When Miss Standing had finished her letter, she threw a wistful glance at the empty chocolate box and wandered into the drawing-room. She was not prepared to find her cousin Egbert there, and if she had been a shade less bored, she might have retreated unobserved. As it was, even Egbert was someone to talk to, and she was perhaps a little curious as to what he was doing standing in one of the drawing-room chairs and gazing fixedly at the picture farthest from the door.
He turned round when he heard her, but remained standing on the chair.
“It’s no more a Turner than I am!”
“What isn’t?”
“That picture isn’t.” He laughed rather rudely. “My uncle’s geese were all swans. He didn’t know enough to pay the prices he did. Of course he wouldn’t ask me, but I could have told him from the very beginning that that wasn’t a Turner.”
“It’s awfully ugly anyway,” said Margot.
Egbert gave a snort and jumped down from the chair.
“Ugly? Who cares whether it’s ugly or not? If it was a Turner, it would be worth thousands of pounds. But it isn’t a Turner, and it isn’t worth a thousand pence.”
“Good gracious, Egbert, what does it matter? You’ll have simply piles of money anyhow.”
“It’s not a question of money. Besides-”
“You will have pots-won’t you? I shouldn’t think you’d know what to do with it.”
Egbert looked annoyed.
“Nobody ever has too much money,” he said. “Besides there won’t be so much as you seem to think, by the time the death duties are paid and one thing and another.”
“Good gracious!” said Miss Standing again. “You’re frightfully sure you’re going to get it. Suppose I’ve just found a will, or one of those certificates Mr. Hale keeps bothering about-what would you do then?”
Something just flicked across Egbert’s face-fear, and something uglier than fear. Margot, without understanding why, felt her breath come quicker; she wanted to run out of the room and bang the door. Instead she repeated her question:
“What would you do?”
“Have you found anything?” said Egbert in a different voice; and again Margot would have liked to ran away.
“I might have found something. There was an old box that belonged to my mother.”
He came a step nearer.
“Was there? What was in it? What did you find?” Margot went back a step.
“I found some old dresses. They must have been very uncomfortable to wear.”
“What else did you find?”
“I found a desk. Wouldn’t you like to know what was in it?”
“Papers?” said Egbert.
Margot laughed. She couldn’t think why she felt frightened.
“You’re talking nonsense!” said Egbert pettishly. “I don’t believe there were any papers.”
“Perhaps there weren’t.”
“You’d have shown them to Mr. Hale fast enough.”
“Perhaps I should, and perhaps I shouldn’t.”
“Nonsense! Look here, I want to talk to you.”
“You are talking to me.”
“I want to talk to you about something special. You’re only chaffing about that desk, you know. There’s no chance of a will turning up now, and your father’s own letter makes it quite clear that it’s no use your buoying yourself up thinking you’ve got any claim on his money. But, as I said to Mr. Hale, there’s no reason for you to worry, because I’m willing to go shares.”
Margot opened her eyes very wide indeed.
“Shares!”
“Well, that’s just a way of putting it. It wouldn’t really be shares of course, but it would come to just the same thing as far as you were concerned. I mean if a girl’s got plenty of pretty frocks and some pocket-money, and a good home, and a car-I don’t say it wouldn’t run to a car-well, she doesn’t want anything more-does she?”
“She might.”
“She wouldn’t. Why should she?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean if we were married,” said Egbert.
Margot gave a little shriek:
“If who was married?”
“We. I said if we were married.”
Margot stared at him.
“Good gracious, Egbert. What a frightful idea!”
“It wouldn’t be frightful at all-it would be a very good provision for you.”
Margot giggled.
“It would be frightful!” She giggled again. “Are you proposing to me?”
“Yes, I am.” There was very little of the ardent lover about his tone.
“I’ve never been proposed to before. I didn’t know it would be like this.”
“You ought to take it seriously. It would be a very good thing for you.”
Margot retreated towards the door. Something was making her feel frightened all the time.
“No, it wouldn’t. I should hate it-I should hate it most frightfully. I’d rather marry anyone-I’d rather marry Mr. Hale or old Monsieur Declos who taught us drawing and took snuff-I would really!”
“I suppose you’re joking. You won’t have a penny if you don’t marry me-not a single penny.”
Something came with a rush into Margot’s eyes-hot, wet, smarting.
“I don’t want a penny, and I’d rather marry an organ-grinder!” she said.
This time she did run out of the room and bang the door.
CHAPTER XIV
Margot ran out of the drawing-room and down the stairs. Half way down she stopped running and began to walk quite slowly. Why on earth should she run away from Egbert? It wasn’t his house yet, though he had begun to behave as if it were.
