Colonel Bostock gave an expostulatory grunt.
“What the fellow might have done isn’t evidence, madam!”
Miss Silver met his frown with undisturbed placidity. She hastened to agree with him.
“Precisely. There was no evidence. I am merely telling you what led me to enquire whether any evidence existed. I went to my room last night at a quarter to ten. A few minutes later the young under housemaid, Polly Parsons, came in to turn down the bed. On thinking this over it occurred to me that she might, whilst performing the same office on Thursday night, have noticed the clock in Mr. Wray’s room. I found an opportunity of questioning her just before lunch to-day, and this is what she told me. She had been helping with the washing-up on Thursday night because of the party, but when Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose went away at a quarter to ten Louisa sent her up to turn down the two gentlemen’s beds and put a couple of hot-water bottles in Mr. Wray’s because there hadn’t been time to air it. She came up the back stairs on the kitchen side of the house and along past Mrs. Wray’s and Miss Paradine’s rooms, and she saw Mr. Pearson come out of Mr. Wray’s room and run along the passage towards the back stairs on that side. She said she wondered what he was doing in Mr. Wray’s room. She went in and turned down the bed and put in the hot-water bottles, and just as she was straightening up she saw the clock on the mantelpiece, and she thought, ‘Well, it is late!’ because the hands were standing at ten minutes past ten. Then she went across the passage into Mr. Pearson’s room, and the clock there made it five minutes to. She thought how angry Mr. Paradine would be, because all the clocks had to be just so, and she says she went down into the kitchen and talked about it to the other girl, Gladys, and to Louisa.”
Colonel Bostock pursed up his lips and whistled.
Vyner said, “One of the first things we did was to check up on the clocks. The one in Mr. Wray’s room was right to the tick on the Friday morning-but of course it would be.”
Miss Silver nodded.
“Mr. Pearson would have set the hands back again whilst Mr. Wray was in the bathroom. He strikes me as a very thorough young man.” She paused, gave her slight cough, and continued. “There is just one other point. Mr. Wray says that he and Mr. Pearson came down to the dining-room for a drink soon after half past eleven. When I asked him if he could not be a little more exact he said oh, yes, he looked at the clock, saw that the hands were standing at sixteen or seventeen minutes to twelve, and proposed that they should go down to the dining-room. As they came into the hall, he heard the front door close. But Mr. Mark Paradine says he left the house at half past eleven, and it was he who shut that door. There would be a definite discrepancy if it were not that we now know that the clock in Mr. Wray’s room was a quarter of an hour fast. This discrepancy corroborates Polly’s story.”
Colonel Bostock whistled again. Vyner said,
“There is a clock in the hall, and one in the dining-room. Wouldn’t Mr. Wray have been likely to notice the discrepancy himself?”
Miss Silver shook her head.
“I think not. The hall has only one very dim light, and as to the dining-room, Mr. Pearson could have provided against any danger of the clock on the mantelpiece being noticed by only switching on the light over the sideboard. This would appear quite natural, as the drinks were there. In any case I do not think that Mr. Wray was in a very observant frame of mind. He had just met his wife again after a year’s estrangement, and his thoughts were very much taken up with his own affairs.”
Vyner nodded.
“That’s true enough. Well, Miss Silver, Mr. Harrison will be here any moment now.” His eyes were most intelligently bright. “We’ll have to get along with opening that safe. Are you thinking that we may come across a motive for Mr. Pearson there?”
Miss Silver looked prim.
“I would not like to say that, Superintendent.”
Chapter 43
Mr. Harrison arrived very punctually at half past two. At a quarter to three precisely he opened James Paradine’s safe. The original intention had been that Mark and Richard Paradine should be present, but in view of recent developments it was decided that as many of the family as were in the house should be invited to attend. Miss Silver was there, and so was an inconspicuous Mr. Jones, sent up by Birleton’s leading firm of valuers. Miss Paradine raised her eyes at him and, leaning towards Mark, enquired in a low voice whether he was Mr. Harrison’s clerk. On receiving a negative reply she appeared faintly surprised, but asked no further.
