The Ivory Dagger (18 page)

I could not have felt justified in keeping such a conversation to myself.’

Miss Silver sat in one of the small armless chairs which the Blue Room provided. It had the low padded seat and back of the Victorian period and was tastefully covered with a cross-stitch pattern which represented wan lilies on a ground of deep ultramarine blue. Together with the other furnishings of this small room, it had passed with the house and had been sedulously preserved by the efforts of Adrian Grey. A pre-Raphaelite influence was discernible. There was even an authentic Morris paper on the walls.

Whilst listening attentively to last night’s experience Frank Abbott could not help being aware of how perfectly his Miss Silver fitted into these surroundings. The chair she had chosen had no doubt been specially designed for the use of ladies addicted to needlework. It afforded support to the back and for the swelling skirt of other days. In fact it resembled very strongly the furniture in Miss Silver’s own flat, which she had inherited from a Victorian great-aunt. He really had to make an effort in order to give his entire attention to the business in hand.

‘It was certainly quite a curious conversation,’ he said. ‘I wish I had been there.’

Miss Silver said,

‘I have repeated it as accurately as possible.’

He nodded.

‘You always do—you’re a marvel at it. What I mean is, here were two people who obviously weren’t coming into the open. In that sort of case it is not only what is said that counts, it is every tone, every inflection, every movement, the twitch of a finger, the flick of an eyelash, the atmosphere in the room, that counts. You have your impression from these things, and if I had been there I would have mine. Then if we pooled them and found they were the same—well, it would still not be evidence, but it would be something a little stronger than we’ve got at present.’

Miss Silver inclined her head. She had cast on the stitches for little Josephine’s third vest, which would complete the set. A pale pink frill about half an inch in depth now showed upon the needles.

Finding that she did not speak, Frank went on.

‘Just let us see what we have got in plain words. Marsham comes into the study at an hour which suggests that he had been waiting about until everyone except Haile had gone to bed. That is the first point. He wanted to see Haile on a matter of urgency, and he wanted to be sure they wouldn’t be interrupted. I think that’s a fair enough inference.’

‘I think so.’

‘Well then, he manoeuvres for position. He doesn’t want to stay on with Haile, but he doesn’t say so. He lets Haile think that he would like to stay on. Obviously he wants to find out whether Haile knows that he was under notice to leave, and why. Whitall may have told his cousin that he was dismissing Marsham for peculation. Haile evidently didn’t believe that commission story, and nor do I. There was something more than that, and he had to find out whether Haile knew about it—either by word of mouth or because there was some evidence which might have come into his possession. So he asked what Haile is going to do about the house and the staff.’

Miss Silver coughed.

‘That is quite a fair summary.’

Frank leaned forward from the arm of the chair on which he was sitting and pitched a log upon the fire. A shower of sparks flew high, and the smell of apple-wood came drifting back into the room.

‘Well, Haile comes across with a good hard punch. Says his cousin told him Marsham had been fleecing him—an expression which Marsham characterizes as derogatory and not at all a suitable way of describing the comparatively harmless if irregular practice of taking commission. You will have noticed how skilfully Marsham’s side of this conversation is conducted. Just the right amount of Lord St. Osbert, just a hint that he had condescended to a mere third baronet, and all the time the most perfect decorum of speech and manner. Is that how it struck you?’

‘You have put it very well.’

‘To continue. Mr. Haile gives Marsham to understand that he doesn’t believe the story about the commission. Says in effect that Whitall must have had some much more serious reason for sacking an excellent butler and a first-class cook.’

Miss Silver stopped knitting for a moment and said with emphasis,

‘She is more than that, Frank—she is quite outstanding. You will not, I know, overlook the importance of this factor. It explains Sir Herbert’s determination to retain the Marshams in his service and makes it credible.’

‘You believe Marsham’s yarn about Sir Herbert’s threatening to put the police on him if he persisted in leaving?’

‘Yes, I think so. You see it would be all in character. Miss Whitaker was an invaluable secretary. We know that he was thwarting her desire to leave him by the employment of threats. I see no reason to suppose that he would scruple to do the same in the case of the Marshams. From what I have learned of his character since I have been in this house, I can believe that he would derive a perverted pleasure from using this kind of restraint. He could not have been unaware of Lila Dryden’s feelings, yet he was determined to marry her. His conduct towards Miss Whitaker was not only cruel but in the worst possible taste. She had been his mistress, and she very properly desired to leave his employment before his marriage to Lila Dryden. He was using threats to induce her to remain. I can readily believe that he would employ the same method of retaining the Marshams’ services.’

