The Case Of William Smith (12 page)

‘Yes.’

‘Someone who knew Mr. Tattlecombe and did not know Mr. Smith might, in the circumstances, have taken Mr. Smith for Mr. Tattlecombe, but I fail to see how he could have taken Mr. Tattlecombe for Mr. Smith.’

Katharine’s hands were clasped again in her lap. Her words came in a soft hurry.

‘Then — then it couldn’t have been anything, could it? It was stupid of me to think that it could. That’s the worst of this sort of thing — it sets one’s imagination to work.’ She caught at the word and clung to it. ‘I’ve been imagining things — it was just my imagination. I quite see what you mean — it couldn’t have been anything else.’

She put a hand on the arm of her chair as if she was going to rise. A hortatory cough arrested the movement. She felt called to order. Her hand stayed where it was. She had that startled look. Yet there was nothing alarming about the question which followed the cough.

‘At the time of Mr. Tattlecombe’s accident were you already working at the Toy Bazaar?’

‘Oh, no.’

‘How long have you been there?’

‘About six weeks. I came just afterwards. They were short-handed.’

‘You answered an advertisement?’

The waters were getting deep again. Katharine said,

‘No.’

‘You were recommended — perhaps by Mr. William Smith?’

Her colour came too quickly. So did her words.

‘Oh, no — he didn’t know I existed. I just asked — if they wanted anybody.’

‘Had you any previous experience?’ said Miss Silver.

‘No, I hadn’t. I — I needed a job.’

Miss Silver smiled.

‘Pray do not think me very intrusive. I am wondering what took you to Tattlecombe’s Toy Bazaar.’

Katharine felt as if a wave had broken right over her head. It was a moment before she could get enough breath to say,

‘I — I needed a job. I — I just went in and asked.’

Miss Silver said, ‘I see.’

For a moment Katharine felt that the small nondescript-coloured eyes really did see right through her. She felt the kind of panic which comes in dreams when you find yourself naked amongst the clothed. Her hand clenched on the arm of the chair. She got up.

‘Miss Silver, I mustn’t stop. My husband doesn’t know I’ve come to see you. If — if you think there is anything you can do, will you do it?’

Miss Silver got up too. She said in a very quiet and composed manner,

‘What do you think I can do?’

Katharine looked at her.

‘I don’t know. I thought if you could find out — about Emily Salt — ’

Miss Silver met the look.

‘ You would like me to find out that it is Miss Salt who has been attempting your husband’s life. She is an unhinged person who ought to be placed under restraint. It would be a simple and satisfactory solution, would it not? But I cannot undertake to provide this solution. I can only promise that I will do my best to arrive at the truth. And I cannot undertake any case where I am deliberately kept in the dark.’

‘Miss Silver — ’

Her rather stern look softened.

‘You are thinking that you have no reason to trust me. You must decide whether you will or not. Let me quote the late Lord Tennyson — “Oh, trust me all in all, or not at all.” ’

‘Miss Silver — ’

She was met with a sudden disarming smile.

‘There is no reason for you to trust me. Pray do not think that I would urge your confidence, but you must not think that I can accept the half confidence which aims at concealment. You have kept a good deal from me, have you not? I think you know much more about your husband than you have told me. He has lost his memory, but you have not lost yours. You say that he has not changed — that it would be easy for anyone who knew him before he disappeared to recognize him now. What gives you this assurance? You feel no need to press Frank Abbott for the name he has forgotten — to insist that he should go through every friend and acquaintance he has in order to find the evidence which would restore the lost identity of William Smith. Why? Because, I think, you do not need this evidence. I think you know very well who your husband is. If you want my help, come to me again. I shall be glad to do what I can. Go home and think about what I have said.’

Katharine went home feeling rather dazed. She walked all the way because she wanted to think, but the turmoil in her mind was too great. Her thoughts were dashed this way and that by tides of feeling over which she had no control. In the end it all came out to the same thing — she didn’t know what to do.

