Patricia Wentworth - The Clock Strikes Twelve

“Darling, if you could just keep Brenda with you and away from Irene. Both their nerves are in such a state, and I don’t really feel I can bear much more.”

Impossible to refuse. Impossible to do anything except comply affectionately. She settled down to an evening of innuendo mounting by sharp degrees towards open accusation. Attempts to divert the conversation were useless. Whether you talked about the North Pole, the war in the East, or the latest film, Brenda managed to drag Irene in somehow. It would have been amusing if it had not been frightening. Phyllida began to wonder why Brenda and Irene should be allowed a monopoly of nerves. There was nothing in the world she would have liked better than to slap Brenda’s face and burst into tears. Only of course she couldn’t.

She went on talking about as many different things as she could think of, and Brenda went on talking about Irene.

The drawing-room of the River House was not the only place where Irene was being discussed. Colonel Bostock, relaxing pleasantly in the society of his daughters, tossed a log onto the fire and, still leaning forward, remembered that there was something he had meant to ask them. He addressed himself to Janet, a healthy, well set-up young woman with a pleasant, sensible face.

“Remember the Pennington girls-Irene and, what’s her name, Lydia?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Old Paradine’s dead. One of them married the stepson, didn’t she? What’s his name-Ambrose?”

Alice Bostock said,

“There’ll be pots of money. I wonder if Irene comes in for any of it.”

“She wasn’t the red-headed one, was she?” said Colonel Bostock.

Both girls spoke together.

“Oh, no-that’s Lydia.”

Colonel Bostock leaned back. Contemplating his girls, he felt well content with them. They weren’t beauties, and they wouldn’t set the Thames on fire. They were just decent young women who could work hard and enjoy themselves when they got a holiday-reasonably goodlooking, reasonably intelligent, no kinks, no frills. Janet was the pick of the bunch. Very sensible girl Janet. Alice, a little fairer, a little slighter, not quite so much ballast, but a good girl too. And Milly-Milly took after him, the quickest of the three. Pity she couldn’t get home this time.

He said in rather an abstracted voice,

“Irene-now wasn’t there something about that girl Irene?”

Alice looked at Janet and then looked away again. Neither of the girls said anything.

Colonel Bostock repeated his remark rather more directly.

“There was something about that girl Irene, wasn’t there? You were at school with her, Janet. What was it?”

Janet said, “It’s a long time ago-”

Her father jerked an impatient shoulder.

“I suppose so. You’re twenty-five. She’ll be about your age. There was something about her. What was it? I want to know.”

Janet said reluctantly, “I meant it’s a long time ago-it doesn’t seem fair to rake it up.”

Colonel Bostock’s face displayed a lively interest.

“Rubbish! It either happened or it didn’t happen. If it did, there’ll be dozens of people who can tell me. Do you want me to go round asking them? I’m asking you two. That’s better, isn’t it? Make less talk.”

Janet looked at him seriously.

“It wouldn’t be fair to rake it up-it’s about twelve years ago. And it wasn’t anything really. I mean, nothing happened-Mina wasn’t any the worse.”

Colonel Bostock grunted. He fixed bright sarcastic eyes upon his daughter’s face.

“Nothing happened! Go on-tell me about it!”

“It was Irene’s kitten,” said Alice. “At least it wasn’t really hers-it was a stray. And of course we weren’t allowed to have pets at school, so Irene hid it in the tool-shed.”

“She gave all her pocket money to the garden boy not to tell-the gardener was away ill,” said Janet. “And she saved bits for it in a handkerchief, at lunch and tea, you know.”

“Of course she couldn’t have kept it up, but she was awfully set on that kitten. It was a hideous little thing too.” This was Alice again. “And Mina Cotterell said she was going to tell Miss Graham. She was a perfectly odious girl-we all loathed her. She said she was sure the kitten had fleas.”

“Probably had.”

Alice said, “Oh, well… Anyhow Irene got perfectly wild. I don’t honestly think she knew what she was doing. And she pushed Mina into the river.”

“She wasn’t hurt,” said Janet quickly.

Alice made a face.

“Well, she might have been. It was an awfully dangerous thing to do. You know the bit of the grounds where we weren’t allowed to go-they were definitely out of bounds because of the high bank over the river-well, I don’t know how Irene got Mina to go there with her, but she did, and then she pushed her over.”

Colonel Bostock said, “God bless my soul!” And then after a minute, “Yes, yes-I remember. The Penningtons were in a dreadful way about it. The girl had a narrow escape. Couldn’t swim, could she?”

Janet said,

“No. There was a man fishing, and he got her out. There was a most fearful row. Irene would have been expelled if the Cotterells hadn’t begged her off. It seems Mina had said the kitten would be drowned. I don’t think Irene knew what she was doing. She’s like that, you know-if she’s set on a thing she can’t think about anything else. It was that wretched kitten then. Now it’s the children. She just can’t think or talk about anything else. It’s frightfully boring.”

Colonel Bostock nodded. After a moment he said,

“Well, well, who’d have thought it?” And then, “Better not talk about it. Not to anyone.”

A little later on Superintendent Vyner came up to see his Chief and was had into the study.

“Sorry to interrupt you, sir, but there are one or two points-”

“All right, Vyner, sit down. What is it?”

Vyner sat down, filling the big chair. The light struck sideways on the thick fair hair which was turning grey and the solid bony structure of forehead and chin. His very bright blue eyes had a look between hesitancy and amusement.

“Well, sir, Miss Pennington wasn’t there at the River House this afternoon, and I thought I’d just like to see whether she heard Mrs. Ambrose go out or come in last night. We want to be able to fix the time if we can, so I went to Meadowcroft, found the whole party were at the River House, and went on there.”

“Get anything?”

“Not out of Miss Pennington. But I also saw Mr. Mark Paradine, and he told me he’d called in a private detective.”

Like everyone else to whom this news had been imparted, Colonel Bostock said,

“What!”

“Yes, sir. Did you ever hear of Miss Silver?”

Colonel Bostock said, “God bless my soul! What’s she doing here?”

“You’ve heard about her, sir?”

Colonel Bostock jerked.

“Met young Abbott when he was up for Christmas. Fellow who’s a detective sergeant at the Yard. He’s a cousin of the Abbotts at Huntersgrange. Met him there. He raved about the woman. Funny thing was I’d have bet my boots he wasn’t the sort to rave about anyone. Cocksure young fellow. Cool hand. Brains.”

“Well, sir, she’s done some very remarkable work-I happen to know that. She doesn’t get into the papers, but these things go round. I heard about her first from Superintendent March at Ledlington. He was in on the Poisoned Caterpillars case, and he swears she saved his life.” Vyner laughed. “It’s a queer start, sir-she used to be his governess when he was a kid, and I believe that’s just what she looks like, a little old maid governess. March told me a lot about her. There was the Chinese Shawl business last winter. Then the other day when I was in London I was seeing Detective Inspector Lamb, and he told me about the Vandeleur House murders-that’s where they got that Mrs. Simpson, you remember. Well, he gave Miss Silver the credit for that-fairly handed it to her.”