Poison in the Pen (The Miss Silver Mysteries Book 29)

by Patricia Wentworth

  Miss Silver gave a faint reproving cough.

  ‘I do not think that it would be advisable.’

  Miss Wayne sniffed and rubbed briskly at her nose.

  ‘We can all see what comes of shutting oneself up. One hasn’t to look any farther than next door for that! That dreadful Mr Barton and his cats – I have really often thought that I would go to the police about them. The one that he calls Abimelech is positively unsafe! Do you know, Miss Silver, the wretched creature actually growls at me! Only this afternoon—’ She broke off with an effect of suddenness and dabbed at her nose. ‘But really, Mettie Eccles would do well to be warned! Naturally, poor Colonel Repton’s death has been a terrible shock to us all.’

  Suspicion is one thing, certainty is another. For a moment Miss Silver was aware of Jason Leigh saying as they crossed the Green, ‘Someone came round from the back of the Croft in the dark, and the cat growled. Barton says there’s only person that he growls at. He wouldn’t tell me who it was.’ And now, here in Miss Wayne’s sitting-room, the information which Mr Barton had withheld was being presented to her. She said, ‘Murder is a terrible thing, Miss Wayne.’

  Renie Wayne gave a small exaggerated start.

  ‘Murder? Oh, no, it was suicide. Because his wife – surely you must have heard that his wife—’

  Miss Silver repeated the offending word.

  ‘Colonel Repton was murdered.’

  ‘Oh no—’

  Miss Silver went on firmly.

  ‘He was murdered because he had said that he knew who had written those anonymous letters. It is not possible to say whether he really knew or not, but he was overheard to say that he did. What he said was repeated, and because of it he was murdered, just as Doris Pell was murdered because she knew, and Connie Brooke because she too said that she knew.’

  The hand with the cambric handkerchief fell into Miss Wayne’s lap. She said in a fluttering voice, ‘Oh – oh – how dreadful! Are you sure?’

  Miss Silver said, ‘Yes, I am sure.’ She opened her shabby handbag and took out of it the small torn scrap of paper which she had shown to Mettie Eccles. She held it out now to Irene Wayne. ‘Would you like to know where and in what circumstances this was found?’

  The small eyes became focused upon the hand and what it held, the voice sharpened.

  ‘No – no. What is it? I haven’t the least idea—’

  Miss Silver said, ‘I think you have. I think that you have seen something very like it before. I think it was because of a scrap of paper like this that Doris Pell came to her death. I think you saw it in her hand, as you are seeing it in mine.’

  Quite suddenly, as if she were looking at a dissolving picture, Miss Silver saw before her not Irene Wayne, not in fact a human creature at all, but a ferret with small fierce eyes and a twitching nose. It was a ferret that had been muzzled and caged, and then all at once had found itself free to nose about and sniff out its prey, to lurk, and bite in secret. There was a spasm of something like terror, and then what was almost a snarl.

  ‘Who gave you that? Who gave it to you?’

  Miss Silver said, ‘It came to me, Miss Wayne.’

  The small face was distorted by fury, by fear, and then by fury again.

  ‘What do you think you are going to do with it?’

  ‘There is only one thing that I can do.’

  ‘But you won’t do it!’ said Renie Wayne in a small sharp voice. ‘You won’t do it, because I can stop you! You think yourself very clever, don’t you, coming down here and spying into things that don’t concern you! But I can be clever too! You didn’t think of that, did you, but you had better think about it now! None of these stupid people thought about it! I was just Miss Renie whom they didn’t have to bother about! Esther could be put on their committees, and Mettie Eccles, and that interfering Nora Mallett, and if it wasn’t one of them who would be chairman it would be one of the others! But nobody ever thought about asking me! I was the one who could be left out! Why, Maggie didn’t even ask me to the party the other night! I didn’t let them see that I minded – I was too clever for that! But I found a way to punish them all right!’ Her voice trailed down into a gasping whisper. ‘Long ago – oh, long ago – at Little Poynton – that’s when it began – and it was all quite easy to do. But Esther found out and she stopped me. But when she was dead I could do as I liked!’ Her tone changed on the words. There came into it an extraordinary and dreadful gaiety, a smile stretched the dry lips. She tossed the wisp of a handkerchief in the air and caught it again. ‘You don’t know how I enjoyed myself!’ she said. ‘Nobody knew! I put on a black dress, and I cried when people were there, but I laughed when I was alone! There was a woman who called me a little dried-up faggot – I heard her! Well, I knew something she had done – oh, years ago! I put it in one of the letters, and next time I saw her in church she didn’t look nearly so pleased with herself – oh dear, no! That was what was such fun, you know – sending off the letters and then watching the people to see how they looked when they had had them!’