She went on walking. The air was soft and damp — one of those mild January days which easily turn to fog. She would have been glad of the sharp feel of frost on her face, or a keen wind to buffet her. There was only that mild, gentle air. If she went back to Miss Silver she did not know what might come of it. At the worst there might be publicity, disgrace, things that William would find it hard to forgive. If she held back she might be taking risks with his life.

She came to the flat to find him gone — a note where hers had been:

‘I thought I’d just go over the car. Mr. Tattlecombe said something about giving us Saturday afternoon.’

He came in late for tea, kissed her cheerfully, and went to wash. It wasn’t until he was helping himself to jam that he asked her where she had been. She had wondered whether he would ask, and what she was going to say. But when it happened she knew. She couldn’t lie to William, and she couldn’t shuffle. The answer was as simple as the question. She said,

‘I went to see Miss Silver.’

‘Miss Silver?’

‘Mr. Abbott’s friend — the one whose address he gave you.’

William put jam on his bread — a good deal of jam. Then he said,

‘Oh, her?’ Why did you do that?’

‘Because of what you told me.’

‘Do you mean about my being pushed?’

‘Yes.’

‘It was rum, wasn’t it? This is good jam. Where did you get it?’

‘It’s some I made last summer when I was down in the country.’

‘I thought it didn’t taste like grocer’s jam. Talking about things being rum, that is.’

‘What is?’ Her laugh shook a little. ‘You’re being incoherent. We were talking about jam.’

‘That’s what I meant — your making it last summer, and I didn’t even know that there was any you to make jam, and if I had known I wouldn’t have known you were making it for me, and you wouldn’t either. What were you doing in the country?’

‘I was staying with an aunt.’

‘Where?’

‘At Ledstow.’

He crinkled up his eyes.

‘Ought I to know where Ledstow is?’

‘It’s about seven miles from Ledlington.’

He nodded.

‘I’ve been down to Ledlington on business, just for the day. Rather a nice old market square, but a frightful statue in the middle of it — Sir Albert Something-or-other in marble trousers. What’s this Miss Silver person like?’

She changed colour.

‘Like an elderly governess.’

William passed up his cup.

‘That’s what she used to be. It doesn’t sound as if she’d be much good.’

She ought to have let that go. If she had, perhaps he wouldn’t have thought about any of it again. Something in her wouldn’t let it go. She said,

‘She’s impressive.’

‘How?’

‘Well, she is. She knows things. She knows what you’re telling her, and what you’re keeping back. I didn’t tell her everything, and she knew what I was keeping back.’

William helped himself to more jam.

‘Perhaps that chap Abbott told her. Darling, you’re not eating anything.’

‘I’m not hungry. No, he couldn’t — he didn’t know.’

‘Why aren’t you hungry?’

She smiled at him.

‘Just not.’

‘If he didn’t tell her, how did she know?’

‘She puts things together — things you don’t notice when you’re saying them — you don’t think they’re going to mean anything to anyone else. She puts them together, and she’s got something you didn’t mean to tell her.’

William cut himself another slice of bread.

‘What did you tell her, and what did she get out of it? Darling, you’re pale. What is it?’

‘Nothing. She knew about your being hit over the head. Frank Abbott told her.’

William looked interested.

‘Is that his name? Does she call him Frank?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Must have, or you wouldn’t have known it was his name. I wonder why he told her about me.’

‘He thought she would be interested.’

‘Did you tell her about my being jabbed in the back?’

‘Yes. William, I told her about Emily Salt — about her being queer in the head. I thought perhaps she could find out whether she was more than just queer, and — well, where she was when you were pushed.’

He shook his head.

‘It wouldn’t be any good. Suppose she was out posting a letter — it wouldn’t prove anything. What did Miss Silver say?’