She stopped, looked down, and saw her letter to Stephanie sticking out of the pocket of her white jumper. She thought she would go out and post it; but it wanted a stamp. There were always stamps in the study-
She stamped her letter and went to the post with it. It wasn’t very nice out; the fog was coming up again, and it was wet under foot although there had been no rain.
Margot let herself into the house with the feeling that it was pleasanter after all to be indoors. If she had only had some chocolates. But they were all gone, and though Mr. Hale had given her ten shillings “just to go on with,” she would want that for the great adventure of going out as a secretary. She would just have to amuse herself with the rather exciting story which she had left off to go and write to Stephanie. The bother was, she had left the book in the corner of the drawing-room sofa, and she had had enough of Egbert for one afternoon.
She stopped at the drawing-room door and listened. Perhaps he had gone away; there really wasn’t anything for him to stay for. She felt sure that he had gone away; but all the same she turned the handle very softly and let the door swing open an inch or two before she looked in.
Egbert was standing on a chair again, but this time it was in front of another picture. He had his back to Margot and to the sofa on which she had left her book. She opened the door a little wider. She could see the book lying there face downwards, half on the back of the sofa and half on a sprawling purple cushion; and she could see Egbert looking hard at the picture of a very fat, bulging woman with about a hundred yards of drapery slipping off her in every direction.
Margot made up her mind to risk it. The sofa was in an angle between the wall and the window; if she was quick and didn’t make noise, she could get her book without Egbert knowing anything about it. She slipped into the room, reached the sofa, and had her hand on the book, when Egbert suddenly jumped down.
For once in her life Margot moved quickly. Before Egbert had time to turn round she had ducked behind the sofa, and when he went to the bell and stood there with his finger on it, she crawled along inch by inch until she was sitting on the floor between the sofa and the wall. No one would find her now unless he leaned right over the back and looked down. The whole thing was just the outcome of a school-girl instinct to hide.
Margot sat in her corner giggling inwardly and wondering if Egbert would stay there long-it would be a bore if she had to miss her tea. She wondered why he had rung the bell. It was that stupid William’s business to answer it. Margot thought he was quite the stupidest footman they had ever had.
Someone came through the door and shut it. Margot couldn’t see anything, but she heard Egbert say, “Come here-I want to talk to you”; and then, “Where is she?”
“She went out to post a letter.”
It ought to have been William who answered the bell. But this was not William’s voice. It didn’t sound like a footman’s voice at all; it was rather bored and curt.
Egbert said, “Well, I’ve asked her, and she won’t have me. I told you she wouldn’t-I told you it wasn’t any good.”
It couldn’t be William who had answered the bell. Egbert wouldn’t tell William that he had proposed to her and that she had said “No.” Margot giggled again as she thought of what she had really said.
The man who couldn’t be William made an impatient sound.
“Of course you made a mess of it-you’d be bound to do that.”
Who on earth could it be? None of the servants would speak to Egbert like that. But he had rung the bell, and it was William’s business to answer the bell.
“I didn’t make a mess of it. I pointed out what a good thing it would be for her.”
“You made a mess of it. A girl of eighteen wants to be made love to-I suppose you never thought of that.”
“She never gave me a chance. I don’t like her, and she doesn’t like me, and there’s an end of it.”
“Is there? You know best what your orders are, and you know whether he’ll be pleased at your failure to carry them out.”
“He can’t expect me to marry the girl if she won’t have me.” Egbert’s tone was pettish in the extreme.
“He expects you to marry her or remove her. He’s not taking any risks-there’s too much at stake.”
Margot felt as if she were listening to a play. It was a frightening play; it made her feel creepy all down the back of her neck. Who was he? Why did he want Egbert to marry her? Was it Mr. Hale? What did they mean by saying that Egbert would have to marry her or remove her? It had a horrid sort of sound.
Egbert said, “He can’t make me marry her.”
And then the man who couldn’t be William said, “Oh well, that was just a concession to your family feelings. He would really prefer her out of the way for good and all.”
Margot’s hands began to feel very cold. It was getting more frightening every minute.
“He can’t make me do that either,” said Egbert Standing.
The other man laughed. The laugh didn’t make Margot feel any better.
“I think you’ll do what you’re told when you get your orders. I’m to report to-night, and I think we shall both do exactly what we’re told to do. And I think-I rather think- Miss Margot is for it.”
“Ssh!” said Egbert quickly.
The other man laughed again.
“What a rabbit you are! It’s a pity, because she’s quite a pretty girl. It seems a pity to waste her, but I agree with him that she’s better out of the way. I’ll make up the fire now I’m here. Local colour! And I won’t stop in case Daniels takes it into his pompous head to wonder what I’m doing.”
Margot heard a log fall on the fire, and then the scrunching rattle of coal. After a minute the door was opened and shut again. The man who couldn’t possibly have been William had gone away.
She had to wait another ten minutes before Egbert Standing went away too.
