“Yes, Mr. Cunningham?”
He went on in the same quiet, even tone.
“The door between the houses is locked on the far side, bolted on the nearer side. It is the same on all three floors. Marian did not go out again, but in the morning when Helen Adrian’s body was discovered this raincoat was down on the terrace from which Helen was pushed or fell. There is a seat there, and it was lying on the seat. But the scarf-”
“The scarf, Mr. Cunningham?”
“The blue and yellow square, which I had put back on the same peg, was still there, but it was badly crumpled and stained with blood.”
Miss Silver coughed.
“And what deduction do you draw from that?”
He made an abrupt movement.
“It looks like an attempt to involve Marian. Her raincoat down on the terrace. It has her name inside the neckband. Her scarf, which everyone knows, messed up and put back on the peg. What else can it be? But it doesn’t tie up with Felix Brand. I can imagine him murdering Helen and swimming out to sea to drown himself afterwards. But I don’t see him taking Marian’s raincoat down to the terrace for one clue, and messing up her scarf and putting it back for another. Murder and suicide are compatible with a state of reckless passion, but not with this cold-blooded attempt to throw suspicion on somebody else. That’s the psychological difficulty. But there’s a physical one too. Those doors between the houses are kept locked on one side, bolted on the other. The outside doors and windows on the ground floor were all shut when we came in soon after seven. I am sure that the scarf and raincoat were still there when I went through the hall just before half past ten, because Marian was talking about the doors between the houses and I glanced along the passage. There was a good overhead light, and I am sure I should have noticed if her coat and scarf had not been there. Well then, how could Felix Brand have taken them? How could anyone in the other house have taken them? Or put the scarf back after it was stained?”
Miss Silver coughed.
“Very clear, very lucid,” she said. “May I ask whom you suspect?”
He said drily, “Not Marian or her sister.”
She coughed again.
“I will neither endorse nor question that.”
“Miss Silver!”
She had a faint reproving smile.
“Pray let us avoid coming to conclusions which may be premature. You have stated the facts. They may be explained in more than one way. For the moment what I want to ask you is this. Just why are you here?”
His manner had become a shade more formal.
“I want to protect Miss Brand.”
She was knitting steadily.
“You want to protect her, and you come to me. In what way do you imagine that I can help you?”
He sat up straight, one hand on the arm of his chair.
“I will tell you. I am-very uneasy. I think there is an attempt to involve Marian Brand. I think there may be a money motive behind it. She has recently come in for a considerable sum of money.”
“Oh, yes, there has been a good deal of local talk about that. The late Mr. Brand was very well known and respected, I understand. When he left his entire fortune to a niece whom nobody had ever seen, there was bound to be a good deal of comment. Mrs. Lester’s maid is a cousin of the Mrs. Bell who works at Cove House, so she was full of it. Her story is, I suppose, correct. Miss Brand was her uncle’s sole heiress?”
“Yes. He left her everything. Ina Felton has no share. He distrusted her husband, and he had confidence in Marian. It is not true to say he had never seen her. He did see her once, in circumstances which enabled him to form his own opinion of her character, and he had for some years been receiving reports about her and her sister. He felt that he could trust her, and he did not feel that he could trust Cyril Felton. But if anything were to happen to Marian, half of what he left would go to her sister, and the other half would revert to Felix Brand, his mother, and his aunt.”
Miss Silver stopped knitting for a moment. She said, “I see-” in a very thoughtful voice, and then, “Pray go on.”
He said,
“I am in a difficulty. Martin Brand didn’t trust Cyril Felton. Marian doesn’t trust him at all, and nor do I. I don’t want those two girls to be there alone with him. I can’t produce any proof, but I am thoroughly uneasy over the whole business. I want to be on the spot, I want to be in the house. I don’t want those two girls to be alone, or with Cyril. But I am not in a position to put myself forward. I am quite sure that you know how I am placed. I hope to marry Marian Brand, but we have actually met only three times. It is just one of those things-they can’t be explained, and one doesn’t want them to be gossiped over. If I were to go and stay there alone, it would certainly set up a lot of talk. I don’t want to rush anything. We are not engaged-I have no status. Cyril has gone away-he says to an audition. He’ll be back for the week-end, if not before. He hasn’t a penny except what he gets out of Marian-” He broke off and looked at her entreatingly. “Miss Silver-will you come and stay at Cove House?”
She said, “Dear me!” Derek’s stocking revolved. Her expression was mild and thoughtful.
He felt emboldened to proceed.
“It would, of course, be a professional engagement.”
She gave her slight cough.
“As a chaperone, Mr. Cunningham?”
He felt an unwonted embarrassment.
“I’ve been stupid. I’ve muddled everything up-put the cart before the horse. The fact is, I am very anxious about Marian, and a good deal concerned about the best way of dealing with the situation.”
She smiled indulgently.
“Pray do not think that you have offended me. I understand that your position is a difficult one.”
“But I want you to understand something more than that. I want you to understand that I think those two girls are in need of protection. If anything were to happen to Marian, Ina would be at the mercy of a very unreliable husband. If I must put it quite plainly, I don’t trust Cyril Felton, and I want your professional help to see that he doesn’t get away with anything.”