Katharine coloured. The things Miss Silver had said came back vividly — ‘I think you know much more than you have told me’ — ‘Your husband has lost his memory, but you have not lost yours’ — ‘Go home and think about what I have said. ’… Go home and think — she couldn’t stop thinking. Her colour faded. She was pale again as she answered William’s question.

‘She said I hadn’t told her everything. She said she couldn’t take the case unless I did. She told me to go home and think whether I wanted her to take it or not.’

He looked at her and said,

‘What didn’t you tell her?’

She met his look with distress.

‘It isn’t easy. I thought it was fair to tell her about Emily Salt. I don’t know about other people — ’

‘What do you mean by other people?’

Her colour came again.

‘There might be somebody else — I don’t know — I want to be fair — ’

‘Someone who wanted me out of the way?’

‘There might be. I don’t even like to think about it.’

‘Why? I mean, why would anyone want to get rid of me? Unless it was a chap who was fond of you and thought it would be a bright idea to bump me off.’ There was half a laugh in his voice, but it went before the end. His fair brows came together in a frown. ‘Darling, that’s barmy.’

She said, ‘Someone pushed you.’

They sat looking at each other. Then he said slowly,

‘Something else happened this afternoon — at least I found it out this afternoon. I didn’t mean to tell you, but I think I’d better. You know I was going to go over the car. Well, I did, and the near front wheel was loose.’

She echoed the last word, ‘Loose — ’

‘Someone had loosened the studs. They were all right last time I had her out. Someone must have done it.’

‘William!’

He nodded.

‘It’s all right — you needn’t look like that. They all chaff me about the way I go over the car. All the parts being old, you’ve got to be careful. It’s as well I am, because that wheel would just about have got us out into the traffic before it went to glory. It didn’t, so it’s all right. But someone must have been at those studs — ’ He was frowning and intent. ‘Of course it would be easy enough. The place is open most of the time because of Harman keeping his ladders there. Anyone could have slipped in and done the trick.’

Thoughts came and went in Katharine’s mind. They turned into words.

‘Would Emily Salt know how to loosen a wheel?’

‘I shouldn’t think so — she doesn’t look as if she would.’

‘She might.’

William burst out laughing.

‘I should think she would be afraid the car would bite her!’ Then all at once he was serious. ‘I don’t see how it could be Emily. She’s been in bed with a cold ever since Mr. Tattlecombe came home, and the car was all right then. Don’t you remember, Mrs. Salt rang up on Tuesday and said she couldn’t come and see Mr. Tattlecombe because poor Emily was in bed with a temperature, and what a good thing he came home when he did — in case of his getting whatever it was.’

Katharine remembered. She took William’s cup and filled it mechanically.

‘So it couldn’t have been Emily Salt,’ he said.

Katharine knocked on the door of Mr. Tattlecombe’s sitting-room. When he had said ‘Come in!’ she found him in his favourite chair with his leg up and a rug over it. He looked up from a large ledger and a litter of papers.

‘Good morning, Mrs. Smith. What is it?’

She said, ‘I wondered if I could talk to you about something. ’ She thought he looked surprised, and made haste to say, ‘About William.’

Right on that she was reminded in the most ridiculous way of Red Riding Hood in the nursery tale:

‘What big eyes you’ve got, Grandmamma.’

‘The better to see you with, my dear.’

Mr. Tattlecombe’s eyes were like bright blue saucers. He asked her to sit down, and he asked her if anything was wrong. And out it came,

‘I think someone is trying to kill him.’

Mr. Tattlecombe looked dreadfully shocked.

‘My dear Mrs. Smith!’

But he listened whilst she told him about William being hit over the head, about William being jabbed in the back, about the wheel being loosened on his car. When she had finished, he had stopped looking shocked. He said quite deliberately,

‘You’re thinking about Emily Salt, and so am I. But I never heard of her doing anything like that. And she couldn’t have had anything to do with the car — she’s been ill. To say nothing of not knowing the front end from the back.’

‘She really is ill?’ Katharine’s tone was tentative.

