“I have a flat in Miss Paine’s house-at least it was her house. David and I were helping her when she rang up Mrs. Moray to get your address, and when she rang up to ask you to see her. She didn’t tell us why-but you can’t help wondering-” Her voice trailed away.
Miss Silver’s needles clicked.
“You wondered whether her death had anything to do with the theft of the necklace and the murder of Mr. Hughes?”
Sally nearly swallowed the acid drop. She sat bolt upright and exclaimed,
“But it couldn’t-I mean, the necklace hadn’t been stolen then-it wasn’t until next day!”
Miss Silver turned the blue bootee.
“Miss Paine came to see me because she had seen two men meet in the Masters gallery. She saw them meet, and she saw one of them speak to the other. Owing to her proficiency in lip-reading she came into possession of evidence with regard to a crime which was being planned between these two men. She left the gallery and tried to think what she ought to do. She was very doubtful how her story would be received if she went to the police. She went back to the gallery, but the men had gone their separate ways. As you no doubt know, Mr. Moray’s portrait of Miss Paine was on exhibition in the gallery. Unfortunately, as I believe for Miss Paine, one of the two men who was looking in her direction and whose share in a compromising conversation she had been able to read noticed the portrait and identified her with it. It is, of course, the portrait purchased by Mr. Bellingdon and entitled The Listener. The caretaker at the gallery, who is inclined to be talkative, poured out the whole history of the picture and of Miss Paine, mentioning that she was stone-deaf, but that no one would ever guess it because she was so good at lip-reading. The man to whom this information was given was the prospective murderer. He must have been considerably alarmed and have tried to recall just what information Miss Paine could have acquired. He would have had no difficulty in obtaining her address from the caretaker, since Mr. Moray was residing in her house. I believe that this man, who had already planned a cold-blooded murder, did not hesitate to take steps which would prevent Miss Paine from becoming a possible danger. I think she was followed when she came to see me, and again when she left me, this time most unfortunately on foot. As you know, she met with an accident which I cannot regard as fortuitous.”
Sally said, “Oh-”
Miss Silver drew upon the ball of wool in the flowered knitting-bag.
“A cruel and cold-blooded conspiracy was entered into and carried out. Mr. Garratt, who was to have been the messenger when the necklace was fetched from the bank, was incapacitated and Arthur Hughes was sent in his place. I believe what had been counted upon was that Mr. Bellingdon himself would fetch it. I believe the theft of the necklace was intended to screen an attempt on Mr. Bellingdon’s life. But when it came to the point Arthur Hughes had to be shot because he had recognized the assailant. Yesterday there was another attempt upon Mr. Bellingdon’s life. A wheel came off his car on a notoriously dangerous hill. He was known to be taking that road, and there is very little doubt that the accident was contrived. Now the necklace has been returned. I find this an extremely alarming circumstance.”
Sally said, “Why?”
The word came out so faintly that she could hardly hear it herself, but Miss Silver answered her.
“It is someone in Mr. Bellingdon’s household who is interested in his death-someone who would profit by it. The information necessary for the planning of the first crime could only have come from an intimate member of his household. Only someone who would benefit under his will would have the necessary interest. I believe that this person has a passionate desire to possess the necklace and was in a position to stipulate that it should be returned. The consent of any other associates could very well be influenced by the fact that the necklace would be extremely dangerous to handle and would have to be broken up, when a great deal of its value would be lost. Mr. Bellingdon is about to marry again. He will be making a new will. Until that will is made he must continue to be in great danger. If you know anything-anything at all-you must not keep it back.”
