Lonesome Road (19 page)

The inquest was over, and a verdict returned of death by misadventure, with a recommendation by the jury that the well should be permanently boarded over or furnished with a parapet. There had been terrible moments of strain, but, with so much else that was over, they were over now.

“Will you describe what happened, Miss Treherne?”

The gray-haired coroner was â friend of nearly twenty years’ standing. Thank God for that.

Rachel could hear her own voice now.

“Mr. Brandon and I found the well uncovered. I very nearly fell into it. We warned Miss Silver. Mr. Brandon and Miss Silver stayed in the scullery. I went to answer the telephone. When I came back the door was opening. Miss Ponsonby came in, and Mr. Brandon pulled her out of the way of the well. Mr. Frith followed her. He came round the well and lit a candle.”

“The room was in darkness?”

“Yes.”

“May I ask why?”

“There was a candle in the kitchen. I spoke to Mr. Frith about the danger of leaving the well uncovered.”

“Was there a quarrel?”

“No—I should not have called it a quarrel. I had had a terrible fright.”

“Was there any quarrel with Mr. Brandon?”

“No. Mr. Brandon told Mr. Frith he was accountable for leaving the well uncovered. Mr. Frith turned away and went round the well to the door. Miss Ponsonby was just outside. I think he did not expect to see her there. He was startled, and he must have forgotten about the well. He stepped back, and before Mr. Brandon could reach him he overbalanced and fell.”

“Mr. Brandon did not touch him?”

“Oh, no.”

“Did anyone touch him?”

“No.”

Gale Brandon’s evidence, on the same lines. Then:

“What did you do after Mr. Frith fell?”

“Miss Silver rang up the police. The chauffeur and I went to try and get a rope. He must have sunk at once. We did what we could.”

“I am sure of it, Mr. Brandon. Oh, there is one thing—can you account for the log of wood which was found floating in the well?”

“I think I can. It was lying near the edge of the well. It got pushed over.”

“You noticed it?”

“Yes, I noticed it.”

Miss Silver’s evidence, very precise and composed:

“Where were you when Mr. Frith fell?”

“I was just inside the larder, sir.”

“And why were you in the larder?”

“I stepped back just inside the door when Mr. Frith came in. I wished to leave him room to pass safely round the well.”

“And from first to last no one touched Mr. Frith?”

“No, sir—no one touched him.”

“He was startled at seeing Miss Ponsonby and stepped back?”

“Yes, sir.”

They had all given their evidence, and it had all been true, only no one had spoken the key-word which would have resolved death by misadventure into something darker and more dreadful. If the coroner had his thoughts, he did not speak them—at least not in that place or at that time. The jury returned their verdict and dispersed.

The talk at the Magpie went that there was something queer about the business:

“What did he want with the girl anyway, taking her off to his place in all that fog? No good, I’ll be bound.”

“Scared to death she was, for fear what they’d ask her.”

“The crowner let her down easy.”

“ ”Funny thing, all of them rolling up like that, one after the other.”

“Well, I’d nothing against Mr. Frith myself, but they do say…”

They said a lot.

The inquest was over. The verdict stood. The nine days’ wonder would pass. Life would go on.

But there was another reckoning, here in the family. A private inquest where something more than the bare truth would have to be spoken if the life that went on was to be worth living.

Richard Treherne had come to Pewitt’s Corner to find Rachel sitting on the step with Caroline unconscious in her arms. Upon that a coming and going—men with a rope, and the rope too short—the police—the whole dreadful business of plumbing the well. He had taken Rachel and Caroline back to Whincliff Edge, and had not seen Caroline again until he saw her, a sight to wring the heart, across the crowded coroner’s court.

He saw her now on the couch in Rachel’s sitting-room, where this second, intimate inquest was to take place. He stood inside the door and, seeing Caroline, saw no one else. A rage against Cosmo took him. She looked so drained of everything. But her eyes met his, and they were clear. He thought of the sky after rain, clear above the sea—only Caroline’s eyes were brown. He came forward, took her hand, kissed it, and sat down.

Rachel was there; Gale Brandon; Miss Silver in a very odd grey dress which looked as if it had been trimmed with black tape; and Louisa Barnet—Louisa stiffly apart, wearing her Sunday black and the expression which she reserved for funerals. Rachel wore black too, but bright at her breast was the oak sprig she had chosen with Gale. And he had said he wanted it for the woman whom he had loved all her life. The diamond leaves and the acorn cups gave out a frosty sparkle. The pearls had their own soft, changing sheen.

