Snare of Serpents

by Виктория Холт

  Ninian’s comment was: “Gang warfare. This sort of thing has been going on in some places for years. It’s not what one would expect in Edinburgh. But it is an indication that it can happen anywhere. Let’s hope that will be the end of it … here at least.”

  ZILLAH CONTINUED TO IMPROVE. She was quite lighthearted. I was seeing more of her, for she so enjoyed having Stephen with her.

  I vividly remember one conversation I had with her at that time. Stephen was playing in a corner and we were both watching him.

  Zillah said suddenly: “He’s the most adorable child. I never thought I should want children. But, do you know, when I see him I think of what I have missed.”

  “Perhaps you’ll marry again.”

  She smiled at me ironically. “It’s a bit late in the day to think about that.”

  “One never knows. You are so much better. You could be cured. You’re not old and you are very beautiful.”

  She laughed quite lightheartedly.

  Then I said: “I worry about Stephen sometimes.”

  “Worry? There’s nothing wrong with him, is there?”

  “Oh no. He’s in perfect health. I just think that someone might say something.”

  “Say what?”

  “Someone might remember. It might come out that his mother stood trial for murder … and what the verdict was.”

  “That’s all over and done with.”

  “Not as far as I am concerned, Zillah. It will always be there. How would one feel to learn that one’s mother might have been a murderess?”

  “Stephen would never think that.”

  “How could he help it? The question is there and always will be.”

  “It’s a morbid thought.”

  “But it is the truth, Zillah.”

  “People are going to forget … by the time he grows up.”

  “There could be some to remember. Not long ago someone referred to Madeleine Smith, and that happened fifty years ago.”

  “It was a very famous case.”

  “Mine was very well-known.”

  “You must stop worrying about it. Stephen is going to be all right.”

  She spoke with conviction, but I could see that my words had made her very thoughtful. She knew that what I had said was true.

  I told her the truth about Roger Lestrange then; how, through Kitty, he had discovered who I was; how he had the newspaper cuttings of my trial; how he was going to use me, if need be, to indicate that I was an unconvicted murderess who might be ready to try the same methods again.

  She was deeply shocked. “It’s hard to believe …” she whispered.

  “Nevertheless it’s true. Now you see what I mean? It will be there as long as I live.”

  She was silent for a few moments, staring blankly before her. Then she reached for my hand and pressed it firmly.

  She said slowly: “You must stop worrying about it. You’re going to be all right. Stephen is going to be all right.”

  I CALLED ON ZILLAH and, to my surprise, Mrs. Kirkwell said she had gone out.

  Mrs. Kirkwell’s lips were pursed disapprovingly.

  “She’s not fit,” she went on. “I told her so. ‘You must be mad to think of going out, Mrs. Glentyre,’ I said. She was well wrapped up, but she looked far from well … and she’s so thin. You notice it in her outdoor clothes.”

  “Why should she go out? She hasn’t been out for some weeks, has she?”

  “Only when she gets this letter. That’s the only time she goes out.”

  “She had a letter then?”

  “Yes. It comes now and then. And then she always insists on going out.”

  “I hope she’ll be all right. Of course, she’s seemed better these last days.”

  “That’s true. But I’m worried about her. I wished you’d come earlier, Mrs. Grainger, then you might have gone with her.”

  “You’ve no idea where she’s gone?”

  “Well, as a matter of fact I have. I happened to hear her give orders to the cabby. That’s another thing. I said, ‘Why shouldn’t Baines take you?’ and she said she wouldn’t bother him. And there he is, hardly ever taking the carriage out.”

  “That’s strange. Perhaps she wasn’t going far.”

  “It’s to a place called the Coven.”

  “The Coven? Isn’t that the little tea shop in Walter Street?”

  “That’s it. Little place not been open long. I’m really worried about her. She seemed a bit shaky.”

  “I see,” I said.

  I came out of the house and walked to Princes Street.

  She must be going to have tea, since the Coven was a tea shop. I thought, she wants to get out, that’s what it is. It must be boring for her to be always indoors. That would be a real trial for someone who had always liked gaiety. I pictured her taking a cab to the tea shop, having tea and cakes … and then going home. It was just a little outing.

  She was really very frail. Suppose I went to the Coven, just to see if she was all right. I might have a cup of tea with her. I would suggest that we make these little excursions now and then when she was feeling well enough. That would get her out of the house.

  I came to the Coven. It was small. In the window were homemade cakes and a sign which said “Lunches. Teas.”

  I looked through the window between the cakes and I saw her at once. She was not alone. There was a woman with her.

  I stared—first at her and then at her companion. There was something familiar about the latter. Then she turned and I saw her face clearly.

  It was Ellen Farley.

  I could not take my eyes from her, and just at that moment Zillah turned her head and gazed towards the window. We were looking straight at each other.

  Her eyes dilated slightly and I saw the colour rush into her cheeks.

  I turned and walked away.

  I went straight home and up to my room.

  Zillah going out to meet Ellen Farley—the key witness who could not be found!

  What did it mean? What could it mean?