Frank regarded her quizzically.

‘In other words you thought Marsham was telling the truth.’

‘With regard to that incident I should be inclined to think so.’

‘But Haile doesn’t seem to have been impressed. Marsham says Whitall threatened that if he left, it would be without a character and with the police on his heels.’

Miss Silver said thoughtfully,

‘I feel convinced that Marsham would not have originated such an expression. It is foreign to his whole manner of talking. I received the very strongest impression that he was repeating what had been actually said to him by Sir Herbert.’

Frank gave a little nod.

‘That’s a point,’ he said. ‘And here’s another one. Haile comes back with, “All on account of a little matter of commission? If I were to hand this story of yours to the police, how far do you suppose it would take you?” And now we come to what might, or might not, be a counter threat. I’ve got it all down as you told it me, and none of it’s evidence. But Marsham says a piece to the effect that quite a number of people in the house might have been about their own private business on the night of the murder, and that he would consider it inadvisable to import the police into the matter—they’ve got nasty suspicious minds, and so forth and so on. Well, if that and what follows doesn’t mean that Marsham has got something on Haile, I’ll eat my hat. The bother is, it might be almost anything—an intrigue with Lady Dryden, a surreptitious raid on the whisky, or half a dozen other things. I don’t suppose Haile has ever gone in for the white flower of a blameless life—to dish up the revered Tennyson’s most hackneyed quotation. But there really isn’t anything you can put your finger on. All it boils down to is, Marsham knows something which Haile would prefer to keep dark, and they agree to part friends and mutually bury the past. If I have them up one at a time and put them through it, I don’t suppose I shall get a thing. Marsham won’t give Haile away because he doesn’t want to be given away himself, and the same goes for Haile. They’ve both got good headpieces and any amount of nerve. Marsham will probably admit to the commission, which is neither here nor there in a murder case, and Haile will say what we know, that his cousin was inclined to be too severe, and that he himself took a more lenient view and didn’t want to be hard on the fellow, who really was a most excellent butler. You see, we shouldn’t get anywhere. And if I tell the Chief all this, he’ll tell me I’ve got high-falutin notions and can’t see what’s under my nose—there are two perfectly obvious suspects in Lila Dryden and Bill Waring, and why don’t I get on with it and arrest them? I’ve had him on the telephone this morning—very British, full of the bulldog spirit, and totally lacking in bonhomie. Says I got my promotion too quick and it’s given me wind in the head—setting up my fancy opinions against my lawful superiors, and so on. I hope he felt better when he had got it off his chest—I didn’t. He can’t get away today, but he’ll be down bright and early tomorrow just to see I don’t make a total mess of things. So if you can pull any rabbits out of the hat before then, I’m your slave for ever.’

Miss Silver coughed reprovingly.

‘My dear Frank!’ she said.

Emerging from the Blue Room a little later, Miss Silver encountered Ray Fortescue. The day was a blowy one, and she was very becomingly and suitably attired in a brown tweed skirt and a soft yellow cardigan and jumper. A scarf which repeated these two colours was tied over her dark curls. Miss Silver approached her with a smile.

‘I see that you are going out. I wondered if I might speak to you for a moment. But I should not wish to detain you if you have an appointment.’

Ray’s colour came up brightly.

‘Oh, no, it doesn’t matter at all. I—I just thought it would be nice to get some Mr. There’s something about this house—I suppose it’s the central heating. It’s very nice of course but—I expect you know what I mean.’

She had a horrid feeling that if the first part of this rather hurried speech declined a little from the ways of truth, the last few words were painfully accurate. Under a kind and candid scrutiny she became convinced that Miss Silver did indeed know exactly what she meant. She was going to meet Bill Waring, and there was no reason why she shouldn’t have said so. She allowed herself to be shepherded into the Blue Room with the consoling reflection that it wouldn’t do Bill any harm to have to wait.

