Out of the Past

by Patricia Wentworth

  Carmona stood there with these thoughts in her mind. And then they were startled out of her, because Pippa whirled round upon her suddenly. All the deadness, the dullness, the flatness was gone. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks flamed.

  “What’s the good of our sitting here like this? We’ve got to do something! I’ve been like a rabbit caught in a headlight, just scared stiff and waiting to be run over! And if we wait long enough, I shall be! Only I’m not going to! I know exactly what we’ve got to do, and we’re going to do it at once! We’ve got to call in Miss Silver!”

  “Miss Silver?” Carmona’s blank dismay showed in her voice.

  Pippa had jumped up. She was opening a cupboard, pulling on a dress, slipping her feet into beach shoes, and talking, talking, talking all the time.

  “Yes, yes, yes-Miss Silver! Don’t you know who she is? I didn’t at first, because you’d never think it to look at her! But then I remembered that is just what Stacy said she looked like-a little old-maid governess, but frightfully, frightfully on the spot!”

  “Pippa, what are you talking about?”

  “Stacy Mainwaring,*The Brading Collection darling. At least she is really Stacy Forrest, because she married Charles all over again, but she sticks to Mainwaring for her miniatures.”

  “Pippa, I still do not know what you are talking about.”

  Pippa stopped winding a bright red scarf about her head.

  “That’s because you’re not trying,” she said. “Stacy Forrest painted a miniature of me for Bill-he simply adores it. And she told me all about Miss Silver to keep me quiet whilst I was sitting. And at first I didn’t think it was the same, and then I did, because I said something about Stacy, and she fairly beamed over her and Charles-who really is a lamb, and how Stacy ever thought she could get on without him, I don’t know, but anyhow they are madly happy now.”

  “Pippa, do come to the point! What did Stacy Forrest tell you about Miss Silver?”

  Pippa stared.

  “You haven’t been listening, and we’ve got to do something quickly. Stacy and Charles got caught up in that jewel murder-you know, the Brading Collection. It was dreadful for them, because they thought Charles had done it, and it was Miss Silver who found out he hadn’t. Stacy says she’s marvellous. And Minx Raeburn was in a most awful flap because her mother-in-law had lent her some frightfully historic jewelry and it had got stolen. Minx said she nearly died, because Lady Dalrae is the world’s grimmest Gorgon. But Miss Silver got it back for her, and the police never came into it at all.”

  Carmona assembled these disjointed facts.

  “You mean she is a detective?”

  Pippa nodded vigorously.

  “And we must get her to come here at once. That London policeman is the one who was on the Brading Case. He is the new Police College sort. Stacy says he more or less eats out of Miss Silver’s hand. I can’t think why I didn’t get hold of her straight away-I must have been asleep or something.” She was tucking in the ends of the red scarf.

  “But Pippa-what do you want to do?”

  “Get hold of Miss Silver-at once, before the police get here. You do think they’ll really come?”

  Carmona, unfortunately, had no doubts about it.

  “Colonel Anthony went off to tell them. He said it was his duty.”

  “Don’t you hate people who say that? It just means they are going to be unpleasant.” She had begun to do her face- lacquer-red lipstick-

  Carmona said,

  “Pippa, I wouldn’t.”

  “Wouldn’t what, darling?”

  Carmona indicated the lipstick.

  “I really wouldn’t-it’s too bright. And that head-scarf-I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  Pippa stared.

  “Because it’s red? Darling, you’re not suggesting I should go into mourning for Alan, are you?”

  Carmona shook her head.

  “Just not red. There’s the one you had on yesterday-that shaded blue one.”

  Pippa changed the scarf, but refused to give up the lipstick.

  “And I’ve got to hurry-because of the police! If I can get away before they come I’ll have a chance of talking to Miss Silver before they start asking all their frightful questions!”

  Carmona said,

  “Pippa, the person you ought to be talking to is Bill. Have you sent for him? Because I think you ought to.”

  “Bill? No, of course not! You don’t listen when I tell you things! He’s over in Germany giving evidence at some dreary trial! I don’t suppose I could get hold of him if I wanted to!”

  “It will be in the papers.”

  “Do they get them over there? Well, it doesn’t really matter, because it’s all about Alan and his being Penderel Field’s son, and bits about you, and Esther, and James. And as Bill doesn’t even know I’m here-”

  “Oh, Pippa-doesn’t he?”

  “No, darling. He thinks I’m staying with his Aunt Muriel- the world’s completest dreep. I rang you up instead.”

  She laid down the lipstick, used her powder-puff in an expert manner, and turned from the glass with an encouraged expression.

  “There, darling-I must fly! Keep your fingers crossed!”

  CHAPTER 24

  You wish to consult me professionally?”

  “Oh, yes, I do!”

  Miss Silver gazed thoughtfully at the girl in the flowered beach-dress with its pattern of cherry and blue and the blue head-scarf which bound the lint-white hair. Pippa Maybury was all talk, all animation. The high, rippling voice carried a flood of irrelevant chatter about Charles Forrest-about Stacy-about the only too appropriately nicknamed Minx Raeburn. This girl had much the same voice and manner.

