Lonesome Road (10 page)

Miss Silver turned round from admiring the view. Her hand was raised and her lips primmed in reproof.

“Oh, dear, dear, dear! That was very bad,” she said. “Very bad indeed, Miss Treherne. If I had not come in when I did—oh, dear me! You were, I am afraid, about to commit a very grave imprudence.”

Rachel had the oddest sense of guilt. Amusement contended with offence.

Miss Silver came nearer.

“Shall I tell you what you were about to say when I came into the room? You said, ‘Richard—’ and what you were going to say was, ‘I didn’t fall over the cliff—I was pushed.’ Is that not correct?”

Rachel’s eyes sparkled a little.

“Quite correct. And why shouldn’t I have said it?”

Miss Silver shook her head.

“Most, most imprudent. But there—we will say no more about it. Shall we sit down?”

When they were seated she resumed with a good deal of briskness in her voice.

“As far as it is possible, I have verified the movements of every member of this household between the hours of five and ten minutes past six yesterday evening. That covers the time you were out, does it not?”

“I left here just before five—about ten minutes to, I think. And I got up to say good-bye to Nanny at a quarter to six, but she kept me for a little while after that. It must have been about five minutes to six when I—fell.” Her voice dropped to the word.

Miss Silver nodded.

“Yes—I have a little margin. Now, if you will listen—”

She opened a shiny notebook and began to read from it in a quick, matter-of-fact voice:

“Miss Comperton:—Seen going upstairs when tea was being cleared—say 5.15. Not seen again until Ivy took her water at half past seven. She was then in her dressing-gown.

“Miss Caroline and Mr. Richard:—Went out together at five o’clock. Mr. Richard returned alone at ten minutes past six. I had just arrived myself, and I saw him come in. No one seems to know when Miss Caroline came in.”

“Have you been questioning the servants?” said Rachel in a tone of distaste.

Miss Silver shook her head.

“It was not necessary. Louisa has supplied me with those details which did not come under my own observation. It was quite easy for her to do so.”

“And you trust her?” There was a faint trace of bitterness in Rachel’s tone.

“In a matter of this kind—yes, implicitly. And she knows how to hold her tongue. Let me resume.

“Mr. Frith:—Retired to the study after tea. He had a portfolio of sketches and appeared to be sorting them when the maid called Gladys answered the bell at half past five. He gave her a letter for the post in case anyone should be going out. She said he seemed to be very busy with his paintings, and he had the wireless on. The wireless was still on when I entered the hall at nine minutes past six, and about a minute later Mr. Frith opened the study, looked out into the hall, and, seeing a stranger, drew back again.

“Mr. and Mrs. Wadlow:—Were not seen by anyone between a quarter past five when tea was cleared and half past seven when Gladys took them their hot water. Mrs. Wadlow was then in her bedroom lying down on the bed, and Mr. Wadlow was in the adjoining sitting-room. The communicating door being wide open, Gladys was able to see him as she crossed to the washstand.

“As to the members of the domestic staff, I find that from half past five until my arrival at nine minutes past six they were in the servants’ hall listening to a wireless programme from Luxembourg—with three exceptions. These were the girl Gladys, Louisa, and the chauffeur. Gladys says she went up to her room after answering the study bell at half past five. She had a pair of stockings that she wanted to darn and a letter to write. She stayed up there until she heard the car. The chauffeur was in Ledlington meeting my train.

“Louisa’s account of her own movements is as follows:— She let Noisy out for a run, and had some difficulty in getting him in again. She says he was out for a quarter of an hour. She then put on her outdoor things, lighted the stable lantern, which she tells me she prefers to a torch, and started out along the cliff to meet you. According to this it must have been quite six or seven minutes past six before she left the house. It was probably a little later, or she would have met Mr. Richard. How long would it take her to reach the place where you went over?”

“About ten minutes.”

“That would put her arrival with the lantern at about twenty-five minutes past six. Does that fit in?”