Miss Silver seated herself and took out her knitting. She had observed a slight restlessness which suggested that Miss Fortescue might be in a hurry. On such occasions she found that the gentle regular click of the needles had a soothing influence. Conversations conducted in a hurry were of very little value.

When after a few minutes Ray had not taken a seat, Miss Silver invited her to do so.

‘Pray, my dear, sit down. I will not keep you, but I am really anxious to ask your opinion on a matter to which I have given a good deal of thought.’

The note of mingled frankness and authority carried Ray back to the schoolroom. She dropped into the nearest chair and said in rather a startled voice,

‘What is it?’

Miss Silver pulled on her pale pink ball.

‘It is the matter of the young footman, Frederick. I do not know if you have observed him at all particularly.’

Ray showed frank surprise.

‘Oh, yes. He is a nice boy. His people live in the village. Mary Good was telling Lila about them.’

Miss Silver knitted placidly.

‘Indeed? Now that is just what I was hoping for—a little information about Frederick. Pray proceed.’

A hint of distress came into Ray’s voice.

‘But, Miss Silver, you don’t think he had anything to do with it? I mean, he really is a nice boy—everyone says so. He’s just waiting to be called up, you know. And then he wants to go to one of those vocational places they have now and train for something. He doesn’t want to stay in service—he’s just putting in time. He’s frightfully keen to get on because there’s a girl, and he’s planning to save all he can so that they can get married by the time he’s twenty-one.’

Miss Silver coughed.

‘And did Mary Good tell your cousin that also?’

‘Oh, no, he told me that himself. I asked him what he was going to do when he’d finished with the Army and it all came out. I like boys, you know, and they’ll always talk to me. As a matter of fact it was his being so sure about Lila that broke the ice. He came in here to show me where the telephone was on that very first day and quite burst out with it. I thought he was rather a lamb, because about every other person in the house was going round glooming and believing the worst.’

Miss Silver found these remarks of considerable interest but rather lacking in clarity. In the tone of one who encourages a backward pupil she said,

‘Perhaps you will tell me what Frederick actually said.’

‘I will if I can. I don’t know that I remember exactly…Oh, yes, he sort of burst out like I said—“Miss Lila never did it!’ I’m sure he said that, but I can’t remember the rest of it—something about the police—“They’re thinking she did it, but of course she didn’t.” I’m not sure about that part, because I was in a hurry to get to the telephone.’

She could hardly have given herself away more completely. With Lila under the suspicion of murder, she had been able to devote only a fragmentary attention to the one person who protested her innocence. Her colour flamed. If Miss Silver hadn’t known all about her before, she would certainly do so now. She might just as well have said straight out, ‘I was going to ring up Bill Waring, and I hadn’t room in my head for anything else.’

Miss Silver said, ‘I see—’ Her gaze rested calmly on Ray’s flushed face. ‘And was that all?’

‘Oh, yes—I think so. He went away.’

Miss Silver smiled very kindly indeed.

‘And you rang up Mr. Waring at the Boar. You would naturally be in some concern for him.’

The flush subsided. It didn’t matter what Miss Silver knew. Ray said quite simply,

‘Yes, I was. You see, he asked me to come down here—I told you about that—and I hadn’t seen him. I wanted to see him dreadfully. I didn’t know if he was being arrested or anything. That is why I wasn’t taking much notice of Frederick. Lila was here in the house, and I knew what was happening about her—I mean, I knew she wasn’t being arrested or anything. But I didn’t know about Bill. And I expect you know how it is, when people are out of sight you can’t help thinking of all the things that might be happening to them.’

There was a note of appeal in her voice, and before Miss Silver could make any reply she went on in a kind of soft rush.

‘I keep thinking like that all the time. Sometimes I feel as if it’s too dreadful to happen. And then I feel it must be going to happen just because it is too dreadful. I mean, I can’t really see why they don’t arrest him. He was there, and Lila was there, and I know that neither of them could have done it, but I can’t see why the police should think so, or why they didn’t arrest them straight away. And now I am afraid they are going to. You know, Mary Good lives next door to Inspector Newbury, and Mrs. Newbury is her cousin or something.’

Miss Silver coughed.

‘She has been talking?’

‘Well, not really. She just said that some big man was coming down from Scotland Yard tomorrow—a Chief Detective Inspector, I think. And she kept looking at Lila in a hushed sort of way—you know how people do when they think something horrid is going to happen and they feel sorry for you. I think she is sorry for Lila. She has got rather fond of her, you know.’

