Patricia Wentworth - Lonesome Road

A faint shudder passed over Rachel.

“It was a very hard push.”

“So that it might have been a man or a woman.”

“I think so.”

“It wasn’t the kind of blow that a very strong man would strike-Mr. Brandon for instance?”

Rachel began to laugh.

“How do you know that Mr. Brandon is so strong?”

“Only a very strong man could have pulled you up.”

Rachel went on laughing. It was a relief to laugh.

“My dear Miss Silver, if Mr. Brandon had knocked me over the cliff, I should never have had a chance to catch hold of my bush. I should have gone flying right out to sea.”

Miss Silver’s eyes twinkled pleasantly.

“And that is just what I wanted to know,” she said. “It comes to this, you see-the person who pushed you over did not use any very great force. You were taken unawares, and you were thrown off your balance. It may quite easily have been a woman.”

Rachel winced sharply. All the laughter went out of her.

Miss Silver leaned forward.

“I am sorry to pain you, but I am bound to ask these questions. However, for the present I have done. I spent quite a profitable time before coming up to you. I had some conversation with all your relatives. I find that the manner in which people behave to someone whom they consider quite unimportant is often highly illuminating.”

Rachel had no illusions about her family. She quailed a little. She hoped for the best as she said,

“And were you illuminated?”

Miss Silver stabbed her pale blue wool with a yellow needle like a long, thin stick of barley-sugar. She said in a dry little voice,

“Oh, considerably.”

Rachel said, “Well?”

“Each of them has something on his or her mind. With most of them it is, I think, money.”

“Yes?”

“Mrs. Wadlow talks very freely. It does not matter to her whether the person she talks to is a stranger or not. All that matters is that she should be able to talk about her dearest Maurice, and her fears for his health if he should go to Russia, and her hopes that you will make it possible for him to engage in some much safer enterprise in this country. She also talks, but with less feeling, about her daughter, whom she seems to suspect of being financially embarrassed and possibly on the brink of an elopement.”

“Mabel said all that?”

Miss Silver nodded.

“In about twenty minutes-on the sofa-after dinner. I had not much talk with Miss Caroline, but I observed her. She is deeply troubled, and uncertain what she ought to do. Mr. Richard is, of course, in love with her, and her trouble may merely be that the course of true love does not run quite smooth. Are there financial obstacles to their marriage?”

Rachel said, “I don’t know. Richard won’t take anything from me. I helped him with his training, and he has paid me back. I don’t know whether he is in a position to marry or not. Caroline ought to have about three hundred a year, but I think she must have had losses. She’s been doing without things, and I know she sold a ring. I haven’t liked to say anything-she’s sensitive.”

Miss Silver’s needles clicked again.

“Mr. Wadlow has a worried manner. Small things appear important to him. This kind of character is confusing even to the trained observer. Trifles are so much in evidence that one is tempted to assume that there is nothing behind them. This may be the case-or not. I reserve judgment about Mr. Wadlow.”

“And Cosmo?”

“Mr. Frith is a very charming person. I was particularly struck with the fact that he took the trouble to be charming to me.”

Rachel’s heart warmed to Cosmo, all the more because she had felt a little nervous. He didn’t always take the trouble to make himself agreeable to a dull visitor. She said,

“I’m glad you like Cosmo. He’s a bit of a spoilt child, but he has the kindest heart in the world.”

Miss Silver smiled brightly.

“Kind hearts are indeed more than coronets, as dear Lord Tennyson says.”

Rachel felt a wild desire to finish the quotation, but she restrained herself.

“How did you get on with Ella Comperton?” she asked.

“She seems very much interested in slum clearance.”

Rachel laughed.

“She is always very much interested in something. It is never the same thing for very long. All very worthy objects, but she rather does them to death.”

Miss Silver looked up shrewdly.

“She collects for them?”

“Most zealously. Did she collect from you?”

“A mere half-crown. And from you?”

Rachel laughed again.

“I’m afraid I don’t get off with half-a-crown.”

Miss Silver laid down her knitting and produced notebook and pencil from the black satin bag.

“Forgive me, Miss Treherne, but I should be glad to have the name of any society or charitable institution to which you have contributed through Miss Comperton during the past year, together with the amount contributed.”

Rachel bit her lip.

“Miss Silver, I hardly think-”

Miss Silver’s eyes brightened.

“An attempt has been made on your life. I suspect no one-yet. But until I suspect someone it is my business to check up on everyone. If they are innocent, no harm is done. If one of them is guilty-are you a religious woman, Miss Treherne?”

Rachel said, “Yes.”

Miss Silver nodded approvingly.

“Then you will agree with me that the best thing that can happen to anyone who is doing wrong is to be found out. If he is not found out he will do more wrong and earn a heavier punishment. And now-those particulars if you please.”

Rachel gave them.

When Miss Silver reached her own room she sat down on a small upright chair and plunged into thought for the space of about ten minutes. Then she glanced at her own little clock, a loudly ticking contraption of Swiss origin in a wooden case freely decorated with carved edelweiss, which she had placed in the exact center of the mantelpiece, and observing that it was still not quite ten o’clock, rose up and rang the bell.

She was just thinking of ringing it again, when a plump, rosy-faced girl arrived in a hurry.

“Now I wonder,” said Miss Silver, “whether I might speak to Louisa. That is her name, is it not-Miss Treherne’s maid?”

“Oh, yes, miss. But if there’s anything I can do-”

“Not at the moment, thank you. Was it you who unpacked for me?… And your name?… Ivy? Thank you very much, Ivy. Now if you will just ask Louisa to look in for a few moments on her way upstairs. I suppose her room is somewhere near Miss Treherne’s… Oh, the door beyond Miss Treherne’s sitting-room? Then I shall only be taking her a step out of her way.”

When Ivy had departed, Miss Silver retraced her steps. She passed the doors of Rachel Treherne’s bedroom and sitting-room, and then stood listening for a moment before tapping lightly on what she now knew to be Louisa Barnet’s door. Receiving no answer, she turned the handle and went in.

About ten minutes later she was back in her own room saying, “Come in!” to Louisa’s knock. But Louisa was by no means anxious to enter. She remained upon the threshold.

“Were you wanting anything, miss?”

Miss Silver said, “Yes,” and added in a tone of authority,

“Please come in and shut the door.”

Louisa complied ungraciously. Her manner made it plain that it was not her place to wait upon the bedrooms.

Miss Silver indicated a chair at a slight distance from her own.

“Will you sit down. I want to talk to you.”

“It’s getting late, miss.”

“Sit down please. I am a private enquiry agent, and I am here in that capacity. I want to talk to you about your mistress-about the attempts which are being made upon her life.”