  Girls all wore lipstick nowadays, but in the circumstances Miss Silver considered that something less noticeable would have been in better taste. After all, Alan Field had been stabbed to death at very close quarters to Cliff Edge, and poor Mrs. Field was actually staying in the house. Something more subdued both in dress and in make-up would have shown consideration for her feelings. She checked herself. These were outmoded standards. People no longer thought about such things, and perhaps it was all to the good. Mourning and its observances had certainly been carried to exaggerated lengths under the shadow of Queen Victoria ’s widowhood. One could no longer judge by appearances: One must look below the surface.

  With this in mind, Miss Silver continued to gaze. Beneath vanishing-cream and powder she was able to detect unmistakable marks of strain. But she looked deeper than this. The bright talk was too bright, the light laugh too rippling, the whole performance too taut, the tempo just a shade too quick. She was reminded of a gramophone record put on at an exaggerated rate of speed. She said, herself speaking a little more slowly than usual,

  “You wish to consult me. Will you tell me why?”

  Pippa bit her lip. She had thought about going to Miss Silver and asking for her help, but she hadn’t thought about what she was going to say when she got there. All that seemed to matter was that she should get out of the house and reach Miss Silver before the police arrived to stop her. Well, she had got out of the house and reached Miss Silver.

  They sat facing each other in the pleasant bedroom, part of what had once been Mrs. Anning’s big spare room, and she didn’t know what to say. Miss Silver sat in the chintz-covered chair by the window, and Pippa on what had been a music-stool but now served the dressing-table. As the girl stared at her blankly, Miss Silver picked up the ball of pink wool into which her needles had been thrust and began to knit.

  Perhaps it was the homely action, perhaps it was the kind yet searching look which accompanied it that prompted Pippa to a childish gesture and to a childish speech. She put out her hands in what was an oddly natural way and said in a trembling voice,

  “I’m so frightened-”

  Miss Silver continued to look at her. She also continued to knit.

  “Will you tell me why?”

  “The police-Carmona said
they would come-”

  “The police were coming to question you-was that what you were afraid of?”

  “Because of the blood on the stairs. It must have dripped off my dress that night. You see, I knelt in it and all the front was soaked.” A quick shudder went over her. She said, “Mrs. Rogers was doing the stairs. Nobody knew it was there-but her cloth was stained and she screamed. Everyone came out of their rooms, and I said it was blood and it must have come off my dress because of its being soaked. At least I think that was what I said-I don’t really know, and I don’t know why I said it. But Carmona said the police would come. Colonel Anthony was there, and he heard me-everyone heard me- and Carmona said Colonel Anthony would go to the police.”

  When she stopped Miss Silver said in her gravest voice,

  “Mrs. Maybury, do you really wish to tell me all this? I think you should realize that you are making admissions of a very compromising nature, and that there might be circumstances in which I would not feel justified in keeping them to myself.”

  Pippa’s eyes widened.

  “What-what circumstances?”

  “If someone else were accused-”

  She was interrupted with vehemence.

  “But that is just what I want you to do! Minx said you were so marvellous! I want you to find out who did it! Because somebody must have done it-mustn’t they? And if you find out who it was, everything will be all right, and-Bill needn’t know!” The last words came out with an anguished gasp.

  Miss Silver contemplated her with new attention.

  “Your husband?”

  “Oh, yes!”

  “There is something you do not wish him to find out?”

  Pippa gazed imploringly. Two large round tears rolled slowly down her cheeks.

  “You see-he thinks-I’m good.”

  Miss Silver laid down her knitting for a moment.

  “Before we go any further, Mrs. Maybury, will you listen very carefully to what I am going to say? There is something you are anxious to hide-something that you hope your husband need not know. I do not ask you what it is. It might very easily be something that I do not wish to know. If it concerns the death of Alan Field, I think that you should see a solicitor without delay. You have made a very serious admission in the presence of a number of witnesses, and it will not be possible to hush it up.”

  Pippa looked startled.

  “But it hasn’t got anything to do with Alan, except that he was being a beast about it. I wouldn’t ever have gone to meet him if he hadn’t said he would tell Bill. I would have done anything in the world to stop him doing that. Because, you see, Bill is good, and he thinks I am, and if he found out I wasn’t it would do something to him, and nothing would ever be the same again. So what did my pearls matter, or anything!”

  From these obscure and fragmentary remarks Miss Silver began to perceive the emergence of a pattern. As if her admission that she had been on the scene of the murder was not enough, Mrs. Maybury appeared to be bent upon supplying herself with a motive.

  “Mr. Field was blackmailing you?”

  “Oh, yes!”

  Miss Silver was knitting again, but her eyes never left Pippa’s face.

  “That would give you a motive for the murder.”

  Pippa said, “Oh!” Her mouth remained a little open red circle, but under the lipstick all the natural colour had drained away. She leaned forward with a jerk. It was like seeing a marionette move.