  I COULD NOT REST. I wanted to tell Ninian. I thought of the pains he had taken to find Ellen Farley without success. It would have meant so much if she could have told the court that she had asked me to buy arsenic. It would have explained that entry in the book which was so damning against me.

  I could hear Ninian’s voice: “If only we could find that woman!”

  It so happened that he was working late that night on a specially demanding case. He had brought some books home with him on the previous night in the hope of finding a similar example which could be of use to him. It was a point of law which he wanted to verify.

  I must tell him that I had seen her! Could I have been mistaken? It might have been someone who looked like her. I should have confronted them. Why had I been so foolish as to go away? I had been so shocked … so shaken … so bewildered.

  But Zillah had seen me. She had looked horrified. It must have been Ellen Farley. But even now doubts kept coming into my mind. Could I trust myself?

  I was in bed when Ninian came home. He looked very tired. He would be in court the next day. I thought, I will speak to him tomorrow evening … after I have seen Zillah.

  The next morning I went to see Zillah. Mrs. Kirkwell met me in the hall.

  “She’s very bad,” she said. “I’ve sent for the doctor. He should be here at any minute. It was going out yesterday. She came back in a state.”

  “Was she alone?”

  “Oh yes. The cabby knocked at the door and helped me in with her. He said he didn’t think she was well. I got her to bed right away and said I’d get the doctor. But she said no, she’d be better in the morning.”

  “And she wasn’t?”

  Mrs. Kirkwell shook her head. “So I sent for him without asking her. I thought I’d better.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. I’ll go up and see her.”

  She was lying propped up with pillows and seemed to be finding difficulty in getting her breat
h.

  “Hello, Davina,” she said. “Can’t talk very much. It’s my breathing.”

  I went to the bed and sat close.

  “Zillah,” I said. “Tell me …”

  She pointed to the table on which lay a large, rather bulky envelope.

  “For you,” she said. “There’s another, too.”

  I saw that beside the large envelope was a smaller one. They both had my name on them.

  “You … can read them when I’ve gone.”

  “Gone? Gone where?”

  She smiled at me. “The big one, I mean. The little one you can read when you get home.”

  “This is mysterious.”

  She lifted her hand in a feeble gesture. “You’ll understand. You’ll see …”

  “Something’s happened,” I said. “You shouldn’t have gone out yesterday.”

  “Had to,” she said. “You saw …”

  “Was it really? I couldn’t believe it.”

  “You’ll understand. I had to. You’ll see.”

  I heard someone coming up the stairs. There was a tap on the door and Mrs. Kirkwell came in with the doctor.

  “Ah, Mrs. Glentyre … not so well today, I hear,” he said.

  Mrs. Kirkwell looked at me meaningfully. I was to leave, she was implying.

  I went downstairs, wondering what had happened. I had not been mistaken. She had been with Ellen Farley. What could it mean?

  I was clutching both envelopes. The large one and the small one. She had said she wanted me to open the small one when I arrived home. I went into the drawing room to wait for the doctor’s visit to be over, and I opened the small envelope.

  I read:

  Dear Davina,

  I have been thinking so much about you, particularly since you have come back. There is so much you ought to know and you shall. I have been on the point of confiding in you many times but I could not. I just hadn’t the courage. But you shall know and it won’t be long now.

  I know I haven’t much time left. The doctor has more or less told me so. I begged him to tell me the truth. I didn’t want to be kept in the dark. There’s no cure for what I have. It may be a day … a week … or a month. But it is not far-off. Who should know that better than I?

  I want you to read what I have written. It’s taken me a long time to get it all down. I did it some time ago as soon as I knew how ill I was. But I can’t tell you yet. You’ll have to wait. And when you do know, you’ll understand.

  I didn’t think I was going to get so fond of you. I am so happy you married your Ninian. He’s a good man and he truly loves you. He’s proved his devotion and any woman would be grateful for that.

  So be happy. There isn’t going to be anything to stop you and Ninian and little Stephen having a wonderful life. That’s what I want for you. But please … please don’t open the other until I am dead. I know you ought to, but I’m selfish … and I want you to wait.

  One who loves you,

  ZILLAH

  I reread the letter. I had a burning desire to open the other, but I restrained myself.

  I had not been able to ask her the question I had come to ask. Why had Ellen Farley been at the tea shop with Zillah? She had been upset when she received the letter which must have come from Ellen. She always went out when she received such notes. Why should she be seeing Ellen Farley?

  The door opened and Mrs. Kirkwell came in with the doctor.

  I stood up uncertainly. He was looking very grave.

  “She’s very ill,” he said. “It’s a turn for the worse, I fear. She’s resting now. She’ll rest all day. Her breathing’s bad. I’ll send a nurse tomorrow. She’ll be all right today because she’ll be sleeping most of the time. I think you should be prepared.”

  Mrs. Kirkwell said: “We’ve known, of course, doctor, that she was getting worse.”

  He nodded. “I’ll look in tomorrow. Let her sleep. It’s the best thing for her.”

  Mrs. Kirkwell took him to the door and when she came back she said: “It was silly of her to go out like that. If I’ve told her once I’ve told her twenty times.”

