The Benevent Treasure (17 page)

Inspector Rock made his report to the Chief Constable.

‘On the face of it, sir, it doesn’t look like an accident. To start with — the position of the body, which is shown very clearly in the photographs. She couldn’t possibly have fallen in the position in which she was found, and the position in which she was found doesn’t account for the fractured skull. We ought to know a bit more after the post-mortem, but I think it’s clear enough that she didn’t just fall down those stairs. Miss Olivia Benevent is very bitter against Miss Sayle. She accuses her of murdering Miss Cara in order to succeed to the property.’

‘Does she succeed?’

‘Well, yes, she does. And it is obviously a very sore point. Mr. Derek Burdon informs me that the Miss Benevents’ grandfather came in for a lot of money from his mother, and he settled it, like the rest of the property, first on his son and his male heirs after him, and failing these on daughters and their descendants. The son had only the three daughters, Cara, Candida, and Olivia. If Cara had had children, everything would have gone to them — to the sons first, and then to the daughters in the order of their age. If she didn’t have children, everything went to the next sister, Candida. Miss Sayle is her grand-daughter and only surviving descendant, so she gets the lot.’

‘Miss Olivia Benevent doesn’t get anything?’

‘Some property in Retley and a life-rent of about five hundred a year.’

The Chief Constable had known the Miss Benevents in a distant social way for upwards of twenty years. He had never felt any urge to improve the acquaintance, but it enabled him to form a fairly accurate picture of Miss Olivia’s reactions to being cut out by a great-niece. He was a lively little man, efficient at his job, but with a taste for lighter relaxation than was afforded by the Miss Benevents’ circle. He rode to hounds, competed at point-to-points, and was in demand as a partner at local dances. Since he was under fifty, he considered that he could defer marrying for at least another five years. He raised his eyebrows.

‘A bit rough on Olivia. But murder! What’s the girl like?’

‘Two or three and twenty — nice-looking — quiet. Made a good clear statement, as you see. The maid, Anna, says Miss Cara was very fond of her — it’s in her statement. She says she fetched her because Miss Cara was crying and she thought it would comfort her to see Miss Sayle. Miss Sayle herself says she was very fond of her aunt.’

Major Warrender picked up the typed copy of Miss Olivia Benevent’s statement and frowned at it.

‘She says she spoke to Miss Sayle outside her sister’s door — let me see, that was the night of the Deanery party, wasn’t it? — something about not upsetting her — and that the girl said, “What does it matter when you are as old as that? She will die soon anyhow.” ’ He put the paper down again. ‘Doesn’t seem an awfully likely thing for a girl to say, somehow.’

‘No, sir.’

‘And the maid shilly shallies — doesn’t say she said it, doesn’t say she didn’t say it. Says she can’t say what was said. Looks to me as if she didn’t like to contradict Miss Olivia. And the girl says she was worried about Miss Cara and told Miss Olivia that she thought she was ill. The only thing they are all agreed about is that Miss Olivia struck Miss Sayle. A fairly odd thing to do unless there was something to account for it.’

‘The maid says Miss Olivia couldn’t bear to have anyone remark on Miss Cara not being well.’

Warrender nodded.

‘Eccentric old party,’ he said. ‘Autocrat. Bullied her sister by all accounts. Up against the niece because she couldn’t bully her, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘She’s up against her all right. But Miss Sayle isn’t the only one she’s up against. You haven’t looked at the butler’s statement yet — Joseph Rossi. He is married to the maid Anna, by the way. He came in on rather an odd kind of scene yesterday morning. There was some sort of quarrel between Miss Olivia and the young fellow Derek Burdon whom they call their secretary. She had him into the study immediately after breakfast. Miss Cara was there too. Joseph says he had occasion to come in and see to the fire, but if you ask me, I should say he was eavesdropping. Anyhow he says he heard voices raised. He heard one of the ladies say, “Is this your gratitude?” and just as he was wondering whether he should go away and come back later, Miss Olivia screamed and Miss Cara cried out, “No — no!” He opened the door and saw Miss Cara lying on the floor with Derek Burdon standing over her, and Miss Olivia was saying, “You’ve killed her — you’ve killed her — you’ve killed her!” ’

‘What had he done?’

