Patricia Wentworth - Pilgrim’s Rest

“What do you mean by ‘in rather a fuss’?”

Jerome laughed.

“She thought I’d been doing too much, scolded me about it, and ordered me to rest. She switched on the wireless and went off to get my tea.”

“Did she come back again?”

“Yes. She was here when Robbins came to the door.”

“Did you know it was Robbins?”

“Yes-I heard his voice.”

“Did you hear what he said?”

“Only that he wanted to see me. I wish now-” He broke off, frowning. “He was upset about the search, you know. We met in the hall when he was going to let Miss Freyne in, and he asked me about it then. I thought he would just be wanting to harp on it, and I wasn’t feeling like a wrangle, so I let Lona send him away.”

“You didn’t hear what she said to him?”

“No, just their voices. She went out of the room and shut the door.”

“How long were they talking? Have you any idea?”

“I don’t know that I have-I wasn’t really attending. I do remember a vague impression that Robbins was making rather a song and dance about it.”

“You thought it was Robbins who was doing the talking?”

“I had that impression. Look here, why not ask Miss Day about it? She’ll know.”

March nodded.

“Oh, yes. I just wanted your side of it. What happened next? Did Miss Day come back?”

“Almost at once.”

“Did she stay?”

“No-just said Robbins wanted to see me and she’d told him he couldn’t. Then she went off to get my tea.”

“And how long was she away that time?”

Jerome smiled disarmingly.

“I’m afraid I have no idea. That was where I rather lost myself.”

“When Miss Day did come back, did she seem just as usual?”

“No-she was upset and trying to hide it. I could see at once that something had happened. She brought in my tray and set it down, and I said, ‘What’s the matter?’ She went over and turned off the wireless and said, ‘It’s no good- you’ll have to know.’ I said, ‘What is it?’ and she told me Robbins had committed suicide.”

“She was upset?”

“Who wouldn’t be? He’d just been speaking to her. I suppose it means he did Henry in, but I don’t seem able to believe it.”

March leaned forward.

“Look here, Pilgrim, will you give me a straight answer? Clayton was, I gather, a philanderer. Did you ever suspect that he took an interest in Miss Day?”

“I should have said he hardly knew her.”

“That sort of thing isn’t always a matter of time. The fact is, a letter has turned up-lodged in the chimney of the room Clayton used to occupy-the one Miss Silver has now. An attempt had been made to burn it, but the draught had carried it up the chimney. Miss Silver suggests that it was written by Miss Day.”

“Surely the writing-”

“I’m afraid not. It’s written in pencil with the sort of clumsy capitals of a child’s copybook-no date, no address, no signature. It says, ‘I must see you just once more to say good-bye. As soon as it is safe. I shall be waiting. I must see you just once more. Burn this.’ ”

Jerome’s shoulder lifted.

“Well, you know, it might be from anyone.”

“So I told her.” March’s tone was dry. “Imagination has its uses, but women have too much of it-they work it to death.”

Jerome gave a short laugh.

“I wonder how many letters of this sort Henry had had in his time. I should say the only novel feature was the attempt to disguise the handwriting. Women are not generally so discreet, especially when they are working up for a final scene.”

“You think it was that?”

“Looks like it.”

There was a moment of silence. Then March said,

“Then you never saw any sign of mutual attraction between Clayton and Miss Day?”

“It never came into my head. Henry had that sort of manner with women-he looked at every girl he met as if he were head over ears in love with her. And of course they fell for it.”

“Do you mean that he looked like that at Miss Day and she fell for it?”

“My dear March, he looked like that at my Aunt Columba-he looked like that at old Mrs. Pell, Pell’s mother, when she wasn’t far short of a hundred-he looked like that at Mrs. Robbins. And they all fell for it. I don’t suppose Lona was any different from the rest, but as to anything serious-as you say, Miss Silver has too much imagination.”

All the same, when March came out of Jerome’s room and saw Judy Elliot at the end of the passage he walked to meet her.

“Will you do something for me, Miss Elliot?”

“Of course.”

“Could we go into your room for a minute?”

They went in. He left the door open, standing just inside where he could see the corridor and the door opening on the back stair.

“I just want to time something. I want to know just how long it would take anyone to run up those stairs, lock Mrs. Robbins’ door, go into the next room as far as the window, and come back again. I want to time you whilst you do all that.”

Judy looked doubtful.

“I think Mrs. Robbins is up there asleep.”

“Well, try the locking business with one of the other doors. You had better go up first and prospect. I want you to know exactly what you are going to do, and to do it as quickly as you can. You don’t need to go into the first room, only open the door just far enough to get the key, then put it in on the outer side and turn it in the lock. After that go into the attic from which Major Pilgrim and Robbins fell, walk across it to the window, stand there whilst you count ten, and then come down as fast as you can. I want you to start from just outside Captain Pilgrim’s room and come back there. Abbott says you’re to be trusted. I’m checking up on something, and I don’t want it talked about.”

Judy gave a little nod.

“I won’t talk.”

“All right. Now go off and have a look at the course!”

When she came back he sent her to the end of the passage.

“Turn when you get there, and I’ll take the time from that.”

A minute later she passed him running lightly, and was out of sight on the stairs. Standing there and listening, he could hear her. But if he hadn’t been listening… He wondered. And if she had taken off her shoes, there wouldn’t have been anything to hear at all. The old builders built well and solidly. Not a stair had creaked, and the walls were thick.

He stood looking at his watch, and heard the light footsteps come again. She was back to where she had started in just two and a half minutes.

As Frank Abbott passed through the hall he was aware of Miss Silver at the morning-room door. She seemed to be emerging, but as soon as she saw him she stepped back. As she continued to hold the door open and looked at him with a smile, he rightly supposed that he was being invited to enter. When he had done so she closed the door and moved away from it.

“I am glad to have seen you. I was coming to ask Superintendent March whether a search of the other rooms was intended.”

The formality amused him. Superintendent March! And she had been calling him Randall under all their noses for the last half hour! He wondered whether it was decorum or disapproval which dictated the change.

He said, “I don’t think so,” and saw her purse her lips. There was no doubt of the disapproval now.

“Frank, it is of the first necessity that Miss Janetta’s room should be searched, and immediately. The Superintendent has seen Miss Day, has he not?”

“Yes, he’s seen her.”

“Will you tell me what passed-what he said to her, and she to him?”

“Well-I don’t know-”

“Was the subject of hashish mentioned? Indeed you must tell me. It is of the first importance.”