When Last I Died (24 page)

"Yes, of course I do, but I thought we said ..."

"Well, on that occasion, your husband was in the house with the boys, and you and Bella were at the inn. Is that correct?"

"Of course it is. You know it is."

"Very well. Now, your husband was hurt by the fall, I presume. Did you nurse him?"

"No. He wouldn't have us put about. He made light of the fall."

"I see. I obtained so little information about this part of the story from Bella's diary that I thought perhaps you might be able to enlarge on it for me."

"But this won't help to get the wicked woman hanged!"

"I'm afraid not, no. You see, the diary mentions the fall, and then Bella announces that she went to the house to see whether she could discover any explanation of it, but, most tantalisingly, she leaves out any account of this visit and merely reports, the next day, that your husband had decided to give up the house as too dangerous. He wasn't in the house when he made that decision, was he?"

"I can't remember whether he was or not."

"I deduced he could not have been, because she goes on, after a mention of other matters, to state that three gentlemen and two ladies interested in psychical research came to the house and asked to be shown over it. She then states that, as she felt sure your husband 'would have wished it'—indicating that he was not able to be consulted on the matter—she herself showed them over the house. You, I suppose, Mrs. Turney, would have been with your husband at the inn?"

"I suppose so. Yes, of course. But I feel so dim and hazy. You see, poor Tom being killed so soon after ..."

"Quite so. Yes, I see. So Bella had the house to herself except for those strangers?"

"Well, yes, she would have had, except for the boys, wouldn't she?"

"Well that's the point. Were the boys there then?"

"Well, unless she'd murdered them by that time."

"But she hadn't. You see, if, as we think, the boys pushed Mr. Turney out of the window—as we have agreed they must have done, haven't we? ..."

"Yes, I suppose we have, but ..."

"And if, when these ladies and gentlemen came to see the haunted house, they had no manifestations of any kind ..."

"Didn't they?"

"Apparently they did not. Well, what does that tell us about the boys?"

"But ..."

"I know. They couldn't have starved to death in two days. In fact, they were alive when Bella was arrested."

"I don't know what you're trying to get me to say," said Muriel. "I can't explain it, if that's what you mean. Either these people didn't come, or else Bella was lying. I don't see why we should have to believe what she put down in that diary."

"Curiously enough, neither do I," said Mrs. Bradley. Muriel looked at her. There was fear, unmistakable, on the shallow little face. Mrs. Bradley nodded, slowly and rhythmically, still keeping her eyes fixed on those of her victim. Muriel was like someone in contact with electricity—-writhing, yet unable to drag herself away.

"You know what caused the jury to fail to agree?" said Mrs. Bradley at last.

"Oh, I know everybody on our side blamed me," said Muriel, recovering herself a little. "But, after all, I wasn't any worse than that half-baked sailor. How could you expect he would be believed! You must have known that his boyhood would tell against him. Nobody likes evidence from criminals."

"No, I agree about that. I had weighed that up very carefully, I assure you, before I suggested that he should be sought for to give evidence at all at the trial."

"There's one thing I ought to ask you," said Muriel, abandoning the subject of Larry. "Do I have to go into that awful witness box again? Because I don't believe I can do it."

" Needs must, when the devil drives, I should imagine," said Mrs. Bradley, with brisk, assured unkindness. Muriel looked at her, puzzled and slightly annoyed by these extraordinary tactics.

"What did you mean about love being all on one side?" she enquired in a voice of mingled curiosity and alarm.

"Oh, that!" said Mrs. Bradley. "That brings me back to my discrepancy, I believe. It's like trying to find a mistake in a column of figures. Ten to one you add it up again incorrectly, making the same mistake as you had made before. Have you ever done that?"

"Yes," said Muriel, looking pallid." But what's this all got to do with me?"

"What indeed?" said Mrs. Bradley with an unpleasant leer. "What, indeed? Well, good-bye, Mrs. Turney. I shall hope to see you again before the new trial."

"But you must tell me ... You must tell me what to expect," said Muriel wildly.

"Blessed is he that expecteth nothing," quoted Mrs. Bradley solemnly, "for he shall be gloriously surprised! And I shall be surprised," she added, as though to herself, "if I do not find the last clue I want in the haunted house."

"You are going there again?"

"To-night."

"Alone?"