Mr. Harrison, having opened the safe, stepped back and made way for Superintendent Vyner, who proceeded to lift out and lay upon the writing-table the faded red leather cases which Mr. Paradine had handled on the night of his death. He took hold of them with a carefully gloved hand, and as he set each one down he touched the spring and threw back the lid.
“We’ll just check up on these before we go any further, Mr. Harrison.”
Mr. Harrison produced a list and read from it:-
“Diamond tiara-valued three years ago, £4,000.
Diamond solitaire earrings-ditto £1,000.
Solitaire diamond ring-£500.
Diamond cluster ring-£200.
Diamond marquise ring-£150.
Diamond half-hoop ring-£200.
Pair diamond bracelets-£1,000.
Corsage ornament-£2,000.
Diamond bar brooch-£100.
Diamond sunburst-£400.
Diamond butterfly-£150.
Diamond trefoil brooch-£200.”
“All present and correct,” said Vyner. He glanced over his shoulder in a casual manner. “Mr. Jones, will you be so good-”
Everyone had been looking at the diamonds. Grace Paradine had not seen them for twenty years. Strange to think of them shut up like that in the dark, keeping their beauty and their brilliance as they had kept their value. Clara’s diamonds-the thought went through her mind slightingly. She had never really liked Clara. They took Frank Ambrose back to the last time he had seen his mother wear them. She had looked ill and frail. Over their glitter her eyes had been tired, and faded, and kind. Richard, Lydia, Phyllida, and Elliot Wray had never seen them before except in the portrait above the mantelpiece. Mark had both seen and handled them. His look passed over them without interest. He was wishing only that all this formal business should be over, for then he would know whether they were going to arrest him or not. The diamonds had for him at the moment about as much allure as chips of gravel. Albert Pearson, who might have been supposed to take a professional interest, appeared almost as indifferent. And yet that was perhaps not quite the right word. Hesitating on the outskirts of the group about the table, he seemed to experience some embarrassment at being there at all. As a relation he would hardly have a claim. As James Paradine’s secretary then? But he was not being called upon for any professional duty. He blinked once or twice behind his thick lenses and pushed sweating hands deep into his pockets.
Mr. Jones said “Allow me-” and stepped past him.
Sitting primly upright at the far side of the table, Miss Silver watched him come. She was not knitting. Her hands rested in her lap. Her eyes were bright and very intent. They watched Mr. Jones-a little man, fair-skinned and indeterminate, with old-fashioned pince-nez sitting rather crooked, and a set of gleaming artificial teeth which imparted a slight lisp to his speech. He came right up to the table, bent over the cases, looking into each with an effect of painstaking scrutiny, and said in his gentle, lisping voice,
“You are aware, I suppose, Mr. Paradine, that some of these stones are copies?”
Shocked into immediate interest, Mark straightened up, came forward a step, and standing level with Mr. Jones and the Superintendent, said in a startled tone,
“What do you mean?”
Mr. Jones picked up a pen from the table, held it poised, and used the nib as a pointer. It hovered above the trefoil brooch.
“That is a copy-very good paste. So is the butterfly-and the bar brooch. So are the stones i
n these solitaire earrings and the solitaire ring. The large centre stone in the corsage ornament has also been replaced by paste.”
Mark said, “What!” And then, “Are you sure?”
Mr. Jones showed his gleaming dentures in a slight pitying smile.
“There is no doubt of it at all, Mr. Paradine.”
Silence descended on the room. Superintendent Vyner’s eyes turned towards Miss Silver. As plainly as if he had spoken, they said, “Well, there’s your motive.”
Miss Silver coughed, and, as if by one consent, they both looked at Albert Pearson. It was not only his hands that were sweating now. His forehead glistened. Even to the most casual eye he was ill, and ill at ease.
Vyner turned to Mr. Jones.
“The rest of the stones all right?”
Mr. Jones produced a pocket magnifying glass and brought it to bear upon each piece of jewelry in turn. The process appeared to be interminable. But in time all things come to an end. The magnifying glass went back into a deep breast pocket. Mr. Jones lisped his assurances, and was encouraged to depart. The door shutting behind him sounded to Albert Pearson like the crack of doom. His heart beat with sickening heavy thumps. His hair was clammy on his brow. Through the mist which clouded his glasses he was aware that everyone had turned in his direction. It was like the worst kind of nightmare. He heard Superintendent Vyner addressing him by name.