‘His account of it is that Miss Olivia wanted him and Miss Sayle to make a match of it, but they didn’t see it that way. They are very good friends, but Miss Sayle is engaged to somebody else, and so is he. He told Miss Olivia he was engaged, and that he was planning to get married and go into a garage business. She lost her temper, Miss Cara fainted, and Joseph came in. All quite straightforward, and much more likely than that there was any violence on Burdon’s part. It links up with Miss Olivia striking Miss Sayle, and with what Joseph says further on. Here — down at the bottom of the page.’

‘What — this bit?’

‘Yes, sir. It’s what happened this morning.’

Warrender read aloud: ‘ “I came into the hall, and saw Miss Cara lying at the foot of the stairs. Miss Sayle was down on her knees beside her and Mr. Derek was looking over her shoulder. My wife Anna was sitting on the bottom step. She was crying. Miss Olivia came down the stairs in her dressing-gown. When she got to the bottom she stood looking at Miss Cara, and she said, ‘Which of you killed her?’ ” ’ He broke off and said,

‘Rather given to jumping to conclusions, isn’t she? And a bit free with the temper. I suppose she didn’t push Miss Cara over herself?’

‘Well, sir, she had every reason not to, the property all going past her to Miss Sayle.’

Major Warrender nodded.

‘I suppose so. All the same, dishing out accusations of other people always seems a bit fishy to me.’

He went on reading Joseph’s statement.

Miss silver was enjoying the peaceful hour which follows afternoon tea. Louisa had been recalling a number of those family events which never seem to lose their interest for elderly ladies. Together they had recalled how Fanny’s wilfulness had precipitated her into that disastrous marriage, and moralised over the painful consequences of Roger’s determination to go to China. Louisa had been able to supply some hitherto unknown details in the matter of Millicent’s divorce, and to assure her cousin that there was no truth whatever in the scandalous rumour that poor Henry had committed suicide. Miss Silver knitted and listened. Everything that people did or said was of interest, and Louisa was able to throw quite a fresh light upon both Henry and Millicent, Miss Arnold had just observed that, ‘What the housemaid said was, of course, quite conclusive,’ when the telephone bell rang. Louisa, lifting the receiver, heard Stephen Eversley’s voice. ‘Oh, is that you? Could I speak to Miss Silver?’

‘Of course, my dear boy. I hope there is nothing wrong?’

‘I’m afraid there is. Look here, Cousin Louisa, she does take things on professionally, doesn’t she?’

‘Who — Maud? Oh, yes, she does — but I really don’t know — ’ Miss Silver put down her knitting and came across the room. As she approached the instrument she could distinguish th sound of the man’s voice, and that he seemed to be in something of a hurry.

‘Oh, no!’ said Louisa Arnold in a shocked voice. ‘Oh, yes, of course — but I don’t suppose… Well, perhaps you had better speak to her yourself.’

Rightly judging this to be her cue, Miss Silver took possession of the receiver. As she put it to her ear she heard Stephen Eversley say,

‘I would like to come and see her at once if I can.’

With a faint preliminary cough she said,

‘Miss Silver speaking. Am I right in thinking that you wish to see me?’

‘Yes — yes, please.’

‘Then you had better come round here.’

‘Yes, I’ll come at once.’

She hung up. Louisa was agog.

‘Maud — he says Cara Benevent is dead! Some sort of accident! Do you know, I thought he sounded quite upset! And if he is, that must mean that he is really interested in Candida Sayle!’

When Stephen arrived it was clear that no secret was to be made of this interest. He said they were engaged, and went on, still with that hurry in his voice,

‘Miss Silver — ’

Miss Arnold broke in on a twittering note.

‘My dear boy — what has happened? Poor Cara!’