Rachel said, “I think so. Everything happened much more quickly than it seemed. It was only a quarter to seven when I got back to my room. I know I looked at the clock and couldn’t believe my eyes. Saying good-bye to Nanny seemed like hours and hours ago.”

Miss Silver nodded.

“I once met a very clever man who maintained that time did not exist. I never could understand what he said, but I knew quite well what he meant. Well now, Miss Treherne, we must be practical. From these notes you will realize that it would have been possible for any one of the following persons to have pushed you over the cliff—Mr. Wadlow, Mrs. Wadlow—”

Rachel Treherne burst out laughing.

“My dear Miss Silver, my sister Mabel would literally die of fright if she found herself alone on the cliff path after dark. And as for pushing me over, I can assure you that it was a much stronger hand that did that.”

Miss Silver smiled.

“I will agree that it does not seem probable that Mrs. Wadlow was actively concerned in the attempt. I am merely covering the time between half past five and ten minutes past six, and for that period neither Mr. nor Mrs. Wadlow has any effective alibi. That is to say, they can probably speak for each other, but no one else can speak for them. The other persons without alibis are Mr. Frith, Miss Comperton, Louisa Barnet, the girl Gladys—and lastly, Miss Caroline and Mr. Richard. It is true they left the house together, but they returned separately. I deduce a quarrel, but we have no means of knowing how long they were together before they separated, or what they did after that. Now that covers the people who were in the house, but there are some others who cannot be excluded from an inquiry. Maurice Wadlow and his sister Cherry left Whincliff Edge after breakfast yesterday morning. I should like some evidence as to their subsequent movements. It would not have been difficult for them to have returned either singly or together. From what Mrs. Wadlow has told me it would seem likely that Miss Cherry was fully occupied with her own affairs, but this requires corroboration. We have next to consider Mr. Gale Brandon, but in view of the fact that he went to considerable trouble to pull you up we may perhaps assume provisionally that he did not push you down. There remains one other person as to whose movements we have no evidence at all, and that is your old nurse’s niece, the young woman Ellen.”

Rachel could not help laughing again.

“Ellen!”

Miss Silver nodded.

“Yes, Ellen. I should like to hear a little more about her, but first there is the question of motive. You make your old nurse an allowance?”

“Yes, she has two pounds a week and the cottage.”

“And what would happen if you died?”

“She would go on getting it as long as she lived.”

“And Ellen?”

Rachel hesitated.

“Miss Silver—it’s absurd!”

Miss Silver coughed.

“Abnormal certainly. That is the way with crime. But you have not answered my question. Would Ellen Capper profit by your death?”

Rachel said with an effort,

“I have left her a hundred pounds.”

“And does she know this?”

“Nanny knows. She was worrying about Ellen’s future, so I told her.”

“Then of course Ellen knew. And knew just when you visited her aunt, and when you would be coming away.”

“Yes, but I was early yesterday evening. I usually stay till six.”

“Ten minutes—” said Miss Silver. “Well, Miss Treherne, I think Ellen must account for her movements. And that brings me to what I have to say to you. Miss Treherne, this is no longer a case for a private inquiry agent. A serious attempt has been made upon your life, and it is my duty to point out to you that you ought to call in the police.”

Rachel got up. Her face was very pale and her eyes bright.

“No, I won’t have the police brought into it,” she said.

“Miss Treherne, the attempt was a very dangerous one. If it had not been for Mr. Brandon’s presence of mind it would have been successful, and I should now be waiting here to give evidence at an inquest. I urge you to inform the police without delay.”

Rachel walked to the window and stood there.