  Miss Silver had been looking at her gravely. The balance of a mind which had been long disturbed had now, and perhaps finally, slipped. For the moment at any rate, fear of discovery with its accompaniment of disgrace and retribution were lost in the egotism and self-adulation of the criminal. She began to consider how this interview could be ended.

  Irene Wayne went on talking.

  ‘Doris Pell was a very stupid girl. When people are as stupid as that, it is amusing to try and stir them up. She didn’t like me, you know. I could tell when she was trying on that blue dress I had when I came out of mourning for Esther – she didn’t like touching me! I sent her two letters saying that everyone knew she was an immoral girl.’ She gave a small shrill twitter. ‘Well, she didn’t like that! And I suppose she thought herself very clever when she came here to fit me on and she picked up the piece of paper which had got torn off her letter. I don’t know how you got hold of it, but I suppose you think you are very clever too! You had better take care not to be too clever, because – what happened to Doris?’

  Miss Silver said gravely, ‘You pushed her off the bridge and she was drowned.’

  Irene Wayne laughed – a dreadful sound.

  ‘She hit her head against one of those big stones and she was drowned. It isn’t at all a good thing to make me angry, you know. I can punish people. I punished Connie Brooke. She was going about saying that she knew who had written the letters, so I punished her. Esther was having sleeping tablets before she died. I told the doctor that I had thrown them away, but I hadn’t – I kept them. Did you know that my back door key fitted the lock at the Croft? I found it out quite by accident, because Connie forgot her key one night when I was with her, and I said, “Oh, well, we’ll try mine,” and it fitted. So all I had to do was to let myself in by Connie’s back door whilst she was up at the party they hadn’t asked me to, and there was her cocoa, left all ready on the stove! I had crushed up my dear Esther’s tablets – there were quite a lot of them – and I stirred them in and came away. Of course I was very careful to see that they were quite dissolved. She shouldn’t have made me angry – she really shouldn’t. Colonel Repton was very foolish that way too. I punished him. I was very clever about that, you know. Sleeping tablets wouldn’t have done for him, but I remembered the stuff Esther got in for the wasps’ nest in the pear tree two years ago. She couldn’t bear wasps. She said the stuff was very strong, and any that was left must be destroyed, but I hid it away. You never know when something like that will come in useful, do you? I put some of it in a bottle mixed up with a little whisky, and I slipped it into my bag when I went up to the Work Party at the Manor. That girl Florrie tattles, you know – very wrong of her, but girls always do – so everyone in the village knew that Colonel Repton had taken to keeping a decanter of whisky in the study. It was clever of me to remember that, wasn’t it? Well, then of course I had to find an opportunity of putting my stuff into the decanter. I slipped
out of the drawing-room – I was doing white work so of course my hands had to be very clean, and I said I had a smudge on my finger. And do you know, just as I got into the hall Colonel Repton came out of the study and went into the cloakroom.’ She gave a little tittering laugh. ‘So I didn’t wash my hands after all! Do you know what I did instead? I went into the study, and there was the decanter on the writing-table. Not at all the thing – oh, not at all! I only had to take out the stopper, pop in the stuff out of my bottle, and put the stopper back again. The room positively reeked of smoke. There was a most dreadful foul old pipe lying on the table. Quite disgusting – I was very clever, wasn’t I? So now you see how foolish you would be to make me angry.’