He would rather have spoken to Miss Silver alone, but this was plainly impossible. Cousin Louisa was overflowing with interest, commiseration, and kindness, and he must endure them with as good a grace as he could muster. He said,

‘I’ve been out all day, going into those plans with Lord Retborough. When I got in, there was a message to ring up Underhill. Burdon answered the call. He told me Miss Cara was dead — some sort of an accident. And he fetched Candida. She said’ — he began to pick his words with care — ‘she said Miss Olivia was very much upset.’

‘Oh, she must be!’ said Louisa Arnold. ‘Oh, poor Olivia! It must be dreadful for her! She did bully Cara, but of course she was devoted to her too! That was why she was in such a state when people were saying that Cara meant to marry Alan Thompson! Of course there couldn’t have been any truth in it, but it would upset her dreadfully all the same!’

Stephen went on with what he had been going to say.

‘Well, she is so much upset now that she says she can’t stay in the house.’

‘My dear!’

‘Not even for a single night.’

‘Oh, my dear Stephen!’

He nodded.

‘Actually, she has gone already.’

‘Gone! Where?’

Miss Silver had not spoken. She stood there quietly and listened. Stephen threw up a hand.

‘It seems that she owns a house in Retley. It’s been let, but the tenants went out a week ago. She has taken Joseph and gone there. Anna is to follow later.’

‘My dear Stephen!’

He spoke directly to Miss Silver.

‘You see how it leaves Candida. She can’t stay there alone with Burdon. I have come to ask if you will go to her.’

Miss Arnold was prompt in hospitality.

‘But she must come here! The room has just been spring-cleaned, and Eliza shall put bottles in the bed.’

He really did feel grateful, and preoccupied as he was, he managed to show it.

‘How frightfully good of you! But she doesn’t feel that she ought to come away. I did say that when you knew we were engaged — you’ve been so kind about everything — but she thinks she ought to be there. You see, she comes in for everything now, and she feels responsible — she says it would look like running away. But she ought to have someone with her — like Miss Silver. Anna may have to go tomorrow, and you know how people talk. If Miss Silver only would, nobody could say a word.’

Miss Silver had picked up her knitting. She said,

‘Certainly, Mr. Eversley. I will just go and pack my things.’

While he was driving her out to Underhill Stephen was a good deal more explicit than he had thought it prudent to be in front of his Cousin Louisa. What she heard from other sources was beyond his control, but Miss Olivia’s monstrous accusation would not reach her through him. With Miss Silver there could be no concealments.

‘She has gone mad of course. I suppose it’s the shock or something, but she actually accuses Candida of Miss Cara’s death. You see, the police don’t think it’s an accident, and Miss Olivia is pretending to believe that Candida is in some way responsible. That is why she won’t stay in the house. And honestly, I’m thankful to feel that she isn’t there. If she is insane enough to think that Candida would harm Miss Cara, she is quite mad enough to be dangerous herself.’ Miss Silver said in a very composed voice, ‘Will you tell me just what happened, Mr. Eversley?’

‘That’s just it — I don’t know — nobody seems to. The maid, Anna, found Miss Cara lying at the foot of the stairs at seven o’clock this morning. The back of her head was injured, and she had been dead for some time. But she was lying on her face. Her own doctor and the police surgeon both say that she couldn’t have moved after an injury like that, and that it couldn’t have been caused by the fall. Miss Olivia is saying that Candida pushed her over the stairs, but quite apart from its being an insanely wicked thing to say, it makes nonsense in the face of the medical evidence. That is really all I know. I gather there had been rows, one with Candida and one with Derek Burdon, but she didn’t want to talk about it on the telephone.’

Miss Silver inclined her head in approval.

‘It is always better to say too little than too much.’

Miss silver had seen Candida Sayle across the drawing-room at the Deanery, her eyes bright, her colour high and pure. She had met her when the Miss Benevents brought her up to be introduced to Louisa Arnold, and she had admired the tone of her voice and her warm response to what Louisa had to say about her grandmother, the earlier Candida after whom she had been named. She took an interest in girls, and she had thought Candida Sayle a very charming one. She saw her now in the black dress which she had worn for Barbara, the bright colour all gone, the eyes with a look of strain that was painful to see. But the breeding held. Her thanks to Miss Silver for coming, her welcome, were all that the most exacting standard could demand.