“I won’t do it.” After a short silence she turned round. “Miss Silver, how can I? If there were nothing else, think of the talk—local at first, then spreading until it got into the papers. Haven’t you enough imagination to see the headlines? I have. Everyone- would be brought into it, everyone’s affairs ferreted out—Cherry’s flirtations— Maurice’s crazy politics—any stupidity which any of us may have tumbled into—any debt—any folly however light, however irrelevant. You know as well as I do they’d all be whipped to a froth and served up to tickle the taste for scandal. That’s what we’d get if we called in the police. And there would be worse than that, because all those other things would come out, and they would arrest Louisa— they’d have to. You must see that I can’t possibly have the police brought into this.”

“Miss Treherne—”

Rachel was no longer pale. Her cheeks flamed.

“Miss Silver, I give you fair warning—if the police are brought in, I shall deny the whole thing! I shall say that I fell. No one will be in a position to contradict me except— except the person who pushed me over, and—and—that’s not a very likely thing to happen, is it?”

Miss Silver said “No—” in a meditative tone. After a slight pause she continued briskly. “Well, I have done my duty. I would like further to urge upon you that you should immediately protect yourself by destroying your existing will and making a new one, the provisions of which you would keep to yourself. This accomplished, and an announcement made to that effect, your life would, I think, be safe, because the person who has attempted it could not be sure of having escaped suspicion, and would be unlikely to incur a fresh risk until the terms of the new will had transpired.”

“That is what you said before—in London—when I came to see you.”

“And I say it again. It is good advice.”

Rachel crossed the room. When she came to the door which led into her bedroom she leaned against it. It was as if she could not go any farther. She kept hold of the half turned handle and breathed deeply. The she said,

“I can’t take it—I can’t. I told you why. They’re my people. They’re all I’ve got. I love some of them—very much. I owe something to all of them—because we are a family. I can’t just—save myself and leave them all— under suspicion. If I took your—good advise, there would never be any love or confidence again—there couldn’t be. I don’t feel as if I could live like that. I want to live—very much. But it’s too big a price—I can’t pay it. I must know the truth. I must know whom I can trust and whom I can love. I’ll take any risk to find that out.”

She straightened up and looked blindly and piteously at Miss Silver.

“Find out,” she said.

About a quarter of an hour later Miss Silver emerged from her own room and descended the stairs. There was no one in the hall, but just as she arrived on the bottom step Gladys ran out of the study.

“Oh, miss,” she said, “you’re wanted on the telephone. It’s a London call.”

Miss Silver did not hurry. She said, “Oh, thank you,” and then, “Will you just show me—” And when they were both in the study and she found that is was empty, she said in the voice which was so exactly that of a retired governess, “The call will not keep me for more than three minutes. There is something I want to ask you about. I wonder if you would be so kind as to go to my room and wait for me there.”

The call took its allotted three minutes and no more. Miss Silver’s remarks were few and cryptic. She said, “Speaking,” and then, “You have asked them all?” And at the end, “Yes, it is what I expected. Thank you. Goodbye.” After which she hung up the receiver and went upstairs again.

She found Gladys standing by the window, a pretty, serious-looking girl with a bright color and rather a nervous manner. She turned round now, fingering her apron.

“It’s Ivy does these upstairs rooms.”

Miss Silver smiled agreeably.

“And very nicely, I am sure. But it was you that I wanted to speak to. I have Miss Treherne’s permission to ask you one or two questions. The fact is, someone played a stupid trick on her last night—a very stupid, startling trick—and I am wondering whether you can help us to find out who it was.”

“Me, miss?”

“Yes, Gladys. Just answer me quite truthfully, and no one will blame you if you did slip out with Mr. Frith’s letter.”

The bright color became a number of shades brighter.

“Oh, miss!”

Miss Silver nodded gently.

“You did, didn’t you? Frith rang the study bell at half past five and gave you a letter for the post in case anyone was going out, and I expect you thought, ‘Now why shouldn’t I go out?’ That was it, was it not?”

“There wasn’t any harm—not when he asked me.”

“And I daresay you have a friend who comes up on the chance of your being able to slip out.”

The color faded.

“I don’t know who’s been telling tales. I’m sure I’ve done no harm.”

