The Benevent Treasure

by Patricia Wentworth

  Something in Candida answered this. It was like the string of a musical instrument which trembles in response to a distant note. She said, ‘Yes,’ and found what so many had found, that it was easier to talk to Miss Silver than it was to hold things back. She told her about Barbara, about coming here to stay, about meeting Stephen again – ‘You know, he really did save my life once long ago.’ And so on, through the time of her visit down to the last few days.

  Miss Silver sat there and knitted. Sometimes she asked a question, but for the most part she was silent. Inspector Frank Abbott of Scotland Yard, a devoted admirer, has said of her that ‘she knows people’. He has also observed that as far as she is concerned the human race is glass-fronted – ‘She sees right through them.’ But then it is, of course, notorious that he sometimes indulges himself in an extravagant way of speaking. Certainly it was not only Candida’s words which received attention, but every change in her expression, every inflection of her voice, every variation in the manner in which certain names were pronounced were subjected to the same clear scrutiny.

  The scene outside Miss Cara’s door after the return from the Deanery party was gone over with the closest interest. Candida spoke quite steadily.

  ‘Anna says Aunt Olivia won’t ever let anyone talk about Aunt Cara being ill, but I didn’t know that. I really did think she was ill, and I was worried, and I said so. That was when she – struck me.’

  Miss Silver had not been unaware of the slight remaining traces of that blow. She said, ‘Dear me!’

  Candida went on.

  ‘She hates me, you know, but even so, I think she must be mad. She has told Inspector Rock that she struck me because I said Aunt Cara was old and would die soon anyhow. She must be mad to say a thing like that, even if she does hate me.’

  ‘Why should she hate you, my dear?’

  ‘Because of Underhill and the money. Aunt Cara told me about a dreadful thing she said when her sister Candida died -she was my grandmother, and I was called after her. She died about the same time as their father, and when the lawyer told Aunt Olivia that my grandmother’s children would have everything after Aunt Cara she said that Candida was dead and she hoped her children would die too, and then she would come into her own.’

  ‘That was a dreadful thing to say.’

  ‘Aunt Cara cried about it. You know, they looked so much alike, but they weren’t really. Aunt Cara was just a frightened little thing – she had been bullied all her life. But she was kind, and deep down inside her she wanted someone to be fond of. She was dreadfully unhappy about Alan Thompson. You know about him, don’t you?’

  Miss Silver might have said a good deal upon this point, but she contented herself with a simple, ‘Yes.’

  Candida went on telling her things – Nellie waking up with a cold hand touching her face and something that went crying through the room.

  ‘And she wouldn’t stay after that. She went in with Anna for the night, and she was off in the morning. But it was only poor Aunt Cara walking in her sleep – I’m sure about that. I asked Anna, but she wouldn’t really say. Sometimes she talks a lot – sometimes she won’t talk at all. When she won’t talk, it’s because there is something she is afraid about. She really is afraid of Aunt Olivia, you know, even after being with her all these years. The last thing she wanted was for Nellie to go, but she was afraid of telling her that the crying thing was just Aunt Cara wandering about in an unhappy dream.’

  Miss Silver’s needles moved rhythmically. She wore the dark blue crêpe-de-chine and her bog-oak brooch in the form of a rose with an Irish pearl at its heart. Her small, neat features expressed a high degree of interest. Candida no longer found it possible to think of her as a stranger. She imparted a sense of kindness, security and common sense not often to be found outside the family circle. The frankness of speech which is natural there seemed natural now. The strain which the day had brought was relaxed. It was quite easy to tell her things. She went on.

  ‘You know, I think the reason Anna was afraid was that she knew Nellie had locked her door, so if Aunt Cara had come in, it must have been by some other way. The walls in the old part of the house are very thick. I think there may be passages, and that Aunt Olivia would be very angry if anyone got to know about them. I know there is one in my room.’

  If Miss Silver was startled she did not allow it to appear.

  She went on knitting as she enquired,

  ‘And how do you know that?’

  ‘Someone came through my room in the middle of the night. I saw a crack of light where the bookcase is. There’s a door there, but I haven’t been able to find out how to open it. When I saw the light I pretended to be asleep – it was rather startling, you know – and someone came through the room and out by the door.’