The comfortable bedroom that had been prepared was next to her own. The bed, Miss Silver was glad to observe, was quite modern, and it was being warmed by two hot water-bottles. A small electric fire had been lighted. Her experience of country houses had not encouraged any great hope of such attentions, and while perfectly ready to do without them in the cause of duty, it was pleasant to find that they had been provided.

The evening passed as such evenings do. There was a meal prepared by Anna. There was conversation, supplied mainly by Miss Silver herself, and by Derek Burdon. Stephen had returned to Retley, Miss Silver applauding the good taste which dictated this course of action. Underhill might now have passed to Candida Sayle, but it was not for him or for her to obtrude that fact. Since Stephen had not been received there as a visitor by the Miss Benevents, both tact and breeding suggested that he should not immediately avail himself of so tragic a change in their circumstances.

Later Miss Silver had an opportunity of talking to Anna Rossi and to Derek Burdon. Both appeared to be more than willing. To Anna, her face swollen and her eyes red with weeping, it was an obvious relief to pour out everything she knew. There was no Miss Olivia there to check her, no Joseph to fix her with the look she so much resented or to say as he so often did, ‘Anna, you talk too much.’ After all, one had been given a tongue to use, and when terrible things happened, what was there to do except to let the tears spill out of your eyes and the words out of your mouth? If you did not weep, if you did not speak, the very heart dried up in you and you might as well be dead. The tears gushed afresh as she imparted these views to the little visiting lady who was so sympathetic, and who had come to take care of Miss Candida.

Derek also obliged with every appearance of frankness. Talking had never presented any difficulties to him, and like so many other people he found Miss Maud Silver quite extraordinarily easy to talk to. She listened, she made sympathetic reply, she maintained an interested and encouraging manner.

The opportunity for a conversation with Candida Sayle came when they went upstairs together at the end of the evening. To Candida it seemed as if the hours of that day had become lengthened out like shadows seen at sunset, until the time before she knew that Miss Cara was dead appeared to be indefinitely removed from this moment when she went with Miss Silver into her room and hoped that she had everything she wanted. Any hostess to any guest — But Miss Silver’s response was not quite that of any guest to any hostess. She laid a hand on Candida’s arm and said in her kindest voice,

‘Oh, yes, indeed. But I am just wondering whether you are too tired to give me the opportunity of talking to you for a little.’

Colour came into Candida’s face. She had a quick realisation that the pressure of her own thoughts was no longer to be endured. With Stephen gone, there was no one to whom she could unburden herself — unless it was to this stranger. She said,

‘No, no, of course not. It was so very good of you to come. I wouldn’t have asked you, but Stephen just did it. He said I couldn’t stay here alone — it would make talk. You see, none of us knew what Aunt Olivia was going to do until she had done it. At least Joseph and Anna must have known, but she kept Anna in her room packing up her things, and she took Joseph with her. It wasn’t until after five o’clock that we knew she had gone. Joseph took the cases down. Then he brought the car round to the side door and picked her up. Anna had been forbidden to say anything until they had gone. I didn’t know what I ought to do. If Aunt Olivia felt she couldn’t stay on in the same house as me, then I was the one who ought to have gone. I tried to get on to Stephen, but he wasn’t back. Derek said he wouldn’t stay if I went. You see, Aunt Olivia was saying all sorts of things about both of us, and there are a lot of valuable things in the house. He said we ought to ring up the police and ask them what to do about it, so we did, and the Inspector said I ought to stay. And then I got on to Stephen, and he said he would ask you to come.’

Miss Silver had seated herself. Candida took the chair on the other side of the fire and leaned forward.

‘Stephen says you know a good deal already — about my aunts, and Alan Thompson, and everything. It all seems to go a long way back.’