“Will you come up to the table, Mr. Pearson. I should like to ask you one or two questions. At the same time it is my duty to warn you that what you say may be taken down and used in evidence against you.”
He came forward, stumbled upon a chair, and finding himself seated, began mechanically to polish his misted glasses. When he put them on again there was a smart young constable with a notebook almost at his elbow and everyone was looking at him-everyone except Phyllida, who looked as if she was going to cry. Of the others, Miss Paradine wore the kind of expression with which she might have dismissed a dishonest kitchenmaid. It was too much de-haut-en-bas to be vindictive, but it held a very definite trace of satisfaction. He was not only outside the family circle now, he was judged and damned before ever a word was spoken. As he sat there he could feel the ring of circumstance closing in to damn him. He was to be what he had always known they would make him if they could-the scape-goat. Well, he’d got his alibi-let them see if they could break it. He’d been one too many for them there. He squared his shoulders, leaned forward with his arms upon the table, and said,
“I’m perfectly willing to answer any question you like.”
They were all looking at him. The Superintendent and Mark standing together over the laid-out cases where the diamonds caught the light. Lydia Pennington on Mark’s other side, moving closer, slipping her hand inside his elbow. Elliot Wray with an arm round Phyllida, who was shaking-and what had she got to shake about, damn her? Against the mantelpiece, directly under his mother’s portrait, Frank Ambrose staring gloomily, not so much at him as past him down the room. Across the corner from the Superintendent, at the end of the table, Miss Silver, dumpy and dowdy, with her ridiculous bog-oak brooch and the small bright eyes which looked you through and through. Across the other corner from her, Mr. Harrison, grave and shocked. Beyond him Miss Paradine, Richard, and right at his elbow here, the young constable with the notebook.
Albert Pearson set his mind, set that rather heavy jaw, met all those shocked, accusing looks, and said stubbornly,
“Well-what about it?”
Chapter 44
Vyner said, “Mr. Pearson, there are certain obvious reasons why this discovery is compromising for you. A substitution of stones such as has taken place is not everybody’s job. It could also only have been done by someone who had access to this room and to the late Mr. Paradine’s keys. You happen to combine both these qualifications. It is therefore my duty to ask you whether you have anything to say.”
Albert had himself in hand. He said in his earnest, boring voice,
“Quite so. But I am afraid I can’t help you. I know nothing at all about this.”
“The diamonds are gone, Mr. Pearson, to the tune of something like two thousand pounds. They didn’t go of themselves.”
“I suppose not, Superintendent. It doesn’t occur to you that Mr. Paradine himself may have had them replaced?”
“Are you going to say that you acted under his orders?”
“Certainly not. I am only saying you may find it difficult to prove that the work was not done by Mr. Paradine’s orders. You will naturally examine the cases for fingerprints, but I am afraid that you will be disappointed. You see, Mr. Paradine handled them so constantly himself. He liked having the jewels out and looking at them-a fact which would have made it very difficult for anyone to tamper with them.”
There was a pause before Vyner said,
“You are very well informed, Mr. Pearson.”
The large round glasses were turned upon him steadily. Albert said,
“What do you expect? I was his secretary.”
“Very well. I said there were obvious reasons for suspecting you. There are others not so obvious. Was it in your capacity as secretary that you put on the clock in Mr. Wray’s room by a quarter of an hour on Thursday night?”
