Patricia Wentworth - Through The Wall

Richard Cunningham said,

“A horrible woman! Thank God she is taking herself off! A boardinghouse on the south coast-probably Brighton. She will change her name, establish her right to the best armchair, and sink heavily into coma. Penny and Felix will be well rid of her. They owe you something for that, as well as for all the rest.” Then, with a change of voice and manner, “Now just what put it into your head that Penny was in danger?”

She met his look with a thoughtful one.

“I really do not know. I feared there might be some further development. The bias against Felix Brand had been so marked. He would be so convenient a scapegoat for this second murder. But Penny gave him an alibi. I thought an attempt might be made to implicate her. It even occurred to me to wonder whether an attempt might not be made to stage a suicide-” She broke off and said very earnestly, “You must understand, Mr. Cunningham, that it was all very vague- a matter of impression and conjecture. But it was enough to make me feel that I could not acquiesce in those two young people being shut away from the rest of us with a malignant person who had already killed two people in a particularly cold-blooded and shocking manner. I felt that there should be a means of access, and it was with this in my mind that I asked Penny to unlock the door between the two houses. I really had no plan at that time, only a strong disposition to ensure that the means of access would be available. I knew that by leaning out of Mrs. Felton’s window I could keep some check on Miss Remington’s movements. When I had ascertained that she was not in her room I went and looked out of my own window and discovered that she was with her sister. As you know, my attention was immediately arrested by the words, ‘I shall say Felix did it.’ The window was open, and I could hear all that passed. Miss Remington proceeded to elaborate her statement about Felix Brand, and in doing so she gave herself away. When she said, speaking of Felix, ‘He saw the light on that blue and yellow handkerchief she was wearing over her head, and he followed her down to the terrace and pushed her over the edge after Cyril Felton had come in, and then of course Cyril guessed, and he killed him too,’ she was describing what had actually happened. Only it was not Felix Brand who had seen the light dazzle on that very noticeable head-scarf and followed Helen Adrian to the terrace, but she herself.”

Richard said, “There was something about blackmail, wasn’t there?”

Miss Silver coughed.

“Miss Remington’s exact words were, ‘And then, of course, Cyril guessed and tried to blackmail him and he killed him too.’ ”

“Then it does look as if Felton had actually tried to blackmail her.”

“It is impossible to say. You must remember that she was fabricating a case against Felix Brand. As I have already said, I think it is certain that she heard Cyril Felton tell his wife he knew who the murderer was. She had a quick, malicious brain. She was putting together a tissue of lies and making it sound extremely plausible. But when she mentioned the light shining on the head-scarf I suspected that she was describing something which she had seen herself. When, a little later, she said, ‘The police won’t take any notice of what Penny says-they won’t have any opportunity, I can promise you that!’ and, later on, ‘I don’t think we need bother about Penny,’ I became very much alarmed. No one who heard Miss Remington pronounce those words could have had any doubt as to their meaning. Cyril Felton was dead. Penny was now the inconvenient witness. But she need not be regarded-there was no need to bother about her. Mrs. Brand was being frightened into submission, and Penny would be silenced. I realized that the danger was immediate. As you now know, Miss Remington had prepared very carefully for this third murder. A fatal dose of Mrs. Brand’s sleeping-tablets had been dissolved in the coffee. Eliza tells me that Penny once choked on a tablet as a child and has been nervous about swallowing one ever since. If she took one, it would have to be dissolved. Miss Remington, of course, knew this, and had reserved a single harmless tablet to dissolve in Penny’s presence in order to account for the medicated taste. If Penny had drunk that coffee she would have lain down on her bed and never waked again. Miss Remington would have seen to it that the coffee-cup bore no other fingerprints than Penny’s. The final wickedness was the scrawled note in a most convincing imitation of Penny’s handwriting which was found between the pages of Miss Remington’s library book- ‘I can’t bear it anymore-Felix-’ If we had not come in time, that note would have been discovered by Penny’s side, and who would have doubted that she had taken her own life under the burden of a knowledge too heavy to be borne? I can never feel sufficiently grateful that my suspicions were aroused, and that we did come in time.”

Marian said, “Would she have drunk the coffee?”

Miss Silver coughed.

“It is impossible to say. She was in a dazed and shocked condition. She had been brought up in the habit of obedience. Miss Remington was exerting the utmost pressure of her will. It is indeed providential that we came when we did.”

It is easy and dramatic to bring down the curtain at the end of a play, but in human affairs there is no final curtain. If one player leaves the stage, the others still have lives to live and problems to be solved. Marian and Richard found theirs an easy one. In a few days they had come to a mutual trust and understanding which in ordinary circumstances it might have taken weeks and months to reach. Each had seen the other under the pressure of fear and strain, and had found qualities of unselfishness, fortitude, and kindness. The strong attraction which had been between them from the first had brought them so close that neither could now make a plan which did not include the other. Almost without a spoken word, certainly without set question and answer, they found themselves on the footing of lovers. When, on that dreadful night whilst the search for Cassy Remington was still going on, Marian stood for a moment with Richard’s arm about her, she had the strangest feeling that they had stepped out of it all into a secret world full of beauty and light, and that this world was their own native country, in which and of which they were, and to which they could always return. In a moment he would go back and take his part in the search and she must go to Ina, but the country was theirs and they would be free of it for all their lives. They did not even kiss. They held each other and were glad, and then went back to all that must be done.

Now, when Miss Silver’s farewells had been said, they sat down to talk about plans. Since there was nothing to wait for, and every reason for being together, they would be married at once. And their home would be Ina’s-there was no problem there. It was the question of the house which had to be discussed.

Richard said, “Better wait a bit before trying to sell. Even with a housing shortage there won’t be much competition. Better wait till the story has died down.”

Marian looked out at the sunny garden. Mactavish was playing with a last year’s leaf which he had found amongst the wallflower plants. He patted it lazily. His tail was like a banner, his orange coat shone in the sun. She said without turning,

“Does that sort of story die down-just by itself?”

“What do you mean?”

“I was thinking of all the things that happen in houses- people being born, and dying, having good times and bad ones, being good and bad themselves, being miserable or being happy-and the house going on.”

“Yes?”

She turned round with colour in her cheeks.