Miss Silver had taken up her knitting. A grey stocking depended from the needles. It was the last of the set, and it was nearly finished. She said,

‘It is always difficult to know where things begin. There are causes which lie a very long way back. There are jealousies, resentments, hatreds, which have their roots in the remote past.’

Something in Candida answered this. It was like the string of a musical instrument which trembles in response to a distant note. She said, ‘Yes,’ and found what so many had found, that it was easier to talk to Miss Silver than it was to hold things back. She told her about Barbara, about coming here to stay, about meeting Stephen again — ‘You know, he really did save my life once long ago.’ And so on, through the time of her visit down to the last few days.

Miss Silver sat there and knitted. Sometimes she asked a question, but for the most part she was silent. Inspector Frank Abbott of Scotland Yard, a devoted admirer, has said of her that ‘she knows people’. He has also observed that as far as she is concerned the human race is glass-fronted — ‘She sees right through them.’ But then it is, of course, notorious that he sometimes indulges himself in an extravagant way of speaking. Certainly it was not only Candida’s words which received attention, but every change in her expression, every inflection of her voice, every variation in the manner in which certain names were pronounced were subjected to the same clear scrutiny.

The scene outside Miss Cara’s door after the return from the Deanery party was gone over with the closest interest. Candida spoke quite steadily.

‘Anna says Aunt Olivia won’t ever let anyone talk about Aunt Cara being ill, but I didn’t know that. I really did think she was ill, and I was worried, and I said so. That was when she — struck me.’

Miss Silver had not been unaware of the slight remaining traces of that blow. She said, ‘Dear me!’

Candida went on.

‘She hates me, you know, but even so, I think she must be mad. She has told Inspector Rock that she struck me because I said Aunt Cara was old and would die soon anyhow. She must be mad to say a thing like that, even if she does hate me.’

‘Why should she hate you, my dear?’

‘Because of Underhill and the money. Aunt Cara told me about a dreadful thing she said when her sister Candida died -she was my grandmother, and I was called after her. She died about the same time as their father, and when the lawyer told Aunt Olivia that my grandmother’s children would have everything after Aunt Cara she said that Candida was dead and she hoped her children would die too, and then she would come into her own.’

‘That was a dreadful thing to say.’

‘Aunt Cara cried about it. You know, they looked so much alike, but they weren’t really. Aunt Cara was just a frightened little thing — she had been bullied all her life. But she was kind, and deep down inside her she wanted someone to be fond of. She was dreadfully unhappy about Alan Thompson. You know about him, don’t you?’

Miss Silver might have said a good deal upon this point, but she contented herself with a simple, ‘Yes.’

Candida went on telling her things — Nellie waking up with a cold hand touching her face and something that went crying through the room.

‘And she wouldn’t stay after that. She went in with Anna for the night, and she was off in the morning. But it was only poor Aunt Cara walking in her sleep — I’m sure about that. I asked Anna, but she wouldn’t really say. Sometimes she talks a lot — sometimes she won’t talk at all. When she won’t talk, it’s because there is something she is afraid about. She really is afraid of Aunt Olivia, you know, even after being with her all these years. The last thing she wanted was for Nellie to go, but she was afraid of telling her that the crying thing was just Aunt Cara wandering about in an unhappy dream.’

Miss Silver’s needles moved rhythmically. She wore the dark blue crêpe-de-chine and her bog-oak brooch in the form of a rose with an Irish pearl at its heart. Her small, neat features expressed a high degree of interest. Candida no longer found it possible to think of her as a stranger. She imparted a sense of kindness, security and common sense not often to be found outside the family circle. The frankness of speech which is natural there seemed natural now. The strain which the day had brought was relaxed. It was quite easy to tell her things. She went on.

‘You know, I think the reason Anna was afraid was that she knew Nellie had locked her door, so if Aunt Cara had come in, it must have been by some other way. The walls in the old part of the house are very thick. I think there may be passages, and that Aunt Olivia would be very angry if anyone got to know about them. I know there is one in my room.’

If Miss Silver was startled she did not allow it to appear.

She went on knitting as she enquired,

‘And how do you know that?’