CHAPTER XV
It was next day that Charles Moray walked into Miss Silver’s office by appointment. The exercise-book with his name lay open before her. The pages had been written on in a small neat hand.
Miss Silver sat upright and knitted. She appeared to have finished the grey stocking he had seen last time and to have embarked on a second one, for only about three inches of dark grey ribbing depended from the steel needles. She nodded to Charles in an absent way and let him take a seat and say “Good-morning” before she opened her lips. Then she said,
“It is a great pity you did not come to me before.”
“Why, Miss Silver?”
Miss Silver heaved a gentle, depressed sigh.
“It is a pity. You would like to hear my report? I will begin with Jaffray.”
“Jaffray?”
“The man you wished me to report upon, lodging with Mrs. Brown at 5 Gladys Villas, Chiswick.”
“Yes. What have you been able to find out?”
“You shall hear.” She glanced at the exercise-book, but continued to knit. “He was until recently in the employment of Mr. Standing the millionaire, on whose family affairs you also wished for a report.”
“In his employment?”
“Yes, as valet and general factotum when he was on board his yacht.”
“Do you mean that Jaffray remained on the yacht?”
“Yes, that is what I mean. Mr. Standing liked to have someone there who knew his ways. He used to wire: ‘Coming on board such and such a time,’ and Jaffray would have everything ready for him. He could afford to pay for his fancies. I found Mrs. Brown a very pleasant, talkative person. She seemed to have a very high opinion of Jaffray, who has lodged with her on and off for the last nine years.”
“Was he with Mr. Standing on his last cruise?”
“Oh yes-he has only just got back.” Miss Silver took out a needle, looked at it for a moment, and then began another row. “Mrs. Brown seemed to think it a little strange that Jaffray was not more upset at the loss of so good an employer. She said she wondered he didn’t trouble at not having any work. And I think she was worrying about whether he would be able to go on paying his rent regularly. I have always found worried people very willing to talk. The more worried they are, the more they will tell you.”
Charles leaned forward.
“Is Jaffray really deaf? Did Mrs. Brown tell you that?”
Miss Silver pressed her lips together for a moment.
“Mrs. Brown talked a good deal about what she called Mr. Jaffray’s affliction. She said he lost his hearing in the war at the time Hill 60 was blown up. She very much deplored the disadvantage to Mr. Jaffray in his search for a new situation, and she repeated more than once that she could not understand why he did not take it more to heart.”
“Is he deaf?” said Charles. ”
“Mrs. Brown spoke as if he were.”
“But is he?”
The needles flashed and clicked. Miss Silver said, “I don’t think so, Mr. Moray.”
Charles gave a violent start.
“You don’t think he’s deaf at all!”
“No, I don’t think he’s deaf. But I’m not sure. I will report to you again. I think I can find out. Now as to the other matter on which you wished me to report. I am really extremely sorry that you did not come to me before.”
“What has happened?” Charles spoke apprehensively.
“Miss Standing has disappeared,” said Miss Silver in mournful tones.
A hideous sense of responsibility weighted Charles to the ground. He had known that the girl was threatened, and because of Margaret he had held his tongue. He turned a hard face on Miss Silver.
“How can she have disappeared?”
“I will tell you what I know. She left her house in Grange Square yesterday afternoon. She had a trunk with her, and she took a taxi to Waterloo Station. There she took another taxi and drove to No. 125 Gregson Street. She had engaged herself to go there as secretary to a man who calls himself Percy Smith. It was extremely ill-advised of her to take this step. Mr. Smith is not a man of good character. He has been mixed up in one or two very nasty scandals.”
“Go on,” said Charles, “what has happened?”
Miss Silver dropped her knitting in her lap.
“I can only tell you what happened up to a certain point. Miss Standing had dropped her own n
ame-she called herself Esther Brandon.”
“What!” said Charles. “No-go on!”
“She called herself Esther Brandon. And she arrived at 125 Gregson Street at seven o’clock yesterday evening. She was only in the house for about half an hour. She left in a great hurry and without any luggage, and no one has any idea of where she went. So far I have not been able to trace her; but I certainly hope to do so.”
Charles stared at the floor. Esther Brandon-what on earth had Margot Standing to do with Esther Brandon? Chance-coincidence-no, not by a long chalk. If Mr. Standing’s daughter had taken Esther Brandon’s name, it was because the name meant something to her. Now what did it mean?
“If you would tell me everything, it would be easier, Mr. Moray,” said Miss Silver.
He stopped looking at the floor and looked at her.
“Don’t I tell you everything?”
She shook her head.
“You are like the people who let a house and keep one room locked up. You needn’t be afraid that I shall open the door when you are not there. But it would be easier for me to serve you if you would give me the key.”
“It’s not my key, Miss Silver,” said Charles.
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