There was a silence, and then Rachel said,

“We’ve got to talk this out, and then we needn’t ever speak of it again. I have asked Louisa to be present-—she and Miss Silver know why. Miss Silver has something to tell us, and so has Caroline.”

Noisy, stretched out in front of the fire, opened one eye, rolled over, and began very delicately to wash his face in exactly the same way as a cat, except that cats, to whom the toilet is a sacred rite, sit up and give it their entire attention. Noisy licked lazily, stroked a somnolent face, and presently sank again into a dream of badgers.

The room was very quiet as Miss Silver said,

“Where would you like me to begin, Miss Treherne?”

“I leave it to you.”

Miss Silver moved her chair a little. She could now see everyone quite comfortably. Dear me, how pale they all were! All except Mr. Brandon. It was impossible to imagine Mr. Brandon looking pale. A very forcible type. He would be a great support to poor Miss Treherne. Wealth was certainly a terrible responsibility, and the cause of a great deal of crime, but if you had it you just had to make the best of it.

She cleared her throat, coughed slightly, and began to speak.

“I came down here at Miss Treherne’s request. She had furnished me with a list of her relatives and some information regarding them. But members of the same family are not always the best judges of one another’s characters. They are apt to be biased by such things as early association, custom, and personal predilection. I became aware immediately of the presence of these three factors. Of Mr. Richard Treherne and Miss Caroline Ponsonby Miss Treherne could believe no wrong. Of Mr. Maurice and Miss Cherry Wadlow she was, on the contrary, quite prepared to believe anything. Between these two extremes there were, Mr. Wadlow and Miss Comperton who irritated her but whom she found herself unable to suspect, Mrs. Wadlow whom she took for granted, and Mr. Frith for whom she had a strong cousinly affection.”

Richard said, frowning, “Is all this really necessary?”

It was Rachel who answered,

“I think so. Please go on, Miss Silver.”

Miss Silver continued.

“I arrived to find that Miss Treherne had met with a very serious accident. I was at once placed in a considerable dilemma. The circumstances were such that the police should have been called in. Miss Treherne positively refused to allow this. She even went so far as to declare that she would deny the whole thing if the police were sent for. I had therefore to do the best I could, and I may say that I have never had a more serious responsibility laid upon me. I was convinced that Miss Treherne’s life was being attempted by one of her relatives, and that this person was a very cool and daring criminal with a great deal at stake. I discovered that I was not the only person to be convinced of this. Louisa Barnet was so much convinced of it that she had for some time been risking her situation and her character in a series of foolish attempts to alarm Miss Treherne.”

Louisa sniffed. Her eyelids were red, her mouth made a straight, hard line. At the mention of her name she stared fiercely at Rachel for a moment and then looked down again at the hands which were clenched in her lap.

Miss Silver coughed slightly.

“The attempts were foolish and rather alarming, but I am convinced that her motive was concern for her mistress. Miss Treherne did become alarmed, and her alarm brought her to me. I quickly discovered Louisa’s activities. But Miss Treherne’s accident on the cliff was quite another matter. In this case I exonerated Louisa immediately. Real devotion is unmistakable, and it was plain to me that she would have died for Miss Treherne.”

This time Louisa did not look up. The rigid line of her mouth set itself more rigidly. Her clenched hands were more tightly clenched.

Miss Silver looked away.

“I turned my attention to the family circle. In all but Mr. Frith I found uneasiness, nervousness, worry. I took particular notice of Mr. Frith from the beginning. Miss Treherne remaining upstairs after her fall, I was a complete stranger to everyone present. To everyone but Mr. Frith I was a retired governess of no importance, a protégée of Miss Treherne’s, quite a negligible person. I therefore saw them all behaving in a perfectly natural way. They were polite, but they did not trouble to put on a social manner— they were just themselves. Mrs. Wadlow talked because she likes talking. Mr. Wadlow indulged an inclination to fidget. Miss Comperton endeavoured to enlist my interest pecuniarily in a scheme for slum clearance. Mr. Richard and Miss Caroline were silent because they were much occupied with their own thoughts. But Mr. Frith went out of his way to make himself agreeable, and I asked myself why he should do so. He was not the type of man who devotes an evening to the entertainment of an elderly governess. His conversation convinced me that he desired to impress me with his talent, his social position, and his devotion to Miss Treherne. I asked myself why he should be at so much pains, and it occurred to me that Mr. Frith knew who I was, and for what purpose I had been brought down to Whincliff Edge.