“I am sure you have not. You see, I want you to help me. Miss Treherne would like to know who played this trick on her, and I thought if you were out you might have noticed if there was anyone about. What time was it when you went out?”

“It was half past five when Mr. Frith rang. I just went up for my coat and slipped out through the garage so as no one would see me. Not that there was any harm, but some of them—well, they tease me about Tom.”

“How long were you out?”

“The garage clock struck six as I come in.”

“Did you see anyone—meet anyone?”

“I went down to the post-box—it’s just outside the gate—and, well, Tom happened to be there, and we were talking for a bit, and then he said he was pushed for time and couldn’t come up to the house with me, so he went off on his motor-bike. He works in a garage in Ledlington.”

“Now, Gladys, where does the cliff path come in? Because that’s what I want to know about.”

“Well, the real path comes in just a bit down the road from the gate, but anyone that was coming to the house, they wouldn’t come down on to the road at all. They’d take the garden gate up by the garage and come in that way right off the cliff.”

Miss Silver said, “I see—” And then, “You haven’t told me whether you saw anyone. Did you?”

Glayds looked down and fidgeted with her apron.

“It was a lot too dark to see anyone.”

“But you met someone?”

“Not to say met.”

Miss Silver looked at her sharply.

“You did not see anyone, and you did not meet anyone. But there was someone all the same.”

“Only Miss Caroline.”

“What was she doing?”

“Coming in off the cliff.”

“Did you speak to her?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Then how do you know it was Miss Caroline?”

Gladys stood looking down at the hands that were twisting her apron.

“Come now, it was dark—you couldn’t tell one person from another. You couldn’t be sure that it was Miss Caroline. ”

Gladys’s head came up. Her eyes were wet and angry.

“Well then, I could! It was Miss Caroline all right, because I could hear her talking.”

“Talking? To whom?”

“To herself. There wasn’t no one else—only Miss Caroline. And I wouldn’t have told anyone, but she was crying and carrying on like you do when something’s upset you, and seeing I heard her as plain as what I hear you—well, it was Miss Caroline all right. But it wouldn’t be her playing any practical jokes, because for one thing she was too upset, and for another everyone knows what a lot she thinks of Miss Treherne.”

“Yes, yes,” said Miss Silver. “And now will you tell me what Miss Caroline was saying?”

Gladys stared.

“It wasn’t anything to make sense. She was all upset.”

“Well, I would like you to tell me exactly what you heard. ”

Gladys sniffed.

“When anyone’s upset like that they don’t think what they’re saying—it don’t mean anything. You could tell she didn’t hardly know what she was saying.”

“Miss Caroline may have had a fright as well as Miss Treherne. You see, Gladys, we want to get to the bottom of this. Will you tell me just what Miss Caroline said.”

Gladys sniffed again.

“She was crying something shocking. Just the other side of the garden gate she was, and she come through it a little way and stood there crying and talking to herself. And I stood still where I was because of not letting her know I was there, and the first thing I heard her say was, ‘I can’t—I can’t!’ and she was crying fit to break her heart. So then she said, ‘I can’t do it!’ and she stood a bit and went back to the gate, and she said, ‘She’s always been so good to us.’ And she said, ‘I can’t!’ and she went out through the gate again, and I come in by the garage.”

Miss Silver had a puzzled look on her face.

“And it was six o’clock when you came in?”

“No—it wasn’t any more than ten minutes to, or maybe a quarter.”

Miss Silver coughed.

“But you said the garage clock was striking six as you came in.”

“Oh, yes, it was. But it strikes fast that clock does. Barlow, he likes it that way. He says it’s as good as an alarm.”

“So you had only been out a quarter of an hour?”

“Yes, miss. And I went up to my room and did some mending till I heard the car come back.”

“Thank you, Gladys,” said Miss Silver. She crossed to the door and opened it. “I think Miss Treherne would rather you did not speak about this.”

Gladys gave a final sniff.

“I’m not one to talk,” she said.