“Well, people’s noses are always bleeding. You are supposed to put a large key down their back.”
Emma was rather perplexed at her grandmother making such a commotion about such an ordinary happening. Perhaps she was annoyed about the numbers of the whist drive being upset.
Grandmother Willoweed took a sip of port, and looked with her lizard-like eyes over her glass.
“Well, my dear, a key wouldn’t have been much use in this case; this was a peculiar kind of nosebleed. It went on and on until the bed became filled with blood — at least that is what I heard — it went on and on and the mattress was soaked and the floor became crimson. It went on and on until Mrs. Hatt died.”
She took another sip of port.
“Yes, Mrs. Hatt is dead now.”
She looked hopefully at Emma to see if she was sufficiently shocked and surprised.