  ‘Was it Miss Cara?’

  ‘I don’t know. Sometimes I think it was, and sometimes I think it couldn’t have been – because of my being so frightened. I was, you know.’

  Miss Silver coughed.

  ‘It was quite a startling occurrence.’

  Candida flushed.

  ‘It was horrid,’ she said. ‘But if it had been Aunt Cara, I don’t think I should have minded like I did. And whoever it was wasn’t sleep-walking. It had a torch.’

  Miss Silver looked a mild enquiry.

  ‘You do not say she.’

  Candida’s colour brightened.

  ‘I thought about its being Joseph, and that made me so angry that I went after it. But I was too late – whoever it was had gone.’

  Miss Silver said in a thoughtful voice,

  ‘Why should anyone who was not sleep-walking have taken the risk of passing through your room?’

  ‘I wondered if they knew just where the passage would come out. I thought if it was someone who was exploring – ’

  Miss Silver inclined her head.

  ‘Yes, it might have been that way.’

  There was a little pause before Candida spoke again.

  ‘I can’t help wondering about Aunt Cara – whether she was walking in her sleep when she fell. She might have been. You know, I don’t believe she would have been wandering about in the dark by herself if she had known what she was doing. The storm was so loud, and I think she would have been frightened. I did think she might be frightened. That is why I went along to her room.’

  ‘When was that?’

  ‘I didn’t look at the time. The wind was coming in those great noisy gusts. I thought Aunt Cara would be frightened, and I went along to her room.’

  ‘Did you go in?’

  ‘Not really. I didn’t want to wake her. I just stood there and listened. Of course the wind was too loud for me to hear anything, but I had put on the light at the end of the passage, and I thought if she was awake she would see me standing there. When I was sure that she must be asleep I shut the door and came away.’

  Miss Silver said, ‘Sure?’ on an enquiring note. Her eyes were on Candida’s face. She saw a look of trouble cross it. It led her to amplify the question.

  ‘You were sure then that Miss Cara was asleep. Are you so sure about it now? Can you even be sure that she was in her room when you stood there looking in?’

  The hand that was lying in Candida’s lap closed hard upon itself. She was back in the half-lit passage with the cold of the door-sill under her bare feet, and she was looking into a dark room with the drone of the wind in her ears. The room was perfectly dark, the curtains were closely drawn. She couldn’t see the bed, or the big mahogany wardrobe, or the washstand with its marble top. She couldn’t see anything at all. She said in a stumbling voice,

  ‘No – I’m not – sure – ’

  There was a silence. In the end Candida went on.

  ‘Miss Silver, the Inspector says she wasn’t killed by falling down the stairs.’ A shudder went over her. ‘You see, she was lying on her face, but it was the back of her head – ’ She broke off, struggling for composure. ‘If she didn’t fall on the stairs, where did she fal
l – and how? He says someone must have moved her.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘There was dust on her slippers, and a cobweb on the tassel of her dressing-gown – I saw Anna brushing it off.’

  Miss Silver spoke quickly.

  ‘She ought not to have done that.’

  ‘I don’t think she was thinking about what she did. She was crying. I think it was just that she wanted to do something for Aunt Cara. You know, when anything has happened like that, you don’t think. I didn’t myself – not till afterwards. Then, when the Inspector said she must have been moved, I remembered the cobweb and the dust – and I wondered – about the passages – whether she went into them and fell – and got hurt. You see, there are stories. Aunt Olivia told me about its being unlucky to touch the Benevent Treasure. There was James Benevent in the eighteenth century – he was going to sell some of it. They said he was thrown from his horse at his own front door. His head was dreadfully injured and he died. A long time afterwards his grandson, Guy Benevent, was going to take some of the treasure. He was found quite near the house with his head broken. They said it was footpads. I don’t know why Aunt Olivia told me all this, but she did. And when Derek and I were going through some of the old papers – we were supposed to be doing a family history – there was a rhyme:

  ‘ “Touch not nor try,

  Sell not nor buy,

  Give not nor take,

  For dear life’s sake.”

