Patricia Wentworth - The Case of William Smith

William said, ‘ ’Thirty-seven or ’thirty-eight. She was very efficient.’

‘Oh, yes – a clever, efficient woman who came to rely on her own cleverness and efficiency to such an extent that she allowed these qualities to dominate her. I do not know, Mr. Eversley, whether you have yet been able to make a thorough examination of the books of your firm, but I would advise you to do so. I can only account for her subsequent actions on the supposition that your return to the firm would have involved her in criminal proceedings.’

William said, ‘Yes, I think so.’

Miss Silver coughed and proceeded.

‘Her marriage to Mr. Cyril Eversley was, of course, designed to afford her some protection. But it was not enough. She must have been conscious of defalcations too serious to be condoned. We now come to the tragic affair of Mr. Davies. I think we must conclude, Mr. Eversley, that when Mavis Jones opened your typed letter asking for an interview she received a shock. You signed it in your own handwriting, William Smith. She must have seen the first part of that signature too often not to have been struck by it. With only one word to go on, she could not be sure, but she was enough impressed to give you an appointment at an hour when neither of the partners would be there and the staff would be preparing to leave.’

William said, ‘One of the girls in the office remembers her pushing Davies off early. As a matter of fact she defeated her own ends. She hustled him, he forgot something, and he came back for it. That’s what he told you, wasn’t it, Kath?’

She said, ‘Yes.’

‘That’s when he ran into me. Of course I didn’t know him from Adam. The poor old chap went away feeling quite dazed and rang Katharine up. She isn’t sure whether she told him not to say anything or not. She wrote it to him next day, but he never got the letter.’

Miss Silver had picked up her knitting. The two blue coatees were finished and packed up ready for the post. A cardigan for the baby’s mother, her niece Ethel Burkett, was now upon the needles. About half an inch of deep bright cherry-red could be discerned – most warm, most cheerful, most comfortable. Knitting rapidly and without effort, she gave it a passing glance of admiration and reverted to the analysis of crime.

‘If Mr. Davies had been more reticent, there is very little doubt that he would have been alive today. I think there can be no doubt that he sought Miss Jones out and told her of his encounter. She probably tried to make him believe that he had been deceived by some chance likeness – she may even have commented on it herself. But when she discovered that he was in possession of her visitor’s address she must have decided that it was all too dangerous. Consider the evidence of Mr. Yates who occupied the bed next to that in which poor Mr. Davies died. The official account stated that he had passed away without speaking, which of course only meant that the nurses had not heard him speak. Mr. Yates, however, heard him say three things – the first a name which he took to be Joan or Jones, and after that two disconnected sentences, “She didn’t believe me,” and, “She pushed me.” I think there can be no doubt that Mavis Jones followed him from the office and found the opportunity she was looking for. He was pushed under a car and fatally injured. On that same evening Mr. Tattlecombe met with a very similar accident. Here we have no direct evidence. One can only weigh the probabilities and draw an inference. I think that Mavis Jones went down to Ellery Street that night to have a look at the lie of the land. I do not think it probable that she had any definite plan. It is possible, but I do not think that the probabilities lie that way. It was getting on for half-past ten at night, and she had no means of knowing whether William Smith lived on the premises, but, as it must have seemed to her perverted mind, fortune favoured her. The door opened and a man came out and crossed the pavement. She would have seen him as a dark shape against the light of the open door. In height and build he resembled William Smith. It must be remembered that though she would know Mr. Tattlecombe quite well by name as the brother of Abigail Salt, she had never seen him. What she saw now was a strong, upright figure, and the light striking upon a thick head of light-coloured hair. Mr. Tattlecombe’s hair is grey, and Mr. Eversley’s is fair. I think they would look very much the same at night with the light coming from behind. Mr. Tattlecombe has always maintained that he was “struck down”. I believe Mavis Jones pushed him, as she had pushed Mr. Davies.’

Katharine said, ‘It sounds too horribly cold-blooded.’

Miss Silver continued to knit with great rapidity.

‘It is a commonplace to say that one crime leads to another – “The lust of gain in the heart of Cain,” as Lord Tennyson so aptly says. And, if I may quote from a modern writer, “If you take the first step, you will take the last.” ’

Before the picture of Kipling as a modern the three young people sat dumb. Unconscious, Miss Silver pursued her theme.

‘We do not know when Mavis Jones discovered her mistake. She must have thought it too dangerous to repeat the attempt immediately, and she does not seem to have known that Mrs. William Eversley had obtained a situation at the Toy Bazaar.’

Katharine smiled faintly.

‘I told the family that I’d taken a job and was going away, and I didn’t give anyone my address. But – ’ she hesitated – ‘they did get to know where I was. At least Brett did – I don’t know how.’

Miss Silver’s needles clicked.

‘I think Mr. Brett Eversley rang you up late on Friday evening – the day before you married Mr. William Smith.’ She brought out the name with a smile.

Katharine said, ‘Yes.’

‘You had, I believe, taken tea with Mrs. Salt and Mr. Tattlecombe at Selby Street that afternoon. Your address was by that time known to them, and therefore to Emily Salt.’

‘I suppose so.’

William said, ‘Mr. Tattlecombe had known the address for a day or two. Miss Cole had it when we engaged Katharine. She went to Mr. Tattlecombe to complain that I was going to see Katharine in the evenings. It wasn’t her business of course, but Mrs. Bastable must have said something, and Miss Cole got worked up – she’s like that. Anyhow Mrs. Salt came to the wedding, so there wasn’t any secret about the address by then.’

The strip of cherry-coloured wool on Miss Silver’s needles had lengthened. She said,

‘Precisely. I think there can be very little doubt that Emily Salt rang up Mavis Jones, and that Mavis Jones immediately imparted the information to Mr. Brett Eversley. I do not know whether she had a grudge against him, or whether she considered that protestations of devotion on his part might ease the situation as regards the firm.’

William said, ‘It might be a bit of both. He used to run round with her. But Brett wasn’t in this business, you know. He wouldn’t have let himself be used like that if he’d known I was alive – I would like that to be quite clear to everyone. My cousins have both welcomed me back, though it has put them in an awkward position financially. Whatever Mavis Jones was doing, it was all off her own bat.’

Miss Silver inclined her head.

‘From what Mrs. Salt tells me it is evident that Miss Jones was not idle. The intimacy with Emily Salt had been resumed as far back as December. In this manner Mavis would know when Mr. Tattlecombe came to Selby Street for a period of convalescence, and she would be informed of any developments regarding William Smith. It was not hard for her to work up Emily Salt’s grievance over Mr. Tattlecombe’s will into a state which induced the poor unbalanced woman to make her two attempts upon Mr. Eversley’s life.’