A dull, ugly colour came up in patches under Albert’s skin. The skin was clammy. His hands lay in full view upon the table. It took all his will power to keep them there unclenched. He said in a rougher voice,
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do. The under housemaid, Polly Parsons, saw you come out of Mr. Wray’s room when she came up to turn down the beds. She was surprised to find that the clock in that room put the time at ten minutes past ten, whereas the clock in your own room made it five minutes short of the hour. Fifteen minutes’ difference, Mr. Pearson. You were very careful indeed to have an alibi for the time that Mr. Paradine was to be waiting in his study. He was waiting there to receive a confession. When you went in to say goodnight to him just after ten minutes to ten, Lane, who was immediately behind you, heard Mr. Paradine say, ‘Hullo, Albert-have you come to confess?’ You had no time to answer him because Lane came in with the tray. I suppose you were both there for a few minutes, which would bring the time right for you to run upstairs, alter the clock, and be down again to meet Mr. Wray and stay with him until that altered clock gave you your alibi by pointing to eight minutes past twelve. But it was then actually only seven minutes to-there was still seven minutes of the time which Mr. Paradine had set. You said goodnight to Mr. Wray, who went immediately to the bathroom and turned on the taps. You knew that Mr. Paradine would still be in the study-you had time to catch him there, and to answer the question which he had asked you. If you had a confession to make you had time to make it. If you did not mean to make a confession you had time to reach the terrace by way of any of those ground-floor windows. There is a print of yours upon the frame of the bathroom window. In common with everyone else in the house, you were aware that Mr. Paradine invariably went out on the terrace before he retired for the night. Someone waited there for him, Mr. Pearson. Someone pushed him over the parapet. It is my duty to tell you-”
Albert Pearson jerked back his chair so violently that it crashed. The patchy colour had gone from his face, the dark skin had a greenish tinge. He leaned over with his hands on the table, propping himself. If ever a man showed the extreme of fear, he showed it. But there was something else-something which made Miss Silver lay a hand on the Superintendent’s sleeve. He was about to step back in order to pass behind Mark, but the hand checked him. She said,
“Wait! He has something to say.”
Leaning there, sweating, shaking, Albert said it. He looked straight down the table over Miss Silver’s head to Frank Ambrose leaning tall and gloomy against the black marble of the mantelshelf.
“Mr. Ambrose-you can’t let him do it-you can’t let him arrest me! You can’t go on holding your tongue, and nor can I. I’m an innocent man, and you know it. If I was there
, so were you, and we both saw what happened. You’re not going to stand there and hold your tongue! I’d have held mine if it hadn’t come to this, but I’m not holding it now-I couldn’t be expected to. If you don’t speak, I’m going to-and you may think it comes better from you.”
There was a startled silence. All the faces turned towards Frank Ambrose, whose face showed nothing except an impassive fatigue. When Superintendent Vyner said sharply, “Mr. Ambrose?” he straightened himself with an effort and answered the implied question.
“Yes-there is something that I must say. Pearson is right. I don’t think I can let you arrest him. You see, I came back again.”
Miss Silver rose to her feet, moved her chair to one side, and sat down again. By turning her head either to the right or to the left she could now see both Albert Pearson and Frank Ambrose. For the moment her attention was engaged by the latter.
Vyner said,
“In a statement made this afternoon, Mr. Ambrose, you said that you came back here to see Mr. Paradine at about half past ten. This is corroborated by Mrs. Wray, who heard your uncle address you by name as you came in. You say further that you remained for about twenty minutes and then left the house and went home. Is that correct?”
“Quite correct-except that I didn’t go home.”
“You left the house?”
“Yes, but I didn’t go home. I will try to explain. I intended to go home, but I didn’t want to get there too early. I was a good deal distressed at my stepfather’s frame of mind. I was afraid of a serious breach in the family. He had told me what he meant to do, and I could see that it was likely to lead to a breach. The night was then fine. I wanted to think, and I set out to walk the long way round by the stone bridge-it’s about three miles. When I got to my own door I looked at my watch. It was between a quarter and ten minutes to twelve. I didn’t feel like going in- I felt that I must go back and find out what had been happening here. I knew that my step-father would still be up, and I planned to go by way of the terrace and either catch him as he came out or knock on the glass door and get him to let me in. I went back by the foot-bridge and up the cliff path. In daylight I do it in seven minutes. I suppose I may have taken ten- I wasn’t hurrying. I had made up my mind that it would be better to wait till he came out on the terrace-he might have had someone in the study with him. I came up on to the end of the terrace and about half way along it. Then I stopped. The sky had clouded over behind me, but there was a little moonlight on the river. There was a good deal of diffused light. I could see the parapet against the line of the river, and I could distinguish the windows against the white wall of the house. I saw the window of my step-father’s bathroom thrown up. It is a sash window. Someone leaned out of the lower half.”
The Clock Strikes Twelve Page 22
