Patricia Wentworth - Through The Wall

Miss Silver inclined her head.

“I think you are right, Randal. As you know, I have never believed that Felix Brand was the murderer.”

He said, “You still think-well, never mind now, let’s get on with this. I suppose Penny Halliday could have done it, but everything I’ve just said about Felix applies, and more strongly, to her. She would have a bare quarter of an hour to boil a kettle and get tea, get in through the window and kill Felton, clean up herself and the knife. That’s a point I forgot when we were talking about Felix-the murderer was lucky if he got off without a stain on him somewhere. But to get back to Penny. It would have been pretty good going, wouldn’t it? And I may say that even Crisp isn’t barking up that particular tree.”

“I am glad to hear it. It would not be possible for Penny Halliday to murder anyone.”

He looked at her in a quizzical manner.

“Not even to cover up for Felix? Tigress in defence of cub?”

Miss Silver coughed in a reproving manner.

“It would not be possible for her to stab a man in his sleep.”

“No-I believe you’re right. And, as I say, even Crisp isn’t keen on her as a suspect. Of course the person who had all the time in the world to do it is Eliza Cotton. She admits to having heard part of the conversation between Felton and his wife when she was out in the garden, and she could very easily have heard him tell her he knew who the murderer was and then say that he was going to his room to get some sleep. She says she went in and had a bath, but there was most of the afternoon for her to wait until he had dropped off and then go in and kill him. And plenty of time after that to clean the knife, and put it back, and go and have a bath. The motive, of course, would be the same as Penny Halliday’s-to protect Felix Brand.”

She coughed again, indulgently this time.

“As a hypothetical case you put it well. I do not think that you are very serious about it.”

He said, “Perhaps not. Less likely things have happened.” Then, after a pause, “I’m rather at a loose end. I brought over a search-warrant for Crisp, and I’m letting him get on with it. He’s having a female searcher to do the women and go through their clothes. You see, as I said, whoever knifed Felton would be lucky if he got away without a stain somewhere. I think everyone will have to submit to a personal search.”

“I am quite willing to do so, Randal.”

“You?”

She said in a placid voice,

“I was in the house. I have no alibi. I was quite alone in the study. I could very easily have done it. It would probably make it easier for everyone if no exceptions were made.”

He said thoughtfully,

“Yes, that’s true. And very good of you to think of it.” Then, with a half laugh, “I am expecting hysterics next door.”

As he spoke, there was a knock. Inspector Crisp followed it, notebook in hand. On seeing Miss Silver he checked, but was told to come in. To March’s “Anything fresh?” he replied, “Not yet, sir. I’ve left Mrs. Larkin with the ladies. Mrs. Brand is riding a very high horse indeed, and Miss Remington is saying she was never so insulted in her life, so I came away and left them to it. I thought you might like to know what kind of account everyone gives of how they spent the afternoon. Eliza Cotton we’ve had, Miss Halliday we’ve had. Miss Brand and Mr. Cunningham say they walked along the beach. She says round about four o’clock she dropped off, and he says he went for a stroll, but never out of sight. Says he wouldn’t have left her. Well, he could have, and he could have done the job and got back again-they were only round the next point. But where’s the motive? I can’t see that either of them has got one.”

“As you say. What were the ladies next door doing?”

Crisp did not exactly sniff. He merely gave the impression that he might have done so if he had belonged to the sniffing sex.

“Mrs. Brand says she was in her sitting-room-that’s the room corresponding to the one where Mr. Felton was killed. Her sister and Miss Halliday say she puts up her feet and goes to sleep over a book as regular as clockwork every Sunday afternoon. She says she was reading and never closed an eye, and if anyone had gone out of the front door or across in front of the window she’d have known. If you ask me, I should say she was asleep-and she isn’t the kind to wake easy.”

March nodded.

“And Miss Remington?”

“Says she made herself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, and after that she was up in her room doing this and that. Says she took off her dress and laid down, and she might have dropped off for a bit but she wouldn’t swear to it. I asked her if she heard Eliza Cotton in the garden calling the cat, and she says she might have done, she couldn’t be sure, Eliza was always calling him. I asked her whether she heard Mr. and Mrs. Felton talking in Mrs. Felton’s room, and she said if she did she wouldn’t take any notice-the house wasn’t their own any longer, and you couldn’t expect it to be quiet like it was in Mr. Brand’s time. Well, of course I wasn’t taking that for an answer. She’s a lady that will play up if you give her a chance, so I just let her see I wasn’t giving her one. I said, ‘Miss Remington, I’m putting it to you straight. Your window and Mrs. Felton’s are next door to each other. Did you hear voices coming from Mrs. Felton’s room, or did you not? She said yes, she did, and how disturbing it was and people had no consideration for other people’s feelings. I asked her could she hear what was said, and she said no, she couldn’t, it was just voices. And then she got angry and asked if I thought she didn’t hear quite enough of the chatter that went on all day without listening to it more than she could help. I pressed her, but she wouldn’t admit to hearing anything more than the voices.”

“Have you tried listening in her room whilst someone speaks in the other?”

“I did that next-got her to come up to her room and sent Wilkins in next door. Miss Brand and Mrs. Felton were together in Mrs. Felton’s room, and Mrs. Felton showed him where her husband sat when he was talking to her. Well, then Wilkins was to say something like what a fine day it was, and Mrs. Felton was to let him know whether he was speaking about as loud as her husband did.”

“How did it come off?”

Crisp frowned.

“Nothing much to go on, if you ask me. Anyone lying down on the bed, well, they wouldn’t hear anything but the voices, as Miss Remington said. The nearer you got to the window, the more you’d hear. But only in the way of sound. I didn’t get the words of what Wilkins was saying until I went right up to the window and leaned out. So that’s what it comes to-if she’d gone and hung right out of that window she could have heard what Felton said, but if she was moving about the room or lying on the bed she couldn’t. At least I couldn’t.” He stooped, pushed the notebook down into his pocket, and said, “Well, I’ll be getting back.”

When he had gone Miss Silver said,

“A zealous and responsible officer, but perhaps a little inclined to measure everything by his personal standards.”

Since this was his own opinion, March made no demur. He merely smiled in a rather non-committal manner and enquired,

“Now what exactly do you mean by that? It wasn’t just said to pass the time-was it?”

She said in a thoughtful voice,

“No, Randal. I was reflecting that Cyril Felton was an actor, and that an actor is trained to enunciate more clearly than, shall we say, Constable Wilkins. You will have noticed yourself that Mr. Felton had a very clear and pleasant speaking voice. I was also reflecting that acuteness of hearing varies considerably in quite normal individuals. I seem to have heard that Miss Remington rather prides herself on this quality. Was there not something about her having heard a cry in the night and saying that it might have been a bat?”