Miss Siver’s smile had faded. She knitted in silence for a time. Then she said,
“If I were to come into this case in my professional capacity I could give no guarantee as to what the result might be. Miss Adrian has been murdered. I cannot undertake to prove that any given person is innocent-or guilty.”
“No, no-of course not.”
“That must be quite clearly understood. I would like you to consider this in all its aspects. Suppose Mr. Felton to be implicated in this murder-I do not say that he is implicated, but I want you to consider the possibility. Miss Brand and Mrs. Felton will not think that you are doing them a service by exposing him.”
Richard Cunningham looked at her very straight and said,
“If he had anything to do with Helen Adrian’s death, then he is the person who is trying to implicate Marian. And if he has murdered Helen and is planning to get rid of Marian, how long do you suppose it would be before something happened to Ina? I’m not taking any chances, and-Marian asks you to come.”
She took her time before she said, “My niece has a friend coming to stay for a few days. I could leave her. But there is something more t0 be said. I think I must tell you something which I will ask you to keep to yourself. I shall feel obliged to communicate with the Chief Constable on the subject, but it should not, I think, go any farther except at his discretion.”
“You mean I am not to tell Marian?”
She said, “I do not know. I will ask you to be very discreet.”
He began to wonder what was coming. And then, prefaced by that slight cough, it came.
“Miss Adrian was being blackmailed. She came to see me, in town and asked me to take up the case. I did not see my way to doing so, but I gave her certain advice. She did not take it. I had no idea that she was coming down to Cove House. I came to Farne myself to be with my niece, whose little girl has been ordere
d sea air after an illness. Yesterday morning, when I was changing some books in the local library, I heard Miss Adrian’s name. It was spoken by one of the people whom she had mentioned to me as a possible blackmailer.”
“Who was it?”
“It was Mr. Felton.”
Richard Cunningham exclaimed.
“Who was he talking to?”
“To his wife. He said, ‘Helen Adrian’s here, isn’t she?’ And when Mrs. Felton asked how he knew, he said that he had made it his business to know, and that he had to see her on a professional matter. After which he talked about being very hard up, reflecting angrily on the fact that Miss Marian Brand held the purse-strings, and ending by borrowing all the money Mrs. Felton had with her. He said it would look so bad if he couldn’t pay for the lunch they were having together. There had evidently been some quarrel which he was anxious to make up, for he told Mrs. Felton she must make it all right for him to come and stay at Cove House, saying that he hadn’t the price of a bed.”
Richard Cunningham said,
“Blackmail. That’s pretty nasty. You say Helen suspected him?”
Miss Silver inclined her head.
“After I came out of the library I met her quite by accident. She was with Mr. Felix Brand, but she sent him away, and we sat in one of the shelters on the Front and talked. She was extremely frank. She told me that the person who was blackmailing her must be either Mr. Felix Brand or Mr. Felton, since no one else had any knowledge of the incidents upon which the blackmail was based. I told her Mr. Felton was in Farne, and she was very much surprised. Before we parted she told me she really was quite sure that it was Mr. Felton who was blackmailing her. She said it would not be in Mr. Brand’s line. She said she had quite made up her mind what she would do. She was going to see Mr. Felton, tell him she knew that the letters she had received were from him, and that she would give him ten pounds down. If he held out for more, she said she would threaten him with the police.”
“Did she meet him?”
“That is what we do not know. They certainly met and talked at the picnic, but she had not had any private meeting with him then. You may have noticed that I had a short stroll with her. It was at her instance that I was asked to Cove House, and I wanted to know why she had suggested the invitation. She said she wanted me to see the people there. I told her some of the things I saw, and I gave her some advice. I told her that the whole situation was dangerous, and I advised her to leave and return to town. I offered to see Mr. Felton on her behalf, telling her that I was quite sure he would not be difficult to dispose of. She replied that she would rather take him on herself, adding that she was not afraid of him or of anyone. It was obvious from this that there had been no private meeting between them, but that she meant to effect one. I think that is all I can tell you, Mr. Cunningham.”
He said, “She could have met him that night.”
The busy needles clicked.
“I think she intended to do so.”
There was a pause. Then he said,
“Why should he kill her? If he was blackmailing her he was hoping to get money out of her. I shouldn’t have thought-”
“She may have threatened to expose him. She did, in fact, intend to use that threat. All this I shall feel it my duty to communicate to the Chief Constable. Do you still wish me to come to Cove House?”
He met her eyes full and said,
“Yes, I do, Miss Silver.”
Chapter 24
Before going up to Cove House Miss Silver had some preparations to make. Richard Cunningham left her to them and went back to be firm with Marian Brand.
“She will be here by four o’clock, and whether you like it or not, my dear, I’ve brought a suitcase, and I’m staying too. I can sleep on the study sofa.”
Marian looked at him. She had much ado not to show all the relief she felt. She said gravely,
“There are two spare rooms. I will put you in the one Cyril had.”
“Isn’t he coming back?”
