, Esme gave a moan and opened her
eyes.

"What ... what's happened?" she asked feebly.  "Oh... my handbag!  Give me
my handbag!"

She shot an apprehensive look at her husband, who was still waiting for
Marjorie to pour him a drink.

"You passed out," explained Richard. "We thought you might have some salts,
that it might be a... condition with you." He eased her up. "You went a
little senseless right before you went limp, actually. Talking nonsense."


"What ... wha ... " Esme quavered.

Then she moved towards the settee and the contents of her bag.

Her husband took a step towards her.  "Leave that!" he ordered.

"Have we missed much?" said a voice from the service door.  It was Oswald 
Skeffington-Nottle, with Marion Mauberley by his side.