  “Well, there’s no point in my staying, Mrs. Kirkwell. I’ll just take a look at her before I go.”

  “Just peep in. Don’t wake her.”

  I went up the stairs … very much aware of the envelope I carried. I looked in at her. She was still propped up by pillows. I supposed that made it easier for her to breathe. She was very still and her white hands lay inert on the bed coverlet.

  She was in a deep sleep.

  I was not able to talk to her again.

  Three days later she died.

  I was very sad indeed to realise I should never see her again … never be able to talk to her.

  I had called at the house as I did every morning.

  I had looked in on her on those occasions, but she was very tired and always half asleep.

  I was not really surprised when I approached the house and saw that the blinds had been drawn at the windows.

  It was a house of death.

  I OPENED THE ENVELOPE and read:

  My dear Davina,

  I am going to tell you all that happened. I am going to, as they say, tell you the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. And I am going to tell it my way, because it is important to me that you should understand how it all came about, and I hope you won’t judge me too harshly.

  I want you to imagine a girl who hadn’t had very much. I won’t go into details about my origins, but they were sordid. I was a sad bewildered child. I had my mother, it was true. I was an only child. My father seemed to be always drunk. I can hardly remember him anything else. Every penny he earned went into the local ginshop. It was a struggle. There was not always enough to eat. I was fourteen years old when my mother died. Then I ran away.

  I won’t bore you with all that happened but I did finally work in a rather sleazy boarding house near the Tottenham Court Road. All I had was my red hair and the sort of appearance that made people notice me. I had long before learned that this was something I could use to my advantage, and I did.

  In the hotel I caught the attention of a minor theatrical agent and it was through him that I got one or two little parts. I wasn’t much good. All I had was my looks.

  All the little things that happened to me at that time don’t really come into this, so I’ll skip them. Finally I joined the Jolly Red Heads and we toured the music halls when we could get engagements.

  And then we came to Edinburgh. That’s where it all began. Men used to come to the theatre to look out for the girls. They’d be at the stage door. You know the sort of thing. And one night Hamish Vosper was there.

  I know how you dislike him. You always did. But there was something about him which appealed to some women. He was arrogant and selfish, but he was virile … he was a man. He thought he was irresistible to women and somehow he made them feel he was—and for a time, I was one of those who did. He used to come to the theatre every night we were there and after the show we’d be together.

  He told me about his employer—a gentleman who was strict and the glory-be-to-God type, but underneath all that he liked to indulge in a little fun now and then. Hamish said he had a hold over him because he’d discovered what he was up to. He had this invalid wife, said Hamish, and of course there had not been much between them for some years, which was more than the old fellow could take. So he had his little jaunts. He knew that Hamish knew and Hamish only had to give him what he called “the eye” and the old fellow would turn a blind one to whatever Hamish wanted to do.

  It was an intriguing situation … and one night Hamish brought me to the notice of your father.

  He took me to supper and we liked each other from the start. He was a courtly gentleman and I hadn’t seen many of that sort. And I can say he was very taken with me, which made me like him all the more. It wasn’t long before we were going to hotels together. It was all very discreet because of his position. I thought it wouldn�
�t last but he got more and more fond of me in a sentimental sort of way.

  Hamish was tickled to death and he had an idea. “You ought to come to the house,” he said. “I know … you could be a governess. There is a girl.” That made me laugh. Me … a governess? Well, the Red Heads were on the way out. We had the occasional boo when we came on. We’d known for a long time that we simply weren’t good enough for the West End. That was why we were touring the provinces. I thought it would be nice to have a comfortable home and not have to do all this travelling, so I said I was interested in this governessing business.

  I swear I did not know how Hamish arranged it. I had no idea that there was already a governess and she had to be got rid of. I wouldn’t have agreed to that … or I don’t think I would. I want to be absolutely honest, you see. And I was rather desperate at that time.

  Well, your Lilias went and Hamish suggested to your father that he brought me in. It shows how besotted your father was about me … for he agreed.

  I took to you from the start. I knew, of course, I couldn’t teach you anything. You were far better educated already than I ever could be, but I thought it was a bit of fun … and much better than doing the Jolly Red Heads to audiences who were growing more and more critical.

  Then your father asked me to marry him. I couldn’t believe my luck. I would leave the old life behind me. It was the chance of a lifetime. I could be comfortable for the rest of my days, the darling of a doting old man. It seemed too good to be true.

  I was more contented than I ever hoped to be. I had forgotten Hamish. I would have a secure home and a promise of comfort for the rest of my life. I would be the mistress of the house. But Hamish was still the coachman.

  He was dissatisfied. Whose idea had it been? And who was getting everything out of it while he was getting nothing? Then he had a plan. He wanted to marry me … and be master of the house. I was horrified at what this implied. I was fond of my new life, fond of my husband, fond of my new stepdaughter. I liked it all. But Hamish wouldn’t have it. He had started it and he was going to see it carried through as he wanted it.

  You can guess the rest. I was weak. Hamish still had some power over me. I knew what was in his mind. I should have exposed him. I should have confessed to my relationship with him. Oh, there were lots of things I should have done!