The thoughts that had been clamouring in Sally’s mind fell suddenly still. There was a quietness and a clarity. She was back in the dark passage at the North Lodge and heard Moira Herne speak to a man in the room behind her. There was a man in that room. What man? She hadn’t seen him, and she hadn’t heard his voice. He had been with Moira at the lodge, and he had talked with her in the dark front room where the blinds were down. Moira had come out of the room, and she had turned on the threshold and said, “You’re sure it will come tomorrow-absolutely sure? Because I won’t go on until it does -I can tell you that.” When Moira stopped speaking there had been the murmur of a man’s voice from the room behind her-just a deep blurred murmur of a voice that might be any man’s. After that there was the bit about David, and Moira saying, “Come along, or I’ll be late,” and then her footsteps passing the threshold and going away down the flagged path to the drive. And the man’s footsteps following-
She came back to the schoolroom, and to Miss Silver knitting a baby’s bootee. The pale blue wool was a lovely colour. She felt suddenly able to tell Miss Silver what she had heard.
Chapter 32
MISS SILVER had a short interview with Inspector Abbott. It took place in the small room which they had occupied on a prevous occasion. Her message having been conveyed to him, he found her very comfortably seated on a low armless chair with her knitting in her lap. At the moment of his entrance she was counting stitches and did not immediately look up. When she did so, it was to give him a welcoming smile and to say,
“I believe there is now no need to attempt any concealment as to the reason for my presence at Merefields, since Miss Foster informs me that Mr. Wilfrid Gaunt is perfectly well aware of it.”
His colourless eyebrows rose.
“A tolerably efficient broadcaster, I should imagine.”
“He has a malicious tongue. I have no doubt that the situation here has given him an opportunity of exercising it at my expense.”
“He has certainly exercised it. At least I suppose it was not Mr. Bellingdon who informed Mrs. Herne that you were what she politely stigmatized as a police spy.”
Miss Silver pressed her lips together for a moment before saying,
“She is an exceedingly ill-bred young woman. I fear she may be something worse than that. I have been having a conversation with Miss Foster which I do not feel justified in keeping to myself. I would like to preface my account of it by telling you how reluctant Miss Foster was to tell me what she did, and how certain I am that she was both truthful and careful in what she told me. It was not until I imparted my conviction that Mr. Bellingdon’s life was actually in danger that her resistance broke down.”
“And just why did you suppose that she had anything to tell?”
Miss Silver pulled at her ball of wool, releasing two or three of the pale blue strands.
“You would not have needed to ask me that if you had been present when Mr. Bellingdon opened the parcel containing the necklace.”
He said, “Oh, yes, I was going to ask you about that. He opened it at breakfast, didn’t he? Was everybody there?”
“Yes, Frank.”
“And what did Sally Foster do to make you think that she knew something?”
“She leaned back in her chair and turned so pale that I thought she was going to faint. Mr. Moray thought so too. He got her some coffee and took her hand under the table.”
Frank Abbott laughed.
“That, my dear ma’am, has been done even when there was no risk of the girl fainting! But go on-you have me intrigued. Why did Sally swoon?”
Miss Silver told him, repeating the story as it had been told to her. When she had finished, he was interested but critical.
“Well, you know, on the face of it it’s a fairly compromising story, but not in a direction which has anything to do with the police. When girl meets boy in a dark room at an empty lodge it isn’t usually to
discuss stolen necklaces or attempts at murder. As to what Sally heard Moira say-what was it again?”
Miss Silver repeated the words with prim accuracy. “ ‘You’re sure it will come tomorrow-absolutely sure? Because I won’t go on until it does-I can tell you that.’ ”
He nodded.
“Well, there you are. What does it amount to-something, or nothing? There’s a lot of I-dotting and T-crossing to be done before you can make it mean anything at all. When the necklace turned up at breakfast next morning Sally Foster did a quick job of dotting and crossing and was very nearly shocked into a swoon. But suppose I put it to Moira Herne that she was overheard at the lodge and what about it, she’s got quite a choice of perfectly good explanations open to her. ‘You’re sure it will come tomorrow? Because I won’t go on until it does.’ Well, that could mean an engagement ring or any other fribble the lady fancied. If she’s short of money and not too particular how she picks some up it could be a cheque. Anyhow you may be sure that she’ll have something up her sleeve.”