“As a first step in my investigation into Miss Treherne’s fall over the cliff, I had to find out where all the other members of the household had been between five o’clock and six-fifteen. The servants were out of it, with the exception of Gladys, whose story interested me very much. First of all, Mr. Frith rang for her at half past five and asked to have a letter posted should anyone be going out. Secondly, she had taken advantage of this to run down to the post herself. Now why should Mr. Frith have rung for her? Letters for the post are placed on the chest in the hall. The chauffeur had just driven into Ledlington to fetch me. If the letter was not sufficiently important for Mr. Frith to have completed it in time for Barlow to take, why did it suddenly become so important that he rang for Gladys to ensure its being posted? Or, the pillar-box being just at the bottom of the drive, why did he not walk down with the letter himself? It seemed to me that Mr. Frith had been anxious to establish the fact that not only was he in the house at half past five, but that he had no intention of going out. He would, however, have had plenty of time after ringing for Gladys to slip out through his own room and reach Mrs. Capper’s cottage before Miss Treherne emerged. Nobody else had any sort of alibi, and what looked like an attempt on Mr. Frith’s part to establish one actually aroused my suspicion.”

Gale Brandon was standing on one side of the hearth. He had been watching Miss Silver as she spoke. He laughed now in a sudden boyish manner and inquired,

“Do you always suspect the person who has an alibi?”

Miss Silver shook her head.

“Not always. But when a person has taken pains to have an alibi, it is of course a suspicious circumstance.”

“I was thinking that I hadn’t one of any kind,” said Gale—“I was right there. But I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

Miss Silver acknowledged the excuse with a slight inclination.

“To continue. At breakfast next morning Mr. Frith’s behaviour confirmed my suspicions. It was obvious that Miss Treherne’s electric torch had been tampered with. Mr. Richard had put in a fresh battery in view of her coming home by the cliff path in the dark, yet when she emerged from Mrs. Capper’s cottage the torch gave so feeble a light that she turned it off and used it only when she came to the worst bit of the road. It was, in point of fact, too feeble to disclose the identity of any person who might be following her. Now what did Mr. Frith do? He became very much concerned to prove that there was some mistake, and that the torch was all right. The mistake, if I may say so, was his, since he once more attracted my attention. He had no sooner demonstrated that the battery was in perfect working order than I was convinced that he had first changed the new battery for an old one and then replaced the new one. And that is where he made a bad mistake. It is a fatal weakness of the criminal mind not to be able to leave well alone. If he had been content to leave the run-down battery in the torch, it would have been much more possible to attribute its failure to an accident. The battery might have been defective, or Mr. Richard might have put in an old one by mistake.”

Richard Treherne lifted his frowning gaze and said abruptly,

“Or on purpose. Didn’t you consider that?”

A little prim smile met the frown.

“Certainly I did, Mr. Richard. But you would not in that case have replaced the battery.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

“I think not, Mr. Richard. In fact, the whole business of the battery would be out of keeping with your character. If you will forgive me for saying so, you have strong feelings and you show them easily. If you were to commit a crime, it would not be premeditated, nor would it occur to you to cover up your tracks afterwards. The affair of the battery is entirely out of keeping with your character as I read it.”

The dark colour came into Richard’s face.

“And you are never wrong?”

Miss Silver gave a modest cough.

“Not very often, Mr. Richard. So, you see, I was convinced that Mr. Frith was attempting his cousin’s life. He was in embarrassed circumstances, and her death would have brought him a large sum of money. Miss Treherne admits that she kept the draft of her will in a drawer, and that she is careless about her keys. I am persuaded that Mr. Frith did not neglect such an opportunity. And now, you see, I was quite sure in my own mind about Mr. Frith, but I had not one iota of evidence to support my conviction. Miss Treherne was resolved not to call in the police, and Mr. Frith felt so secure that he actually urged her to do so. Meanwhile Miss Caroline was behaving in such a suspicious manner that had the police been called in, she would certainly have been the first object of their attention.”