Miss Silver inclined her head.

‘Let us now return to Frederick. He is also sorry for your cousin. I would like to know a little more about the attachment you mentioned. Is it a local girl?’

‘Oh, yes. Didn’t I tell you? She is a sort of relation of Mary Good’s. You know how it is in country places, they are all married to each other’s relations or something. This girl’s name is Gloria Good. Her stepfather married an aunt of Frederick’s, and she isn’t very happy at home. Frederick gets worried because he’s afraid she will run away, and she isn’t seventeen yet.’

Miss Silver smiled benignly.

‘He seems to have confided in you to a considerable extent.’

‘Oh, he’s bursting with it, poor lad. Boys will always talk if you let them, and he saw I was interested. People are interesting —don’t you think so? The way their minds work, and the odd kind of things they do.’

Miss Silver had recourse to Alexander Pope for an apt quotation.

‘ “The proper study of mankind is man”.’

Ray looked a little taken aback. She hadn’t been studying Frederick—she had merely listened to him. She said so, and added,

‘He was so worried, poor lamb, or he wouldn’t have—’

Since she did not finish the sentence, Miss Silver prompted gently,

‘He would not have—’

Ray’s colour rose.

‘Well, I was going to say something, but I had better not. It wasn’t anything really—just the sort of thing boys do. I wouldn’t like him to get into trouble.’

Miss Silver coughed gently.

‘He was so worried? He did something that might get him into trouble, but it wasn’t anything serious?’

‘Oh, no.’ Ray sounded distressed. ‘I oughtn’t to have said anything. I thought I had stopped in time, but you’re so quick.’

Miss Silver looked at her gravely.

‘I really think you had better tell me what you mean. If it has nothing to do with the case in which we are both so much interested, I will regard it as a confidence. If on the other hand it has to do with that case, you would be very unwise to withhold it, and you will not expect me to do so.’

‘Oh, but it isn’t anything like that—it isn’t really. I’d better tell you, or you will be imagining all sorts of things. It’s only that Frederick slips out of the house sometimes after he has finished his work and goes down to see Gloria. I know he did it once when they had had a quarrel and he wanted to make it up, and another time when he thought she was going to run away. You won’t say anything, will you? He really was dreadfully upset, because he said Gloria is only a kid and she wouldn’t know how to look after herself. He says his aunt is quite kind and the stepfather isn’t a bad sort, but he and Gloria have rows, and then Frederick has to soothe her down and stop her from doing anything silly.’

Miss Silver gazed abstractedly at little Josephine’s vest, which was now between four and five inches in length.

‘You interest me extremely,’ she said. ‘Since Frederick has been so informative, may I ask whether he mentioned at what time he was in the habit of getting out of the house?’

Ray had a rueful expression.

‘I expect it would be pretty late.’

‘After Marsham had made his rounds?’

‘Well, I expect so.’

‘And Gloria—he could hardly expect to find her up at such an hour.’

Ray coloured high.

‘Oh, Miss Silver, I do feel such a beast, giving the poor child away like this. But I’m sure there wasn’t anything wrong—I’m really sure there wasn’t. He’s just a boy, and frightfully romantic and very fond of her. And there’s an apple tree—he gets into the crotch about a yard away from her window and they talk. The aunt and the stepfather are on the other side of the house, and anyhow nothing wakes them. But there’s no harm in it—or he wouldn’t have told me, would he?’

Miss Silver gave a thoughtful cough.

‘Did Frederick happen to mention whether he was out of this house on the night of the murder?’

The question hit Ray like a blow. Afterwards she couldn’t think why it had been left for Miss Silver to ask it. Her mind had been taken up with Bill, with Lila, with herself, and with the relation in which they stood to each other, and she to each of them. Frederick’s artless tale had remained upon the very surface of her thought. She did not connect it with herself, with Bill, or with Lila. It was like something she had read in a book picked up to pass the time. And then all at once it was real, it linked up. She caught her breath and stammered,

‘No—no—I never thought—he didn’t say—’

Miss Silver’s needles clicked.

‘I was wondering if it was he who left the door to the terrace unfastened,’ she said.