  ‘So when I saw Aunt Cara, and the dust and cobweb, I wondered whether she had been looking – for the treasure.’

  Miss Silver looked very grave indeed. She even stopped knitting for a moment.

  ‘Did you tell the Inspector?’

  ‘No, I didn’t. He didn’t ask me anything like that.’

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Miss Silver did not feel called upon to make any comment. At the moment her connection with the case might be described as tenuous. Her professional assistance had been solicited by Stephen Eversley, but more in the capacity of a chaperone for Candida Sayle than as a private enquiry agent. He was, however, understandably disturbed by Miss Olivia’s unbalanced accusation and anxious to provide Candida with what protection he could. In the circumstances, he could not himself remain at Underhill. So she was there as it were on guard, her position delicate, the scope of her activities quite undefined. So much for Stephen Eversley and Candida Sayle. There was also the fact that Mr. Puncheon had enlisted her services in connection with the disappearance of his stepson Alan Thompson. The link between the two cases was the link between Miss Cara and a young man whom she had loaded with benefits and had even planned to marry. His disappearance had broken her heart. Was it for him that she sought when she walked in the old house at night? Did she walk waking, or sleeping – by known or by unknown ways? And where in this well-kept house had she picked up dust on her slippers and a cobweb on the tassel of her dressing-gown? Miss Silver had been shown over the house. She had traversed a bewildering maze of passages, had looked into rooms used and unused. Everywhere there was neatness and order – polished floors and shining furniture – a smell of beeswax and turpentine before which any spider would have retired – not a speck of dust. What Anna had brushed away could not have come from any of these ordered places.

  This old house had its secrets – and kept them. What was it that Cara Benevent went looking for, and by what hidden ways? And what was it that she had found? Death certainly. But death by accident – or by some sudden blow in the dark? And whose hands had lifted and carried her to where she was found at the foot of the stairs?

  Miss Silver knitted steadily. As she turned the heel of Johnny Burkett’s stocking she went over the people who had been in the house that night.

  Joseph Rossi and Anna, his wife. Old trusted servants – what motive could either of them have? A legacy? Perhaps – murder has been done for such a thing before now. Forty years service in the one case, nearly twenty in the other. Strange things move beneath the surface of the years – an old resentment, a grudge growing slowly out of sight – envy, malice and all uncharitableness? People do not always love one another because they have lived for a long time in the same house. Familiarity may breed hatred.

  Derek Burdon. A pleasant, likeable young man – but pleasant, likeable young men have faced a capital charge before now. She recalled what she knew about him. He had succeeded Alan Thompson as the Miss Benevents’ protege – an easy life – almost nominal duties – money in his pocket. And then a sudden break. He had been quite frank about it himself. The Miss Benevents wanted him to marry Candida, and it didn’t suit either of them. She was engaged to Stephen Eversley, and he was engaged to Jenny Rainsford. He had become quite eager about his plans – ‘The old chap she works for wants to retire. He has got a small garage business. It’s been going downhill a bit, but it can be worked up again. I do know something about cars, and of course Jenny has the whole thing at her fingers’ ends. There’s a house too, and we were planning to take it over. Well, yesterday morning it all came out, and there was a most frightful row. Not Miss Cara – she just sat there and hated every minute of it. But Miss Olivia went right off the deep end. She does sometimes, you know, and all you can do is to get under cover and wait for her to come round again. Only this time Miss Cara fainted. Joseph came in in the middle of Miss Olivia telling me I had killed her, and of course he had to go and tell the police what she’d said, so they’ve been asking me a whole lot of questions about whether they were kicking me out, how much I stood to lose if they were, and whether I was down for anything in Miss Cara’s will.’

  Miss Silver had looked at him in a very direct manner. ‘And are you?’ she said. Derek appeared shocked. ‘I haven’t the slightest idea. I’ve never thought about it.’ That might have been true, or it might not. There were people who did not think about those things. On the other hand, there were people who thought about them a great deal, and a young man who was getting married and taking over a run-down business would certainly find a legacy very useful.

