Patricia Wentworth: Miss Silver Comes To Stay

“And how in the world did you know that?”

She answered very composedly,

“Gladys Luker was off duty and went out on the same bus. She had been made very unhappy by Allan Grover’s infatuation for Mrs. Welby, and she followed her to see whether it was her intention to visit the office in which he was employed.”

He made a mock gesture of despair.

“How can a poor policeman compete? You can take the village lid off and see how the wheels are going round. Gladys and Allan are people to you. You know their relations to the ninth or tenth degree, where I don’t even know that they exist.”

She gave him a deprecating smile.

“You are falling into Frank Abbott’s trick of exaggeration. I am only trying to convey to you how very small and slight were my grounds for suspicion when I decided to ask Allan Grover if he would come and see me. I could not have anticipated what he had to disclose, but it was village talk that he haunted the neighbourhood of the Gate House, and I thought it just possible that he might have seen or heard something of interest either on the Wednesday or the Saturday night.”

She folded little Josephine’s jacket neatly and put it away in her knitting-bag.

“Well, Randal, I do not think there is anything more that I can tell you. As soon as I heard what Allan had to say I rang you up. I suppose there can be no doubt that Mr. Holderness went to the Gate House on Saturday night with every intention of silencing the woman who had it in her power to implicate him in James Lessiter’s murder. She had already shown him plainly that she intended to make a profit out of what she knew. I am constantly amazed at the criminal folly of the amateur blackmailer. It does not seem to occur to them that the course on which they have embarked is not only unprincipled but extremely dangerous, and that where the crime in question is murder their attempt is only too likely to lead to a second fatality. I do not suppose that Mrs. Welby gave a thought to the danger she was inviting. Mr. Holderness was evidently in the habit of visiting her. When he arrived on Saturday evening she received him as usual. She made coffee-”

March interrupted her.

“The fact that there was only the one cup on the tray is accounted for. His explanation is that he never took coffee, though she always offered it. He said it kept him awake, and added that it did not have the same effect on her. In the circumstances I found that rather grim.”

Miss Silver inclined her head.

“I think he would have brought the sleeping tablets with him, probably already dissolved. He could easily distract her attention for long enough to give him the opportunity of introducing the mixture into the coffee. We know from Allan Grover that he did not stay for more than twenty minutes. She had drunk the coffee, and was probably already beginning to feel drowsy. He had doubtless made himself very charming, and had promised everything she asked. There was nothing to wait for. He left her and drove home.”

“Yes-it would have been like that.” He got to his feet. “There will be quite a lot of ends to tidy up. Drake will be in his element.”

He took both her hands and held them for a moment.

“I am going to Rietta. Don’t tell anyone yet, but I’m going to be the happiest man in the world.”

After all, it was not until a good deal later that Randal March rang the bell at the White Cottage. When he looked at his watch, on Mrs. Voycey’s front doorstep, and found that it was past half past twelve he decided to run out to Lenton and lunch there before trying to see Rietta, who would at this moment be engaged in the homely task of getting the midday meal. He considered that he would certainly be in the way, and that no reasonable chance of seeing her alone would occur until after two.

At a quarter to he had his finger on the bell. Coming to the door, Rietta Cray stood for a moment looking at him. They looked at one another. Then he put his arm round her, took her through to the living-room, and shut the door. They had a great deal to say. Time slipped by whilst it was said. They talked quietly, gravely, soberly, but behind everything, and constantly gaining in strength, there was a deep sense of having come home.

After a little silence Rietta said,

“I don’t think we ought to be engaged.”

Randal laughed.

“I would rather be married.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“What did you mean?”

“I don’t think we ought to be engaged until all this horrid business is over.”

He took her hand and held it.

“My dear, there’ll be the inquest, and, I suppose, three funerals, and then as far as we are concerned there will be no more to say. I agree that we should wait until all that sort of thing is over, if that is what you mean. If, on the other hand, you are suggesting that we should put off our marriage until Melling has stopped talking about the affair, I am not taking any.”

“People will talk.”

“They always have-they do-they always will. It amuses them quite a lot, and it doesn’t really hurt us at all. I shall write to my mother tonight, and you can tell Carr. The village can wait for a week. By the way, I’ve told Miss Silver. She is the soul of discretion. But of course she knew already-I gave myself away half a dozen times.”

She said, “So did I,” and they fell into a brief companionable silence, hands linked, thoughts ranging. His went back to their meeting at the edge of the Common, her face, caught by the headlights, a blanched mask of tragedy. Now, in the daylight, what a change. Her eyes had their calm beauty again. There was bloom, softness, colour. As he watched, it brightened. She said,

“About the Mayhews-”

He burst out laughing.

“How in the world did you get to the Mayhews?”

She looked surprised.

“I was thinking about them. I went up to see Mrs. Mayhew this morning.”

“Why?”

“Mrs. Fallow said she wanted to see me.”

“And why did she want to see you?”

“Well you know, Randal, it really is extraordinary how things get round in a village. She wanted to see me because she thought perhaps you could do something about Cyril.”

“Do you mind saying that again, darling?”

Her lips trembled into a smile.

“I know it sounds funny, but that’s what she said.”

“She wanted to see you because she thought I could do something about Cyril? It doesn’t look to me as if we should have to do very much about giving out our engagement!”

They were both laughing. Rietta said,

“Things do get round.”

“They do! Well-what am I supposed to do about Cyril?”

She was serious again.

“Well, it’s this way. He did come down on Wednesday, and he came because he was desperate for money. And she took some of her husband’s savings and let Cyril have them- she didn’t tell me how much. But the point is this. The wretched boy was in trouble a year ago and was put on probation. He got into bad company, and now one of his old associates is blackmailing him on account of something which didn’t come out at the time.”

“We can soon put a stop to that.”

“What can you do?”

“Get on to the Probation Officer-he’ll see the boy. And you’d better tell Mrs. Mayhew to write and tell him to make a clean breast of everything. He’ll be all right if he does that.”

After a little she said,

“Randal, about that money of James’s-I’d like to tell you what he said about it.”

“What did he say?”

“He showed me the will, like I said in my statement. I said it was nonsense and put it on the fire, but he picked it off. He said if he was making another will, he would probably do the same thing all over again, and that he would rather I had the money than anyone else. And then he asked me what I would do with it, and at first I said I wouldn’t discuss it, but when he said, ‘Well, just as a hypothetical case-’ I told him.”