Miss Silver knitted placidly.
“My dear Frank, I think you are overlooking a quite important point. If Mrs. Herne has a reasonable explanation to offer, it must reasonably include the identity of her companion at the lodge. If she refuses this, you would inevitably suspect that she could not rely upon him to corroborate the explanation which she offers.”
He laughed.
“If she liked to keep the boy friend anonymous she would have a perfect right to, you know. If she is carrying on an affair-well, it isn’t our business, and she won’t hesitate to say so. Come-you didn’t suppose that a bit of hearsay like this could be used as evidence!”
She continued to knit, and had now arrived at the last rows of the bootee. It passed through her mind that nature had provided pretty, idle young women with a corrective to lightness of conduct. The bearing and the rearing of a succession of infants had perhaps been overdone in the past, but the modern discovery of how to escape from it altogether did not always serve the ends of morality. It was merely a passing thought, checked by the timely recollection that Moira Herne was a widow. Or was she? St. Paul however, himself a confirmed bachelor, had recommended that the younger widows should marry and have children. A truly great and wise man. But if he had known Moira Herne, would he have considered her a suitable influence in the home? She feared not. Her answer to Frank Abbott’s question was not sensibly delayed. She had thought disapprovingly of certain modern tendencies, considered St. Paul ’s attitude towards widows, and Moira’s suitability for motherhood, while he was still speaking. When he stopped, her mind moved quickly to the point which he had raised.
“I do not believe that I had got as far as the question of evidence. I was thinking of how we could best arrive at the truth. In this connection the identity of Mrs. Herne’s companion at the lodge would seem to be important. If he was with her in that front room, it should be possible to obtain his fingerprints.”
“Oh, yes, that could be done.”
“Then Sally Foster thinks that they drove away in a car which may have been in the lane or just inside the drive. Someone may possibly have noticed it.”
His hand rose and fell on the arm of his chair.
“Dusk, and a thunderstorm going on? Not very likely, you know, but we’ll see what can be done. Well, I must be getting on, or Crisp will suspect me of dalliance.”
She said,
“One moment, Frank. I feel sure that Mr. Garratt knows something.”
“What! Did he also swoon at the breakfast table?”
Her look reproved him.
“I will not go as far as that, but he certainly received a shock. I am convinced that he has some knowledge which is causing him distress.”
“He certainly looks ill.”
“He has something on his mind. I have felt increasingly certain on this point. In fact-” She laid down her knitting and rested her hands upon it. “Frank, I am extremely uneasy.”
He was struck by the gravity of her expression.
“On what account?”
“On Mr. Bellingdon’s account. I feel I should tell you that he has determined upon a course of action which may have serious consequences.”
“Such as?”
“Another and immediate attempt upon his life.”
“You really think his life has been attempted?”
“I feel more and more sure of it as the case goes on. The return of the necklace-”
He broke in before she could complete her sentence.
“Well now, why was it returned? And if it was going to be returned, why was it taken?”
“I believe that it was taken as a blind, the real object of the crime being the death of Mr. Bellingdon who it was believed would fetch the necklace himself if Mr. Garratt could be got out of the way. He was got out of the way, but Mr. Hughes was sent instead, and as he recognized his assailant he had to be shot.”
Frank Abbott said,
“Well, you know that doesn’t agree with one of the very few bits of evidence we’ve got -Miss Paine’s account of what the murderer said to the man whom he was meeting at the Masters gallery and who in all probability was the fence who was going to get the necklace out of the country. I can’t give you his words verbatim, but they certainly did not give any hint that there was anything in the job beyond the theft of a famous and valuable bit of jewellery.”
“And would you expect there to be such a hint? As I see it, this crime was planned from within the family circle. It was to be camouflaged as an ordinary jewel robbery. The man who played the principal part was someone equally at home in the family and in criminal circles. He was-he is-a man of bold and reckless character, willing to take a high risk for a high prize. He must be in a position to ensure that he will have his share in the prize. To speak plainly, I consider that he has a hold upon some member of Mr. Bellingdon’s family and can be sure of his or her co-operation.”