“Not today, or tomorrow. I don’t feel that we can look any farther ahead than that.”
When Ethel Burkett came up from the beach Miss Silver was packing a well worn suit-case. She exclaimed, and received an affectionate smile.
“So fortunate that your friend Miss Blundell should be arriving this evening. Really quite providential. It would have distressed me to feel that I was leaving you alone.”
“But, Auntie-”
“A professional call. And you will enjoy a tête-à-tête with your friend. I shall not be at any distance, and shall hope to return before Miss Blundell leaves.”
Her packing completed and lunch disposed of, she rang up the exchange and gave the Chief Constable of Ledshire’s private number. When his familiar voice came on the line she allowed no restless hurry to intrude upon the occasion.
“My dear Randal-”
“Miss Silver! Now where have you dropped from? You don’t sound like London.”
“No-I’m at Farne with my niece Ethel and her little girl. Such delightful weather. But tell me of yourselves. Rietta is well?”
“Blooming. And the boy is immense. We have begun to call him George.”
“And your dear mother?…And Isabel-and Margaret?”
He had with these two sisters once shared a schoolroom over which Miss Silver presided. Her voice could still evoke its memories. The delicate spoiled little boy whom she had taken over had outgrown these drawbacks. She would never have admitted to having any favourite among her pupils, but she had remained on terms of close affection with the March family, and during the last few years had been more than once brought into what she herself would have described as professional association with Randal. His feelings for her were those of affection, gratitude, and the deepest respect, with an occasional tinge of impatience. She had a way of cropping up in the middle of a case and disrupting it. The fact that she was so often right did not really make things any better.
As he answered her warm enquiries he could not help wondering whether her call was a purely friendly one. He would like to see her, Rietta would like to see her, and they would both like to exhibit George in the breath-taking performance of pushing himself up on to his feet, staggering three steps, and sitting down bump with a fat face wreathed in smiles. So far the natural man. But the Chief Constable could not help remembering that a rather well-known young woman had just been murdered no more than a mile from Farne. Crisp was investigating the affair. There should, of course, be no connection with Miss Silver, but if there were, he felt sorry for Crisp, who had encountered her before. A most excellent, zealous, and efficient officer-his mouth would always twist a little over the commendation.
Miss Silver’s discreet cough came to his ear. The social preliminaries were over.
“I should be glad of an opportunity of talking to you, Randal.”
He thought, “Now we’re getting down to brass tacks,” and said aloud,
“About anything special?”
“About Miss Adrian.”
“Don’t tell me you are mixed up with that affair!”
“To some extent, Randal. She approached me professionally just before I came down here at the beginning of the week. I did not see my way to undertaking the case. I met her yesterday morning in Farne. We had some further conversation. I was subsequently invited to a picnic that afternoon, I went. I was there for some hours. I met a number of people in whom you will now be interested, and I had another conversation with Miss Adrian in the course of which I advised her to leave at once and go back to town. I have today accepted an invitation to stay at Cove House with Miss Marian Brand.”
The reaction of the natural man to this was, “The devil you have!” The Chief Constable suppressed it. After no more than a moment’s pause he said,
“I think I had better see you before you go.”
Miss Silver coughed.
“Thank you, Randal. I think it would be as well. I shall be catching a bus at the station just before
four.”
He could picture her, neat, shabby, indefatigable, suit-case in one hand, handbag in the other, the flowery chintz affair with her knitting hanging from a wrist. She was probably going to be a nuisance. Crisp was certainly going to be very much annoyed. But when all was said and done, she was the one and only Miss Silver. He said in an affectionate voice,
“You can give the bus a miss. I’ll drive you out when we’ve had our talk. I’m telling Crisp to meet me there. I want to see the lay-out.”
An hour later she had told him what she had already told Richard Cunningham, with some additions.
“I do not know if you are aware that Miss Adrian was engaged to be married.”
They were in Muriel Lester’s bare, bright sitting-room, Miss Silver in the sofa corner, March in the least uncomfortable of the chairs. A narrow strip of orange linen framed the wide window without offering any suggestion that it formed part of a curtain or could contribute to screening the room at night. There was nothing on the walls except distemper, but the narrow mantelshelf supported a writhing torso. There was no clothing, there were no arms or legs, there was no head. Miss Silver regarded it with philosophic detachment, but little Josephine still said “Poor!” whenever it attracted her attention.
March shifted his chair so as not to have to look at it.
“Engaged to be married, was she?”
She was knitting briskly.
“To a Mr. Fred Mount, a well-to-do business man a good deal older than herself. He and his family hold strict views about morality. It was on this account that Miss Adrian would neither go to the police nor take my advice and tell her fiancé the whole story.”
He looked at her quizzically and said,
“And what was the whole story?”
“I do not know. She did not admit that there had been anything between her and Felix Brand, but his feeling was very obvious, and I have no doubt that she had encouraged it. Just at the end she said to me, ‘It’s no good hanging on to things when they’re over, is it?’ That was when I took that walk with her during the picnic. She had asked me for my impressions, and I gave them to her for what they were worth.”
Through The Wall Page 15