Abel nodded.

‘Abby says so. She’d know too — there isn’t much she doesn’t know about sickness. And I should say there’s nothing she don’t know about Emily. She’s lived with her for thirty years. How she’s done it, I don’t know, but there it is, she has. And I don’t think Emily could take her in — not after thirty years. But she’s coming to tea this afternoon — I’ll put it to her. Was that what you wanted?’

‘I’d be very glad if you would. It’s — it’s serious, Mr. Tattlecombe. What I really came to ask you was whether I might have part of the afternoon off. We’ve got to get to the bottom of this, and I’ve got an introduction to someone who I think might be able to help us.’

‘In what way, Mrs. Smith?’

Katharine did her best to explain Miss Silver. The extraordinary thing was that as she did so her own expectation of being helped was strongly increased. She didn’t know whether she was convincing Mr. Tattlecombe, but she was aware that she was convincing herself.

Abel was looking very doubtful.

‘Abby wouldn’t like the police brought into it,’ he said.

Katharine’s colour rose brightly.

‘Miss Silver isn’t connected with the police. She is a private enquiry agent. But if anyone is trying to do murder, the police are much more likely to come into it if the murderer isn’t stopped in time.’

Abel Tattlecombe nodded solemnly. If Emily had been up to tricks, they would have to put a stop to it, and he had always said that she ought to be in a home. He frowned.

‘There’s a thing you haven’t mentioned, but I won’t say I haven’t thought about it since William was struck down after coming to see me. It seems to me it’s a bit too much of a coincidence, me being struck down and William being struck down, and no connection between the two. It’s too similar for me — I don’t seem able to take it in. Seems to me it was one of us was aimed at both times. Seems to me now that it was William. We’d look pretty much about the same coming out into the street at night with the light behind us. But if it was William that was aimed at when I was struck down, then it couldn’t have been Emily Salt that did it.’

‘Why couldn’t it?’

Abel brought his hand down on his knee — the sound one.

‘Because it was the night of the chapel Social and Emily was there. Behaved very oddly too by all accounts. Regularly put out about it, Abby was — said if Emily came, the least she could do was to behave herself and not sit there staring as if she didn’t know what was going on round her and then come to and say something rude. I’ve never known Abby go so far about Emily before — she was right down provoked. And there’s no doubt about it, Emily Salt was at the Social. I don’t say that Emily has got any love for me, nor any reason for it, but I wouldn’t think she’d go so far as to come along here at half-past ten of a wet night to strike me down. And if it was William that was aimed at, what cause would she have to aim at him then? I didn’t alter my will or so much as mention the matter to Abby till I came out of hospital. So, let alone the chapel Social, there wasn’t any reason for her to do it. And what with her being sick in bed, and not knowing one end of a car from the other, I don’t see her meddling with William’s wheel. Why, she won’t so much as touch Abby’s sewing-machine. So I don’t see it could be Emily Salt.’ He nodded several times and looked at Katharine out of those very blue eyes.

After a moment she said,

‘May I have the afternoon off?’

He nodded again.

‘Yes, yes — to be sure. But I don’t see how it’s going to help. I don’t see how it could be Emily.’

Her voice was very low as she said, ‘It might be somebody else — ’

Mr. Tattlecombe gave her a sharp glance. He thought, ‘She’s got someone else in her mind.’ Aloud he said,

‘Someone wanting William out of the way? Jealous perhaps.’ His tone had sharpened too. ‘Jealousy’s a bad thing — works on them till they don’t rightly know what they’re doing. Cruel as the grave, like it says in the Bible. “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked.” ’ He became colloquial again. ‘You’d be surprised the things I’ve known jealous people do. You go and see this detective lady — seems a queer job for a woman, but there’s nothing they don’t do nowadays. But don’t get mixed up with the police if you can help it. And don’t let them go worrying Abby, for she won’t like it, and I don’t see how it could have been Emily Salt.’