  She went on to the next name on her list – Olivia Benevent. The sister who had dominated Miss Cara since they were children. Louisa Arnold had talked about her a good deal. What Louisa said about people was not as a rule unkind, but she had had very little that was kind to say about Miss Obvia. She emerged as a ruthless and vindictive woman imposing her will upon the delicate elder sister, upon her father when he fell into ill health – in fact upon anyone who would allow himself to be dominated. ‘You know,’ Louisa had said, ‘I think that was partly why Cara was so foolish about Alan Thompson. He was someone she could talk to, if you know what I mean. He couldn’t take her part openly – he would have been afraid to do that – but from something she said to me once I think he used to back her up in private, and that it even got as far as her complaining to him about Olivia. It would be such a relief, you know. Why, sometimes she came very near doing it to me, so it shows she had got it on her mind.’

  Miss Silver went back to these words and thought about them gravely. Had there come a moment when the delicate down-trodden sister had revolted and provoked some frightful loss of control? There were some grounds for supposing that a scene of this nature might have taken place. Miss Cara’s heart had been set upon Alan Thompson, and she had lost him. Just how he had been induced or forced to disappear was a mystery that had never been cleared up. That he should have risked a paltry theft when a few more days would have put him in a position to control Miss Cara’s entire fortune was difficult to believe. He might at the eleventh hour have recoiled from the prospect of an unnatural marriage. But had he? Whatever the facts, to Miss Cara his disappearance was sheer tragedy. Now, after three years, she was threatened with a second break in the family circle. If she did not love Derek Burdon as she had loved Alan Thompson he was still very dear to her, and Olivia was driving him out. She had been so disturbed as to fall into a swoon. The last account of her state of mind that evening came from Anna, who spoke of her as very sad and crying all the time. S
he came to fetch Candida Sayle because she thought she might comfort her poor Miss Cara, but when they reached her door it was opened by Olivia Benevent. Anna’s description of the scene sprang vividly to Miss Silver’s mind. Miss Olivia in her black wrap tapping the floor with her foot and whispering fiercely, ‘She is not to be disturbed! Go back to your room and stay there!’ And then the door shut and locked in Candida’s face.

  What had happened after that? No one knew except the woman who had shut and locked the door. Alan Thompson gone, Derek Burdon going, and Candida Sayle locked out. Had there been a scene between the sisters? There might have been, and it might have ended suddenly, terribly, with some act of violence. It was true that Olivia Benevent had everything to lose by her sister’s death, but the woman who had struck her young niece in the face, and had been so far carried beyond normal control as to accuse her of murder, might have been betrayed into some dreadful passionate act. The proverb which declares anger to be a brief madness presented itself. There were still darker possibilities. She regarded them steadily.

  The last name to be considered was that of Candida Sayle.

  She gave it the same scrupulously fair attention that she had given to the others.

  Chapter Thirty

  When she had said good night to Candida, Miss Silver went on sitting by the fire for some time. As she passed in review all the circumstances of the case, one point continually presented itself. However often she attempted to relegate it to a position of very little importance, she found that it persistently forced itself upon her attention. She would be considering the question of who among the household at Underhill could have lifted and carried Miss Cara to the place where she was found, when, pushing in upon her thought, would come this apparently irrelevant point. It cost her quite an effort to dismiss it and continue her train of thought. Joseph or Anna could certainly have done the lifting. Anna was a big woman, and Joseph though not tall was wiry. Miss Cara would have been a light burden for either of them. Derek, of course, could have done it with ease. Candida could have done it. But what about Olivia Benevent? Could she, under whatever stress of fear have dragged or carried her sister any distance? Miss Silver remembered shaking hands with her at the Deanery party. The feeling of the hand that had taken hers came back clearly. There had been no particular pressure, just the touch of a small bony hand, hard and firm. There was the suggestion of a bird’s claw, dry and cold to the touch. The two sisters looked so much alike, but the touch of Miss Cara’s hand had been soft and slack, just meeting her own and falling away. It occurred to her that if Olivia Benevent chose to do a thing she would make it her business to see that it was done, whereas Miss Cara would accept the first discouragement.