  Miss Silver rose to her feet. She had kept her eyes upon Miss Wayne in the blue dress which Doris Pell had made, but she was not prepared for the sudden movement which took her from the sofa to the door. There was in it a suggestion, a highly unpleasant suggestion, of a springing animal. Renie Wayne stood there against the panels, a little crouched, a little as if she might spring again. Then she said, ‘I suppose you think you are going to go away and tell a lot of lies about me! But you don’t suppose I shall let you do that, do you?’

  Miss Silver said in her quiet voice, ‘You cannot stop me.’

  There was that horrid laugh again.

  ‘Can’t I? Well, we shall see! You know, you were very stupid to come here this evening, because I was in the middle of some really rather important business. You noticed the smell of gas when you came into the house—’

  Miss Silver had a moment of grave apprehension, but her voice was steady as she said, ‘Yes?’

  Miss Wayne bridled.

  ‘Oh, yes, indeed! But it wasn’t an escape from the gas stove – you were quite wrong about that. You see, that nice big cupboard where the water cistern is – we had to put it there when we had the plumbing altered – well, there is a gas-bracket there. Not incandescent, you know – just the ordinary old-fashioned burner. Well, we left it alone because it was useful in very cold weather to keep the pipes from freezing. Esther was always nervous about it – she would get up two or three times in the night when we had it on. But as I said to her, “If there was any escape, you would smell it at once, your room being next door,” so she left it alone. And now it’s being very useful indeed, because that’s where the gas is escaping. The tap is turned on and the door is shut, and there isn’t any window because it is only a cupboard.’

  Miss Silver used the strongest expression which she permitted herself. She said, ‘Dear me!’ And then, ‘You had better turn it off, or there will be an explosion.’

  The smell was, in fact, in the room with them and quite strong. As she spoke she was already at the window, drawing back the curtains and throwing the casement wide. The night air came in with a rush.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  JASON LEIGH WENT up to the Manor. As he came through the hall he saw Scilla Repton. She had put off her scarlet and green tartan and wore a dark skirt and a sweater of greyish blue. The effect was of a light that had been dimmed. Even her hair seemed to have lost some of its brightness. She half passed him, and then turned back again.

  ‘You don’t lose much time!’ she said. ‘I suppose you think you’re going to marry Valentine. And settle down here and let the dullness just soak into you until you die of boredom.’

  He laughed.

  ‘The country bores you because you don’t do any of the country things. I shan’t have time to be bored.’

  She said, ‘Oh, well –’ And then, ‘I can’t get out of it quick enough for me.’ She went towards the stairs, got as far as the first step, and turned to say over her shoulder, ‘Are you one of the charming people who think that I poisoned Roger? I didn’t, you know. Foul minds the police have, don’t they?’ She shrugged and went on up the stairs, drooping a little.

  He went along to the drawing-room, where he found Valentine. They talked about themselves. It was too soon to make plans, but they found that they were making them. Miss Maggie must go on living at the Manor. Impossible to uproot her – impossible and unkind. But she could have her own sitting-room. Once the funeral was over, Scilla wouldn’t want to linger. Coming even closer to him and speaking very low indeed, Valentine said, ‘Jason, they don’t really think – they can’t really—’

  He said, ‘I’m afraid they do.’

  She caught her breath.

  ‘You don’t mean – they’ll arrest her—’

  ‘I think they may.’

  ‘Jason, do you think – Oh, she couldn’t – not Roger!’

  He found himself saying, ‘No, somehow I don’t – I don’t quite know why. There could be quite a case against her.’

  Looking back on it afterwards, that was where a chill discomfort began to invade his mind. It was like sitting in a room with a draught – you didn’t feel it much at first, but you kept on feeling it more and more. It reached the point when he got suddenly to his feet.

  ‘Look here, I’ve got to. I’ll be back again.’

  Valentine hadn’t known him all her life without becoming inured to his being abrupt. She didn’t even say, ‘Where are you going?’ and was rewarded by having the information flung at her as he made for the door.

  ‘I’ll just pick up Miss Silver and walk home with her.’

