The Judas Kiss (16 page)

"What was that?"

"I did not see it but I was told about it. A good many of those present adjourned to the Crompton Arms and started discussing all they had heard. Someone said it was lucky for the family that Adelaide passed away so quickly. Victor Gore-Black was there and someone else said if it was lucky for the family it might be lucky for him, too. 'What do you mean by that?' our Victor demanded. 'You know best,' the other man sneered. Victor called him a dirty swine and they might have come to blows, but the barman intervened."

"Who was the other man?" Roger asked.

"The fellow who told me about it said he was a rival journalist, named Inglis or Ingram. But you see how foul it is for us, people already talking like that. I still believe Adelaide did it herself, though I cannot tell why. Perhaps she took something wrong by mistake."

"It is horrible," Ruth said again. "I do hope they will soon get at the truth."

"You cannot hope it more than we do," Jasper assured her.

Pearl had not attended the inquest. The whole affair distressed and frightened her, yet she was to have in a way a more exciting day, and night, than anyone else. She spent most of her time indoors, wondering what was happening in the Court and wondering too why they had heard nothing from Garnet. Later on, followed by the faithful Sandy, she went for a walk and she met both her lovers.

The first to greet her was Arthur Dixon. He was looking as handsome as ever and as determined.

"I was hoping to see you, Pearl darling," he said.

"You were not at the inquest?"

"Much better out of it. It did not really get very far, but Jasper blurted out something that astounded everyone. He had to. He said Adelaide and your father were never really married. She had left her husband to be with him. You knew that?"

Pearl nodded.

"Then think, my beloved, how it helps us. People do these things in these days. Your father did; why should not we? It is love that matters, nothing else. I doubt if anyone was ever loved more than I love you. You are unhappy here. I know you are. Come with me and I will make you happy. We will forget all this and be just everything to each other."

He spoke persuasively, passionately, almost commandingly. A weaker girl might have yielded. He stretched out his arms to her. Sandy barked and he dropped them.

"But Esme, " Pearl murmured.

"I have written to Esme. The letter is in my pocket now. I only wait your word to post it. I have told her how things are with us and have asked her to do all that is necessary to enable us to get married as soon as possible."

"Don't post it. You must not. I cannot think properly, I cannot decide anything, until all this trouble is cleared up. It is worse than you know."

"If you loved me as I love you, "

"Perhaps I don't."

"You do, you know you do!" he whispered tensely. "Let me come home with you and talk it over. I will show you the letter."

"No." She knew if she yielded she might be unable to resist him.

"Yes."

She drew back, but he seized her arm . . . and Sandy bit his leg.

"Down, Sandy, down!" she cried. "Come away!" With that she escaped. It was not much of a bite, only a torn trouser, but it served.

It was quite different when she met Peter Skelton. He had been at the inquest because it concerned so many of his friends. She had returned from her walk and was at the garden gate when he saw her.

"I was looking for you, Pearl," he said very seriously. "I want you to forget what I told you about the house and practice in Torbury."

"Has it fallen through?" she asked.

"No. It is all settled and I start there in three weeks' time. You know I was hoping you would be there with me."

"And now you don't? You, you heard about Daddy and Adelaide?"

"It is not that in the very least. We are ourselves and what other people did, or did not, cannot matter to us. But it would not be fair to you. I had a talk with Mr. Watson. He is Dad's solicitor as well as yours. He told me of the very considerable fortune that will now come to you. A doctor's wife has a pretty hard time. In addition to running the home, she is continually wanted on the telephone or by patients calling out of hours. She helps with the accounts and with the endless forms that have to be filled up. I know what my mother has had to do. I thought in a way you would do the same, but I see now how selfish I was. You are worthy of something so much better and are in a position to get it. I cannot put it properly but I hope you understand what I mean."

"You do not love me, " Pearl began.

"Don't say that," he cried. "I shall never love anyone else."

"How can you tell? I was going to say you do not love me and I was not sure if I loved you. Work does not frighten me but it would only be possible with love on both sides. I am not sure, oh, of so many things. It is all so muddled. Perhaps it is for the best that you see you can get on without me."

"I see I must. It is not what I want but what is fair to you."

She was silent for some moments. Then she said: "Thank you, Peter. I think I understand. But you may find someone far better than me."

She entered the house and he turned away. Sandy had made no demonstration. He liked the young doctor.

She had dinner with Emerald and Jasper. They had a good deal to say about the inquest but she was very silent.

"You rather enjoyed your bit about Adelaide," Emerald remarked to her brother.

"Enjoyed? Not in the least. I had to swear to her identity and how could I say she was Adelaide Michelmore when I knew she was nothing of the sort?"

"I thought you relished the sensation it caused. I wonder what happened to Bidaut after he left here."

"So do I. I had told him our father was dead, but I did not tell him I was related or where we lived. Having tracked her down, why did he disappear?"

"He may turn up again," Emerald suggested.

"Not unless the police catch him. If it were not that the death is attributed to cyanide, which is so rapid in its action, I should say he was responsible for it. There are poisons which are slow. I wonder if the doctors could have made a mistake."

"Not a hope. Why did he follow her? Did he want her back or was he out for revenge?"

"Difficult to say. He called her some pretty strong names but he was still carrying her photograph. He knew nothing of the will that left her so well off and may have thought she would be glad to crawl back. She was an asset in his business. What do you say, Pearl? You saw him."

"And you were very silent about it," Emerald added.

