Patricia Wentworth - Pilgrim’s Rest

Miss Silver had begun to cast off. Frank Abbott said, “Well, that’s Robbins. What about the others?”

March frowned.

“I don’t know,” he said. “The weak point is the initial motive. The only one who can be said to have had one besides Robbins is Miss Freyne.”

Frank Abbott said,

“Oh, no-not in character at all.”

“I agree. But we have to consider her. You see, I think it is quite clear that her disagreement with Clayton was a very serious one. I don’t mean to say that she wasn’t telling the truth about it-I think she was. But however much that disagreement began over an abstract case, I think it was quite impossible that those two people should have discussed it and disagreed over it without having Mabel Robbins in their minds, and this would mean that very passionate and bitter feelings might have been roused up. We don’t of course know whether Miss Freyne already suspected Clayton of having been the girl’s lover, but from her manner I thought so. It seemed to me that Mr. Pilgrim’s subsequent disclosure had not really taken her by surprise.”

Frank nodded.

“Henry was a bit of a lad all right-he’d be bound to be suspected. But you’re wasting time over Lesley-she’s one of the few people in the world who are constitutionally incapable of crime. But go on.”

“Well, apart from that, she could have done it. But it would have had to be planned-perhaps on the spur of the moment after he telephoned. She looks out of the window, sees him coming, and goes to meet him. They go back into Pilgrim’s Rest together. When they are in the dining-room she stabs him. She may have brought the knife with her, or she may have pulled one out of the trophy. It could have been done either way.”

Frank’s eyes were at their iciest, his manner indifferent in the extreme. Miss Silver knew him well enough to be aware that he was angry. She drew her wool through the last loop and laid her hands down upon the completed jumper with a small satisfied smile.

Frank said casually,

“And when do you suggest that she locked the door? And how did she get out of the house when she had locked it? The key was in Henry’s pocket. If Robbins didn’t do the job himself, I take it we accept his statement that the door was locked and the chain up within ten minutes of Henry’s leaving the house.”

March nodded.

“That’s the weak point. Robbins would have had to let her out, or at any rate to lock up after her.” He smiled. “I am not seriously accusing Miss Freyne, you know-I agree with your estimate of her character. Well, now we come to the other people in the house. Miss Columba. The same general motive as the other relations, the same attachment to house and garden, but by all accounts a very particular attachment to her nephews. I really cannot see her murdering two of them. In the case of Henry Clayton, it is difficult to see any motive at all. This last consideration also applies to Miss Janetta. She is a vain and self-centred person without her sister’s integrity of character. She has just described her brother’s death to me as ‘providential,’ since it prevented him from alienating the property. But I really cannot see why she should have desired the death of Henry Clayton. I remember meeting him when I first came here, and I should say he was the type to be extremely popular with maiden aunts.”

Frank laughed.

“He was the blue-eyed boy all right! He’d a way with him, you know-stole horses where other people couldn’t look over the hedge, and got away with it with a feather in his cap. But he did it once too often.”

March went back to his list.

“Jerome. Well, the only question here to my mind is whether he is subject to fits of insanity. If he is, he could have done it all. I gather that his physical state hasn’t changed very much. It would not require a great deal of strength to stab a man with a sharp knife, to drag his body a short way, or to tip an unsuspecting person out of a window with a very low sill. No one who knew him would suspect him of doing any of these things if he was in his right senses. But the poor chap has had a bad head wound, and Daly tells me he gets what he calls nervous attacks. He says they are apt to come on at night after any exertion or excitement, that he hasn’t ever seen him in one himself, so he has only the nurse’s account to go by. On that, he says, there are no grounds for any suspicion of insanity. She says he has an aggravated form of nightmare, and wakes up very much distressed and dazed, but not at all violent.”

“That is so,” said Miss Silver.

A little surprised at what was quite a dogmatic statement, he turned in her direction.

“I have both heard him and seen him in one of these attacks, Randall. The sounds are in the highest degree alarming. On the occasion on which I heard them they suggested a man violently attacked and violently resisting. There was also at least one scream. I say ‘at least’ because I am under the impression that it was a scream which had awakened me. My room, as you know, is not far from his. I understand now why the rest of the family sleep in the other wing.”

Frank said, “Judy Elliot heard it too.”

“Yes, we both arrived in the corridor at the same time. Captain Pilgrim then appeared on the threshold of his room. His pyjama coat was torn open, he was clutching at the doorposts, and he looked dazed and horrified. I reached him just as Miss Day came out of her room, which is opposite his. He was perfectly gentle, docile, and polite. When Miss Day told him that he had been dreaming again and had disturbed me, he was able to control himself sufficiently to say, ‘So sorry.’ ”

March nodded.

“Miss Day declares that these attacks never occur except in his sleep, and that he is never violent except in the first stage, when he thinks that someone is attacking him and hits out. As soon as he is awake he is only dazed and distressed. The shouting and calling out is a constant feature. It therefore doesn’t seem possible that he should have carried out a methodical murder like that of Henry Clayton, especially when you consider that it probably took place at quite an early hour when the rest of the household were either still awake or not yet fast asleep. Miss Day, for instance, says that she was reading in bed till past midnight, and that she heard nothing. I’ll take her next. She came here at the beginning of December ’43 to nurse Miss Janetta through an attack of influenza, and she stayed on to look after Jerome, who arrived from hospital on the twentieth. Henry Clayton came down for Christmas. She says she never met any of the family until she came here. Clayton was the merest acquaintance. She thought him very charming, but she naturally didn’t see very much of him, as he only came down at week-ends and spent most of his time with Miss Freyne. On the night of his disappearance, she says, she left Jerome listening to the wireless at about a quarter past ten and went and had a bath. She was back in her room by eleven and read till nearly twelve. She didn’t hear the front door shut, she didn’t hear anything. There doesn’t seem to be a shadow of a motive in Clayton’s case, and if she didn’t kill Clayton she didn’t kill Roger. If Roger was murdered, it must have been to prevent the sale of the house and the discovery of the previous crime. In fact I don’t feel able to believe in more than one murderer.”

Frank Abbott said, “I agree.”

March went on.

“I have left Mrs. Robbins to the last. You saw her and heard her statement. I don’t think it’s possible to suspect her. To my mind the thing that stuck out all through was her devotion to ‘Mr. Henry.’ Rather touching, I thought, poor woman. I think it is quite plain she more than suspected that it was Clayton who got her daughter into trouble. And look what she says.”