Patricia Wentworth - Pilgrim’s Rest

March leaned back.

“Will you be offended if I congratulate you on your imagination? But you know, it won’t do. It’s an enthralling bit of fiction, but I’m a policeman and I’ve got to stick to facts. You haven’t a leg to stand on-you really haven’t. And what’s more, you know you haven’t. The only shred of fact in the whole of that very interesting piece of special pleading is that Robbins went to Jerome Pilgrim’s door and asked to see him. You find this inexplicable, but speaking for myself, I do not expect to follow all the mental processes of a murderer who is about to commit suicide. He may have had some wild idea of confessing, of being helped to get away-I don’t know, and to tell you the honest truth, I don’t much care. He had a strong enough motive for taking Clayton’s life, he had all the opportunity anyone could want, and the whole night in which to clear up after the crime. When you add to this that he was, at least occasionally, in the habit of taking hashish, a drug capable of producing mental derangement with in some cases homicidal tendencies, and, as a climax, that Clayton’s wallet has been found hidden in his room, I think you would have to go very far to find a jury who would not convict him, or anyone who would feel a moment’s uneasiness at their doing so.”

Miss Silver stood with her fingertips resting lightly on the edge of the table. She smiled benignly and said,

“Ah, yes-the wallet-I meant to tell you about that. It is extremely interesting.”

March restrained himself.

“What did you mean to tell me?”

“A very interesting fact, Randall.”

“Well?”

She gave her slight cough.

“In our previous discussion we were upon rather theoretical ground. As you produced the supposition that Robbins had concealed the wallet amongst his papers, I met theory with theory and held back my fact. To tell you the truth, I was doubtful of its reception and hoped to be able to reinforce it. Now that so much else has come out, I see no reason why I should not tell you what I know.”

“I am glad about that. What are you going to tell me?”

“That the wallet was certainly not in that chest of drawers this morning.”

Frank Abbott’s faint sarcastic smile went out. March said,

“What!”

“It was not there when I searched the room this morning.”

“You searched the room this morning?”

“Yes, Randall. I removed all the drawers from the chest, and I searched every drawer. The wallet was not then in any of them, nor was it lodged in the frame where Frank and Sergeant Smith found it this afternoon.”

March looked at her severely.

“You know, you really had no business-”

She gave him a disarming smile.

“I am aware of that, and prepared to hear you say so.”

Frank Abbott’s hand went up to his mouth. He heard her say,

“That of course is why I preferred to hold my fact in reserve.”

March was frowning.

“And now we’ve got it, what does it amount to? Evidence that Robbins concealed the wallet when he knew that the house was to be searched?”

Miss Silver shook her head.

“No, Randall-there was no opportunity after that. You spoke about the search to Captain Pilgrim and sent Judy Elliot for Frank and Sergeant Smith. Robbins was then downstairs. Mrs. Robbins tells me that he heard Judy give her message, and immediately after that the front-door bell rang and he went to answer it. As he crossed the hall he met Captain Pilgrim and asked him whether it was true that the house was to be searched. When he had let Miss Freyne in he came back to the kitchen, where he remained until Miss Columba took him to the morning-room. Before he had any opportunity of getting to his room Frank and Sergeant Smith were there.”

She spoke in a pleasant, reasonable manner, but March’s frown deepened.

“Then he put it there earlier-that’s all. He would most likely be up in his room before lunch. The wallet could have been hidden in the back of the chest then-or after lunch. I can’t pretend to give the exact moment, but there was plenty of time between your search and the official one.”

She bowed her head as if admitting agreement.

“Plenty of time, as you say. And what motive? I cannot find one. Whereas Miss Day’s motive would be very strong. Since it is certain that the wallet had been placed in the chest only a very short time before it was found there, you have, I think, to consider the motive very carefully. You have also to consider why so incriminating a piece of evidence was preserved. I believe that it was Miss Day who kept it, and that she did so with the intention of using it to divert suspicion from herself. If Robbins had been guilty he would have destroyed it long ago.”

March waited until she had finished. Then he said with evident restraint,

“I am sorry, but I simply cannot agree. You have built up an ingenious theory without any evidence to support it. As you know, I have a great respect for your opinion, but you would not expect me to accept it against my own judgment. To my mind there could hardly be a clearer case.”

Miss Silver shook her head slightly.

“Thank you for listening to me so patiently,” she said. “I must not take up any more of your time.”

She went to the door, smiled at Frank Abbott who stood there to open it for her, and was gone.

March went up to see Jerome Pilgrim, and went alone. Miss Silver had not convinced him, but she had disturbed his mind. The suggestion that after three, and possibly four, deaths the person responsible for them had remained unsuspected and was still at large was calculated to plant a thorn, and a very uncomfortable and irritating thorn at that. To vary the simile, he was in the position of a man who does not believe in ghosts, but does not rest easy in a haunted house.

He found himself sitting opposite Jerome and saying,

“I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Not at all. I wanted to see you.”

“I’m afraid this must have been a shock.”

“To us all. It doesn’t seem possible that it was Robbins, and yet I suppose-”

“I can’t see that there’s any doubt about it. But I’m anxious to know what you heard.”

Jerome lifted a hand from the arm of his chair and let it fall again.

“I can’t be sure that I heard anything.”

March looked over his shoulder.

“You’ve two windows looking out that way.”

“Yes.”

“You had the wireless on?”

“Miss Day had turned it on. I wasn’t listening.”

“What was on-music?”

“It was a band programme. I’ve looked it up since. I couldn’t have told you if I hadn’t.”

“That argues an uncommon degree of abstraction, doesn’t it? Were you reading?”

“No. I was-thinking of other things.” After a moment’s hesitation he continued. “As a matter of fact Miss Freyne and I had just become engaged-my mind was entirely taken up with my great good fortune. I’m afraid I was for the time being completely oblivious to what was going on around me. As this is not exactly the moment to give out the engagement, I shall be glad if you will keep it to yourself.”

March said sincerely, “I’m very glad. I can see no reason why it should be mentioned until you wish it.”

“Well, that’s the position-I don’t know whether I heard anything or not. I have an impression that I did, but nothing to swear to.”

“Will you tell me just what happened from the time Miss Freyne left?”

“Certainly. I came up here, found Abbott and Smith had finished and gone upstairs, and sat down where I am now. Miss Day came in in rather a fuss-an excellent nurse but rather inclined to pull on the leading-rein-”

March interrupted him.