Frank leaned back in his chair.
“Well, it’s a theory. Putting it on one side for the moment, what has Bellingdon done, or what is he going to do, that you think will send the balloon up?”
Miss Silver said,
“He is going to inform his household that he proposes to marry Mrs. Scott and alter his will.”
Frank whistled.
“A very sporting effort! I suppose it hadn’t your encouragement?”
Miss Silver coughed.
“I told him that in my opinion it would provoke another attempt, to which he replied that he would rather take the risk and get it over. He said that he was an impatient man and did not like to sit and wait for things to happen.”
“Oh, well, I am with him there.”
“So you see that the next few days may be critical. He has had an interview with Mrs. Herne, and I think it probable that he has informed her of his intentions both with regard to Mrs. Scott and to his will. She is not likely to keep them to herself. If Mr. Bellingdon dies before his marriage, the beneficiaries under his existing will must profit. If he makes a new will in contemplation of marriage, or if he marries Mrs. Scott, the old will ceases to be operative. The person whose interests are most likely to be affected is Mrs. Herne. The return of the necklace also points in her direction. If you take the words overheard by Sally Foster as referring to the Queen’s Necklace, it would mean a determination on her part to secure it, and a refusal to go any farther unless she did so. I have no doubt that it is left to her under Mr. Bellingdon’s present will. Now I ask you to consider the part played by the unknown man whom we have been speaking of as the murderer. He has a bold and reckless character and contacts in two widely different circles. His interests are so much identified with those of Mrs. Herne as to enable him to feel sure that he will participate in whatever she may inherit from Mr. Bellingdon. It seems to me that there can be only one person to whom these considerations would apply, and that person is Mrs. Herne’s husband.”
“My dear ma’am!”
She said,
>
“Oliver Herne was killed in a motor accident on the continent. He was a racing motorist and of a bold and reckless character. He may have taken one risk too many, or it may have suited him to disappear. According to Miss Bray he was heavily in debt. The car was burnt out. Mrs. Herne identified her husband’s cigarette-case and signet-ring. I merely advance all this as a speculation. There is, as you know, another possibility. Meanwhile I think that every precaution should be taken.”
Chapter 33
IT was not a day upon which anyone cared to look back. Visits from the police are not apt to leave a happy atmosphere behind them. Hilton went about with the air of one who has been tried almost past bearing and reported to Annabel Scott, for whom he cherished a considerable regard, that Mrs, Hilton was very much disturbed in her mind-the impression conveyed being that a severe social stigma had been placed upon them, and that they were in doubt as to how long it could be endured. The various women who came in to help opined gloomily over more than the usual number of cups of tea that once that sort of thing started in a house you never knew where it was going to end, supporting this theory with shattering tales of disaster.
Lucius Bellingdon disappeared at midday accompanied by Annabel Scott. They took her car, but not before Parker had practically gone over it with a magnifying glass.
David Moray made a first sketch for Medusa. If Moira had imagined that the sittings would provide a pleasant distraction culminating as and when she pleased in a more or less serious affair with David Moray, she was to be disappointed. He couldn’t have been more impersonal if he had been painting a house. The way in which what he was pleased to call the planes of her face were constructed, the exact angle at which she was to turn her head, were a great deal more important than the fact that she had allowed her blank stare to melt into a beckoning one-a change which usually produced most gratifying results. When she followed it up by saying in an interested drawl, “You know, I’m not at all sure that I shouldn’t like you to do me with snakes in my hair,” he told her briefly that they weren’t necessary, and that talking put him off. Even Sally Foster wouldn’t really have considered a chaperone to be necessary. The mousetrap and the cheese might be there, but David’s mind was entirely occupied by Medusa who had been a myth for three thousand years or so.
The Listening Eye Page 20
