Patricia Wentworth: The Girl in the Cellar

Miss Silver continued to knit. It would take him an hour to go to his rooms and get the bag-at least an hour. It would be much better for him than counting the moments and eating his heart out.

It was just over the hour when Emma Meadows let him in. He certainly looked better, and Miss Silver congratulated herself. Even if there were no other result, the expedition would have been well worth while. He was holding the bag loose and unwrapped. Emma Meadows had barely shut the door upon him before he said, “There’s nothing there-nothing at all. I knew there wasn’t.’

Miss Silver put down the almost finished sweater and held out her hand.

‘May I see?’

He repeated, ‘There’s nothing,’ handed the bag over, and flung himself down in the chair with its back to the window.

Miss Silver took the bag and opened it. She told herself that she expected nothing, but as her hands touched the clasp she knew that she was going to find something. She couldn’t say how she knew it, but she did know it. Yet when she opened the bag it seemed to be quite empty. Jim had taken out the notes and the little change that was left in the purse and put them away. The bag was empty-a black bag with a grey lining, and in the middle an inner compartment divided down the centre, one half grey, and one white kid for a powder-puff. The little purse at the side was quite empty. It had held coppers and silver. Miss Silver remembered that she had seen Anne looking amongst notes and change for something that would tell her who she was, where she came from, and where she was going. There had been a letter between the side purse and the one in the middle. Now there wasn’t anything there at all.

Miss Silver felt an acute disappointment as she let the bag fall into her lap. And then in that very moment she knew that her premonition had been real, for as the bag dropped she was aware of something faint but quite unmistakable.

Jim said impatiently, “There’s nothing there. I’ve looked.’

But Miss Silver picked up the bag again. ‘I am not so sure,’ she said.

She began to turn the bag inside out. There was a little dust and a shred or two of paper. And then, down at the bottom where the side seam ended, there was a little hole. It wasn’t a hole in the stuff. It was just a careless bit of work in a new bag, a fold pressed over and not stitched down. You could have looked in the bag a hundred times and not have seen it, but it was just the place where a little twist of paper might stick and hide itself.

There was a little twist of paper there. Jim got up from his chair and watched while Miss Silver fished for it with one of her knitting-needles and finally brought it out. It was quite a small piece. It had on it two addresses, one stamped and the other written. The stamped address said ‘The Hood Hotel’, Mayville Street, and a telephone number. The written name was in Anne’s handwriting- Miss Anne Forest, Yew Tree Cottage, Swan Eaton, Sussex.

Jim said, ‘How on earth-’ and then stopped.

Miss Silver went on looking at the address. Anne Forest, Yew Tree Cottage, Swan Eaton-That was her name and her address, then. But how did it come to be here in the other girl’s bag? This was the other girl’s bag-the dead girl’s bag- the girl who had been murdered in the empty house. What had Anne’s name and Anne’s address to do with her?

She lifted her eyes very gravely to Jim’s face and said, ‘I think we must ring up the hotel.’

Jim said in a stumbling voice, ‘What does it mean?’

Miss Silver said, ‘It means we have Anne’s name and, I think, her address.’

‘You think that is her name?’

‘I should say so. It looks to me as if the murdered girl was staying in the same hotel, and as if Anne Forest had given her this address.’

‘I don’t see how that could have been.’

‘We cannot expect to see plainly all at once. We shall know more when we have rung up the hotel.’ She crossed over to the writing-table, took up the telephone, and gave the number of the Hood Hotel.

Jim came to stand beside her. He could not hear what was said at the desk of the hotel. There was a running murmur of sound, and every now and then Miss Silver’s voice intervening to ask a question. The questions were what he could have asked himself. It was maddening not to be able to distinguish the answers.

‘You had a Miss Anne Forest staying with you about a fortnight ago?’ That was the first question.

Miss Silver gave him a nod. Yes, they had had a Miss Anne Forest staying there. They still had her luggage. She had gone out and had not returned. They were much concerned, but she had been talking of going to visit friends, and they hadn’t liked to take any action. All the same-

Miss Silver continued, ‘Did you also have a Mrs Fancourt staying in the hotel?’

No, there had been no Mrs Fancourt.

It was a blow. If she had not been staying at the same hotel, how had the two girls met? There was just one more chance. Miss Silver took it. She had not a great deal of hope, but she would ask the question. She asked it. ‘Did you perhaps have a Miss Anne Borrowdale staying with you?’

More to her surprise than she would have been ready to admit, the voice at the other end of the line immediately replied in quite an animated manner.

‘Oh, yes, she was here. And she left on the same day as Miss Forest did. That was one reason why we did not think very seriously about Miss Forest leaving us. She had made friends with Miss Borrowdale, and we took it for granted that they had gone away together. I hope there is nothing wrong?’

Miss Silver replied in a grave voice.

‘I hope not. I am ringing up for Mr Fancourt.’

She put a few more questions, then replaced the receiver and turned round.

‘They were both staying at the Hood.’

‘How? Why?’

‘I do not know. There are several ways that it could have happened. Anne, the one who is dead, was here. Anne, the one who is alive, had landed from America. She had just landed. That would account for her not being missed here. The girl at the hotel said she had been round the world with a friend who had married and had stayed in America. They would have been more concerned if she had not left all her boxes-there were a good many of them. And then the maid who had waited on her had met with an accident and been taken to hospital. They thought it possible that Anne Forest had told her something that would account for her absence. It could happen quite easily. As regards the other Anne, the girl who was killed, she had very little luggage.’

‘I can’t think how she came to be in the hotel at all. I sent her to the Birdstocks to wait until she heard from Lilian.’

Miss Silver was silent for a moment. Then she said, ‘If she was the girl who visited Mrs Birdstock and received your aunt’s letter-and I think she must have been-she was a free agent then. Had she a foreign accent?’

Jim considered.

‘No-not noticeably.’

There were a few minutes’ silence. Then Miss Silver took up the telephone again.

‘I think we should let Inspector Abbott know,’ she said.

Anne felt her head go round and clear. She knew everything now. She had remembered everything. She was thankful for the chair which had been handy. She might have fallen. She had not fallen. The chair held her up. Her head would settle in a moment. Ross didn’t look at her or speak to her. He was ashamed. And the other man had gone to the fire, and stood with his back to her and prodded sausages with a fork.

She remembered everything with astonishing clarity. Coming to the hotel. The chambermaid who came to her room-a pale girl, rather pretty. She remembered what she had for dinner, and that she had been tired and had gone up early to bed, but she had not slept well. It had been a curious night. She couldn’t remember one just like it-rushing images, dreams that came and went, and went and came again. And then the morning-the girl. It was all quite clear in her mind. She came into the dining-room for breakfast and looked for a table, and there over by the window there was a table for two, and there was a girl sitting at it. There was something in her face like a lost kitten. Anne found herself walking towards her. She pulled out the other chair and said, ‘Do you mind if I sit here?’ and the girl’s face had lighted up, ‘Yes, do,’ she said. ‘Oh, do!’