  “But you don’t think I did it? I wouldn’t have come to you if I had! You can’t possibly think-why, he was dead when I got there! That was what was so horrid. It was all dark, and I didn’t want to use my torch, because of anyone seeing me. I could just make out the beach hut-the door was open. I stumbled over something-and came down. It was Alan-he was dead. There was such a lot of blood. My dress was all wet-and my hands. That’s how the stain came on the stairs. It was a long dress, and it was all wet.”

  Miss Silver said in her quiet voice,

  “What did you do after that?”

  Pippa told her.

  “Carmona helped me. She came out of her room and saw me coming up the stairs. I told her about finding Alan, and we burned my dress in the kitchen fire.”

  “That was a very foolish and a very wrong thing to do.”

  “Carmona said we ought to call the police, but I told her I would rather kill myself. Because of Bill. You do see that, don’t you? I was meeting Alan in that beach hut in the middle of the night, and they were either going to think he was my lover, or I should have to tell them he was blackmailing me about someone else, and I should have to give evidence, and Bill would know. I simply couldn’t let her call the police.”

  Miss Silver shook her head.

  “You should have done so. A prolonged course of deception is extremely difficult to sustain. You were ill-advised to embark upon it. We have now to consider what is best for you to do. If you wish me to be of any assistance to you, you must make up your mind to be perfectly frank.”

  “You are going to help me?”

  Miss Silver coughed.

  “I will do my best to discover the truth. I cannot go into any case with the intention of helping this or that person. I can have but one motive, the bringing of the truth to light. If you are sure that that will help you, I shall be willing to take the case.”

  Pippa stared.

  “But that is just what I want you to do! Somebody killed Alan, and if you can find out who it was, the police won’t bother about me any more-will they?”

  Miss Silver made no reply to this. She began, instead, to ask a great many questions, to all of which Pippa replied in a perfectly open and natural manner. She hadn’t met anyone on her way to the beach hut or on her way back-not to say meet. But just when she got to the top of the path she had had a kind of frightening feeling. No, she didn’t know what she meant by that-it was just a feeling. She had come running up the steep path and she was trying to get her breath. She wouldn’t have heard if there was anyone there. All she wanted was to get back into the house-and all the more when she had that horrid feeling that there might be someone looking at her and listening.

  Miss Silver put that away to think about. She said,

  “Mrs. Maybury-you say when you put your torch on in the hut you saw that Alan Field had been stabbed.”

  “Oh, yes, I did.”

  “Will you tell me just how he was lying?”

  Pippa shuddered.

  “On his face-one arm flung out.”

  “How did you know who it was?”

  “His hair. The light shone on it.”

  “And what made you sure he had been stabbed?”

  “The knife-it was sticking in his back.”

  “Did you touch it?”

  “Oh, no!”

  “You are quite sure about that?”

  “Oh, no-I wouldn’t!”

  Miss Silver said gravely,

  “No weapon was found by the police. Are you really quite sure that you saw a knife, and that you did not touch it or take it away?”

  “But of course I’m sure! I keep telling you so! The knife was there, sticking up under his shoulder, and I wouldn’t have touched it for anything-anything in the world!”

  After a slight pause Miss Silver said,

  “If you saw this knife you can describe it. What was it like?”

  Pippa had no hesitation.

  “It was Mrs. Field’s paper-knife. Her husband gave it to her, and she was very fond of it-one of those sort of dagger things with a lot of gilt on the handle and some little coloured stones. It was quite sharp. She had it down on the beach that day, because she was by way of reading one of old Mr. Hardwick’s books-sort of memoirs-and he couldn’t have really bothered to read it himself, because the leaves had never been cut.”

  “Mrs. Maybury, will you think very carefully. Where was that dagger kept?”

  Pippa didn’t need any time to think at all.

  “Whenever I saw it, it was sticking in the
book. Esther just took it out to show it to me, and then she stuck it back again.”

  “What was the title of the book?”

  This did appear to call for consideration.

  “Well, I don’t know-Pages From the Lives of Great Victorians, or something like that-too dreary.”

  “And was it brought up to the house on Wednesday night?”

  Pippa’s lips parted on a sharp breath.

  “Oh-no-it wasn’t-”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “Because I saw it-down there-when I put on my torch. I saw Alan-and the blood-and the knife in his back. And the book-was lying there-on the floor-close to his hand-as if he had pulled it down.”

  CHAPTER 25

  In the morning-room at Cliff Edge, so restful, so delightfully cool, Miss Silver sat knitting. She had chosen one of those low armless chairs produced by the Victorian age in which needlework was considered a woman’s most necessary accomplishment. Miss Silver’s own needles were of a composition then undreamed of, but she found the same comfort as the ladies of that generation in the low seat, the dumpy back, and the absence of restraining arms. She had a chair of this type in her own flat, the legacy of an aunt, and she valued it highly. The heat outside was at its most extreme, but in this north room the temperature was really very pleasant, very pleasant indeed.

  She was not alone. For the time being at any rate, police interviews with members of the household were over. Inspector Colt had departed. But Inspector Abbott stood with his back to the carved overmantel and addressed himself to his “revered preceptress.”

  “You are actually staying in the house?”

  “Mrs. Hardwick has most kindly invited me to do so.”