‘Someone came through my room in the middle of the night. I saw a crack of light where the bookcase is. There’s a door there, but I haven’t been able to find out how to open it. When I saw the light I pretended to be asleep — it was rather startling, you know — and someone came through the room and out by the door.’

‘Was it Miss Cara?’

‘I don’t know. Sometimes I think it was, and sometimes I think it couldn’t have been — because of my being so frightened. I was, you know.’

Miss Silver coughed.

‘It was quite a startling occurrence.’

Candida flushed.

‘It was horrid,’ she said. ‘But if it had been Aunt Cara, I don’t think I should have minded like I did. And whoever it was wasn’t sleep-walking. It had a torch.’

Miss Silver looked a mild enquiry.

‘You do not say she.’

Candida’s colour brightened.

‘I thought about its being Joseph, and that made me so angry that I went after it. But I was too late — whoever it was had gone.’

Miss Silver said in a thoughtful voice,

‘Why should anyone who was not sleep-walking have taken the risk of passing through your room?’

‘I wondered if they knew just where the passage would come out. I thought if it was someone who was exploring — ’

Miss Silver inclined her head.

‘Yes, it might have been that way.’

There was a little pause before Candida spoke again.

‘I can’t help wondering about Aunt Cara — whether she was walking in her sleep when she fell. She might have been. You know, I don’t believe she would have been wandering about in the dark by herself if she had known what she was doing. The storm was so loud, and I think she would have been frightened. I did think she might be frightened. That is why I went along to her room.’

‘When was that?’

‘I didn’t look at the time. The wind was coming in those great noisy gusts. I thought Aunt Cara would be frightened, and I went along to her room.’

‘Did you go in?’

‘Not really. I didn’t want to wake her. I just stood there and listened. Of course the wind was too loud for me to hear anything, but I had put on the light at the end of the passage, and I thought if she was awake she would see me standing there. When I was sure that she must be asleep I shut the door and came away.’

Miss Silver said, ‘Sure?’ on an enquiring note. Her eyes were on Candida’s face. She saw a look of trouble cross it. It led her to amplify the question.

‘You were sure then that Miss Cara was asleep. Are you so sure about it now? Can you even be sure that she was in her room when you stood there looking in?’

The hand that was lying in Candida’s lap closed hard upon itself. She was back in the half-lit passage with the cold of the door-sill under her bare feet, and she was looking into a dark room with the drone of the wind in her ears. The room was perfectly dark, the curtains were closely drawn. She couldn’t see the bed, or the big mahogany wardrobe, or the washstand with its marble top. She couldn’t see anything at all. She said in a stumbling voice,

‘No — I’m not — sure — ’

There was a silence. In the end Candida went on.

‘Miss Silver, the Inspector says she wasn’t killed by falling down the stairs.’ A shudder went over her. ‘You see, she was lying on her face, but it was the back of her head — ’ She broke off, struggling for composure. ‘If she didn’t fall on the stairs, where did she fall — and how? He says someone must have moved her.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘There was dust on her slippers, and a cobweb on the tassel of her dressing-gown — I saw Anna brushing it off.’

Miss Silver spoke quickly.

‘She ought not to have done that.’

‘I don’t think she was thinking about what she did. She was crying. I think it was just that she wanted to do something for Aunt Cara. You know, when anything has happened like that, you don’t think. I didn’t myself — not till afterwards. Then, when the Inspector said she must have been moved, I remembered the cobweb and the dust — and I wondered — about the passages — whether she went into them and fell — and got hurt. You see, there are stories. Aunt Olivia told me about its being unlucky to touch the Benevent Treasure. There was James Benevent in the eighteenth century — he was going to sell some of it. They said he was thrown from his horse at his own front door. His head was dreadfully injured and he died. A long time afterwards his grandson, Guy Benevent, was going to take some of the treasure. He was found quite near the house with his head broken. They said it was footpads. I don’t know why Aunt Olivia told me all this, but she did. And when Derek and I were going through some of the old papers — we were supposed to be doing a family history — there was a rhyme: