Patricia Wentworth - She Came Back

“Dreadful for Philip-dreadful for her-poor Anne-” Her voice went, a violent shudder ran over her.

After looking at her with frowning intensity Trent walked away to the far end of the room.

As far as she could feel anything just then, she felt relief. She had the shocked creature’s desire to creep away into a dark place and be alone. But she couldn’t do that. Behind the sense of shock she was aware of Philip. What she did and what she said now were going to matter to Philip. She had a sense of fear for him, and a great longing to help. She tried to focus her mind, to get things clear. This absorbed her so deeply that she did not notice Pelham Trent’s return until she heard his voice.

“Lyn-you’re all right-you’re not faint?”

“I’m all right-” Her tone was vague. She was coming back from a long way off.

He took a chair, pulled it close to her, and sat down.

“Lyndall, will you please listen. I hate to bother you now, but we can’t count on your being left alone. If this is murder, the police may be here at any moment. It was most unfortunate that Lilla should have mentioned Jocelyn’s coming here and saying what he did. And it’s doubly unfortunate that she should have told the police it was said to you. They’ll want to know why he came here-why he told you his wife was dead-why he went away in a hurry as soon as he found that Lilla and I were here. I’m bound to tell you that in a case of this sort a husband or wife is always under suspicion. At the very least there will be talk, publicity. You’ve got to be kept clear of it, for Jocelyn’s sake as well as your own. This murder coining on the top of all the talk about Anne Jocelyn’s return-well, my dear, you can see for yourself. If the police get it into their heads that Philip Jocelyn is fond of you, or that there’s anything between you, it will be just about the most disastrous thing that could happen-for him. You’ve got to be very careful indeed. Philip and Anne Jocelyn were your cousins, and you were very fond of them both-that’s your line. You were her bridesmaid-remember to bring that in. And-oh, my dear, don’t look at them the way you’re looking at me.”

“No-I won’t. I’m sorry-”

He put reassurance into his voice.

“You’ll be all right. Don’t say a word more than you’re obliged to. Don’t tell anyone anything. Don’t discuss anything with anyone. I’m your lawyer, you know, and that’s sound legal advice. And here’s some more, only I’m afraid you won’t like it. Don’t see Jocelyn-or if you do, don’t discuss anything.”

Her eyes darkened, the lashes screening them. He felt her withdrawn, resisting. He concentrated all that he had upon convincing her.

“You don’t know what getting mixed up in a case like this may mean. You don’t know what you are up against. You don’t know what harm you may do with a word. You don’t know how easy it is to let something slip. They’ll question you. You must remember only to answer their questions. Say yes, or say no. Don’t go farther than that.”

“Do you think I would say anything that would hurt Philip?”

“That is not for you to say. You might not know what would hurt him. You’d better keep out of it. Don’t let him tell you anything. The less you know the better.” He had been speaking in a low, tense voice that was almost a whisper. Now it changed, lightened, and resumed its normal pitch. “There-that’s all. Just be sensible and keep a still tongue, and everything will be quite all right. Jocelyn ought to get into touch with Codrington at once-he may have done so already. If he does ring you up or come here again, just push him off to the office. And remember-not one unnecessary word.”

Her eyes had closed. She opened them now with an effort and said,

“Thank you.” And then, “Pelham, will you go now? I don’t think I can talk about it any more.”

He had a word of approbation for this.

“Stick to that and everything will be quite all right. And don’t worry. I didn’t mean to frighten you about Jocelyn. If he was at the War Office he’s probably got an absolutely water-tight alibi. What we do want to avoid is raking up anything like the question of Anne Jocelyn’s identity, and having the press get hold of it, or of any other bit of scandal.”

When he was gone Lyndall sat up, her hands linked tightly in her lap, her face white and set, her eyes intent. She did not move for a long time, but in the end she got up, went over to the telephone, and dialled Janice Albany’s number.

Miss Silver looked up from her knitting at the sound of her front door bell. The hands of the clock on the mantelpiece stood at half past three. She was not expecting anyone, and had sat down by the fire to knit, and to consider with regretful interest the tragic fate of Lady Jocelyn, who was not in her opinion Lady Jocelyn at all, but Annie Joyce.

Following upon the ring she heard Emma’s rather deep tones, after which the sitting-room door was opened.

“Will you see Miss Armitage?”

Miss Silver placed her knitting carefully on the arm of her chair and rose to receive her visitor. There came in the girl with whom she had talked at Janice Albany’s. She wore the same dark green coat and hat, but she looked decidedly paler and more frail than she had done on that occasion. The big grey eyes with their dark lashes were fixed with painful intensity upon Miss Silver’s face as she said,

“Janice told me you were kind-”

“I hope so, my dear. Won’t you sit down? Now would you like to have a cup of tea with me first, or would you rather tell me what I can do for you? Emma could get the tea in a moment.”

Lyndall shook her head.

“Janice said to come and see you. She doesn’t know why. She only knows that we’re in trouble because-Anne is dead.”

Miss Silver had resumed her seat and her knitting. The needles clicked in a gentle and soothing manner.

“Yes, my dear, I know. You are referring, of course, to Lady Jocelyn.”

The faint colour of surprise tinged the transparent skin for an instant.

“How did you know-but Janice said you knew everything. Did you know that she had been shot?”

Miss Silver gave her a clear, kind glance.

“Yes, I knew.”

“That she was murdered?”

“Yes.”

With a hastily drawn breath Lyndall went on.

“Then can you tell me what I ought to do? Janice said-” The breath failed, the colour was all gone again.

“What did she say?”

Lyndall shook her head as if she couldn’t explain. Then she said,

“If I told you anything-would you have to tell the police?”

Miss Silver coughed.

“That would depend upon what it was.”

Lyndall sat looking at her. The grey eyes were asking questions. Presently she said,

“Do they know who did it?”

“No. If there is anything that you know, Miss Armitage- anything that would help to identify the criminal, you ought not to hold it back. I think you do know something, or you would not be here.”

“I don’t know whether it would help. That’s why I came- I thought you would help me to know-but it’s so difficult-I’m afraid-” Her voice went again suddenly.

Miss Silver had stopped knitting. She looked at her gravely. Then she said,

“Miss Armitage, I will tell you something. Yesterday afternoon Lady Jocelyn came and stood on the pavement opposite these flats. She remained there for some time looking up. I believe that she was trying to decide whether she would break with some dangerous past associations. I believe she had the half-formed intention of coming to see me, and I believe that if she had done so she would not now be lying dead. Afterwards I rang her up to warn her, but she had by then decided upon her course.”