Pearl had not been listening very attentively. She had much else on her mind. "I, I hardly spoke to him," she said. "I handed him over to Nan. I have no idea why he came."

"It leaves us all very much in the air," Jasper muttered. "If it is not cleared up we shall never be rid of the stink. People are already talking. Even if it is cleared up, we shall always be the family where the parent played such a trick and fooled us. In my opinion we shall have to sell the place and clear out. I wonder what Garnet wants to do."

"Like him to hide when there is trouble around," Emerald commented.

"That is not fair," Pearl said warmly. "Garnie is no coward. You have never known him not face things, even when they are unpleasant."

"Then where is he now?" her sister retorted.

"He might prefer to live at Torbury," Jasper said. "Better for his work. I know I want to go abroad. You mean to marry Victor, I suppose, Emerald, though I cannot imagine why. What about you, Pearl?"

"I, " she hesitated. "I may go away too."

It was then that the constable called and asked if Garnet had returned. They had to say he had not.

"Let us know when he does," was the stolid reply.

"Not much facing the music about that," Emerald said spitefully when he had gone.

They talked of their brother for some time and then came the telephone enquiry from Torbury asking for him. Jasper decided to go next door to consult the Bennions and the girls went to their own quarters.

PEARL hardly knew how she got through the evening. She was restless and upset. For a considerable time she stood by the window, hoping she would see Garnet return. Not for one moment did she believe that he had in any way been concerned in Adelaide's death, yet she could think of no explanation for his disappearance. But perhaps it was absurd to be apprehensive. Two days, after all, is not a long time. He was bound to be back soon.

Her own affairs also worried her. Was Arthur Dixon right? Her father had not married Adelaide, would that excuse her going away unmarried with him? If her father and her own mother had not married, Arthur did not know that, but it would not be wronging him, did it show that love was all that really mattered? Life with him would be thrilling. Would they be able to forget the past? Would she forget Esme? She had not known her well, but Esme had always been pleasant to her. Arthur must have loved her once.

She thought how it had all begun. She had admired Arthur the first time she saw him. His good looks and his easy manner appealed to her, but she did not suppose he even noticed her. She admired Esme, too. Then when she heard Esme had gone, she told him how sorry she was, she was sure she would soon return. He thanked her and said her sympathy was a great help.

After that they met often. One day he kissed her and told her she meant more to him than Esme had ever done. She was rather frightened, but his love-making grew more ardent. He kissed her whenever they met and whispered that she must go away with him. She said it was impossible and tried to avoid him. Or did she really try. ..?

Her mind turned to Peter, poor dear reliable Peter. Never had she been nearer loving him than she was that afternoon. Not fair to her, he had said. How little he knew! It would not be fair to him. The work did not matter. She might enjoy doing something real. The money did not matter: it would make life easier. But the stink, as Jasper had called it, that did matter. Should a young doctor have a wife whose family history would not bear enquiry?

It grew dark. She took Sandy for a walk in the garden, then she came in and drew the curtain across the window. She did not immediately go to bed. She sat for a time and listened, still hoping to hear Garnet's returning footsteps.

Then she heard something. A tap on the window. Sandy growled. Could it be Garnie at last? She jumped up and pulled aside the curtain.

It was not Garnie. She saw a strange face pressed close to the glass.

"Let me in," a voice said. "I have something for you."

She could hear clearly for the casement was not quite closed at the top. She hesitated. Then the man took some thing from his pocket and held it close to the window. It glittered and sparkled as it caught the light from the room.

She recognised it in a moment. It was her mother's diamond star. And then she recognised the man. He was Gaston Bidaut, Adelaide's husband. He had shaved off his beard.

"I want to tell you about it," he said.

Sandy was out of his basket barking. She picked him up to quieten him. Should she let the man in? He could hardly mean her harm. She had Sandy and close at hand was the bell that would summon help. She was no coward. She nodded and moved to the door. Then she opened the outer door and he slipped in. He went straight to the table and put the star and the ear-rings on it.

"She gave them to me," he said.

"Tell me." She spoke for the first time and no vestige of fear remained.

"You are Pearl, the one she liked. I saw you at your window the day I came here."

She nodded and with a wave of the hand invited him to sit down. She sat too, Sandy in her arms. What ought she to do? These were the gems they were looking for; this was the man they wanted to question.

"I know they are seeking me," he said, as though reading her thoughts. "I heard the wireless. They think I might help them, but I can't. And if they found those diamonds on me it would be proof I killed her. I know the police, just laying a trap." With his beard he seemed to have shed his French mannerisms. A help no doubt if he was in hiding.

"Why did you come to her?" she asked.

"She was my wife. I wanted her. That Jasper tried to trick me, but my friend the picture dealer gave me his address. I found her and asked her to come back. She refused. She said she had money and she preferred to be alone. I said I would open a shop in Paris and she should have everything she wanted. Still she refused. We argued, but it was no use. Then, as I was going, she put the diamonds in my hands. 'Take these,' she said, 'they have brought me bad luck. They will pay you for what you lost on me.' I did not want them, but she insisted. Now they would bring me bad luck."

Pearl was silent for some moments. Then she said, "Why not take them to the police and tell them what you have told me?"

He gave a short, bitter laugh. "Mon Dieu! would they believe me?"

"But they will catch you."

"If they can! I have friends. And anyway the diamonds are not on me. I have returned them."

"I must take them to the police."