  He ran down the drive, over the bridge from which poor Doris had fallen to her death, and out through the open gates. When he came to the path across the Green he didn’t run but he hurried. It was as he came through the small rustic gate of Willow Cottage that the curtains of Miss Wayne’s sitting-room were drawn back and the casement window thrown wide. He stepped off the path and looked into the room. Miss Silver, who had opened the window, now had her back to it. Renie Wayne stood in front of the door, her face contorted with fury and her voice shrill. The smell of gas came floating out to meet him. Miss Wayne was saying, ‘The gas is turned on in that cupboard and the door is locked. And do you know who I’ve got in there? Do you know who is going to die in there unless you shut that window and draw the curtains and put your hand on the Bible and swear solemnly that you will go away tomorrow and never breathe a word, a single word, about all the stupid, senseless lies you have been making up! It’s no use your looking at me like that, and it’s no use your thinking your can unlock the cupboard and get him out, because I’ve hidden the key, and the door is very strong – you would never get it broken down in time to save him!’

  Miss Silver took an almost imperceptible step towards the door. She said in her grave, calm voice, ‘To save whom?’

  Miss Wayne tittered.

  ‘Who, who should it be except David? Joyce brought him over to see me, and she left him here whilst she went to meet Penny Marsh at the Croft – this stupid idea about taking Connie’s place in the school, when she ought to be grateful to me for a home and doing her best to look after me and make me comfortable! I haven’t been pleased with Joyce for some time and I wanted to punish her, so I turned on the gas and locked David in. But I’ll give you the key to let him out if you’ll promise not to tell about the letters, or Connie, or anything.’

  Jason came in through the window on a flying leap. Renie Wayne screamed and went back against the door. When his hands came down upon her shoulders she fought like a cornered rat.

  Miss Silver went past them and up the narrow stair. Since Renie Wayne had been alone in the house, what reason would she have to hide the key of the door that she had locked? She hoped and prayed that it would be sticking in the keyhole.

  The smell of gas became overpowering as she came up on to the dark landing and switched on the small electric bulb which lighted it. There was a window looking towards Holly Cottage, and she set it wide, her head swimming and her breath catching in her throat. When she had taken a couple of long, deep breaths she turned round with the wind blowing past her. There on the right was the cupboard door, and the key was sticking in the lock. Up to this moment there had been no time to think. She had set hersel
f to come through the gas to the window and open the cupboard door. She had not let herself think what she might find there.

  She opened the door. It swung outwards.

  The cupboard was a deep one, and it was full of shadows. Hardly any light came in from the bulb at the end of the passage. There was a water-cistern like a black rock rising up out of the dark and there was something lying up against it, but she couldn’t see what it was. The gas made her head swim. She felt along the wall for the bracket and turned the tap. Then she went right in, holding her breath, and groped for the thing that was on the floor. Her hand touched something rough, and then the leather handles of a large old-fashioned carpetbag. She pulled upon them with what seemed to be the last of her strength, and with an unwavering determination to get the bag and its contents into the draught by the open window. The air met her and she struggled towards it with a growing sense of thankfulness. The bag was heavy, but it was not heavy enough to contain the body of David Rodney. She struggled with the straps that fastened it and sank down by the sill. The wind blew round her and her head cleared. The open mouth of the bag disclosed the body of a large tabby cat.

  Jason Leigh, taking the steps three at a time, found her trying to lift Abimelech to meet the air.

  THIRTY-NINE

  IT WAS WITH more than her usual thankfulness that Miss Silver contemplated the familiar comfort of her own sitting-room in Montague Mansions. Everything so cosy and so peaceful. So many blessings had been bestowed upon her, and she felt as if she could never be sufficiently grateful. The pieces of furniture with which she was surrounded bore mute testimony to the kindly thought of an earlier generation. The chairs had been the bequest of a great-aunt. The bookcase and two small tables had come to her from her grandparents. The silver teapot and milkjug which Hannah kept in such beautiful order had belonged to a godmother. And if the past provided food for affectionate remembrance, how full of kindness and of constantly increasing friendships was the present! She had just endeavoured to put something of this into words as she filled up Frank Abbott’s cup for the second time and handed it to him.