"Well, I don't suppose there will be any point in taking Bella Foxley's lawyer with me, or the gentleman who led for the prosecution at the trial. Were you, by any chance, offering to come?"

"Me? Oh, I couldn't! As I told you before, my nerves simply wouldn't stand it."

"Yes, you did tell me, and I fully sympathise. You remember by the way, what you said about the
poltergeist
?"

"What—what do you mean?"

"Don't you remember telling me that you were always afraid that something inexplicable would happen in that house? I believe you used the expression 'playing with fire.' Do you believe that something outside human agency can function as a result of human interference with the province of the immaterial?"

"Something from
beyond the veil,
do you mean?" asked Muriel, with a shudder.

"I mean ..."

"Yes, I know what you mean. Well, I must say I'd rather
you
went there now than that
I
did. In fact, I couldn't do it. I really couldn't do it. I should die of fright if I so much as put my foot over the doorstep. After all, you never know what you might be invoking."

"True. Or provoking. That is what I mean. And, of course, three people were murdered there—one quickly, and two very slowly and horribly, weren't they?"

Muriel went so white that Mrs.. Bradley thought she was going to faint or be sick. She looked at her fixedly, until the widow showed signs of recovery.

"I expect I shall get to the house by about eleven to-night," she went on. "I suppose the electric switches are still functioning? Then I shall remain until people turn up to be shown over the house next day. If nobody comes, I shall leave as soon as I have made a thorough exploration of the place."

"Well, I wish you luck," said Muriel tremulously. "Be—be careful, won't you?"

"Very, very careful," said Mrs. Bradley, with her horrid cackle. "By the way," she added, "I have advised Bella to remind the court where she was, and what she was doing whilst those boys—whom I pledge myself to avenge!—were starving to death in that cellar."

The caretaker had no authority to admit Mrs. Bradley to the house, but made no objection to doing so.

"Come to see how them there old ghosties be getting on, like, I do suppose!" he said, with jocular intent.

"Exactly so," replied Mrs. Bradley solemnly. "And now, I want you to let me have this key until to-morrow. Will you?"

He scratched his head.

"I take it to be Miss Foxley, her's still the owner?" he said cautiously. "Although they do have her still in gaol?"

"Certainly she is. Who else?"

"Why, nobody. Think they'm going to hang her?"

"Who can say? The gentleman who defended her told me afterwards how well you gave your evidence."

He looked pleased, but observed anxiously :

"Ah, but, you see, I never told all I knowed."

"How was that?"

"Well, they didn't ask me, see? And they do take ee up so sharp if so be you answers out of your turn."

"Yes, that is perfectly true. I suppose you could have told them that Mrs. Turney visited the house alone, after the death of her husband and after Miss Foxley was arrested."

The old man gaped at her.

"That do be right, that do," he declared. "But how did ee know?"

"You told me so yourself."

"Oh, so that's it, is it? There isn't nothing in it, after all."

"I wouldn't say that. If you look out, a little later on, you may see her visit the house again. Take no notice. She has her key."

"Ah, yes, so she have. Her and Mr. Turney and Miss Foxley, all of 'em had keys. But I should have thought Miss Foxley might have collected of 'em up when she bought the house for herself."

"Well, I don't think she did. So don't worry Mrs. Turney when she comes, if you happen to see her. She has her reasons for visiting the house again, and as they are connected with the murder, I don't suppose she'll want to be disturbed."

"I know how to respect folks' miseries," replied the ancient man. He shuffled back to his cottage, and Mrs. Bradley went to call upon Miss Biddle.

"I've come with an extraordinary request," she said. "I want you to let me remain here, more or less in hiding, until about seven to-night. Will you?"

"Why, of course," replied her friend. "And I suppose I mustn't ask why, so I shan't put out even the littlest tiny feeler."

"You shall know all before morning, if you wish," said Mrs. Bradley. "Now, where can I hire a slow-witted, heavy, mild, obedient horse? And I want to borrow an iron well-cover, the heavier the better."

"Well, it had better be Mr. Carter for the horse. I expect he'd let you hire Pharaoh. As for the well-cover, you can have mine, but you'll have to let me help you lift it if you want to take it away. Oh, dear, how you excite my curiosity! But I ought not to speak of that now!"

"What kind of man is Mr. Carter?" asked Mrs. Bradley.

"Well, he's very lame, poor man, since his accident, but if you wanted someone to help you in any way, you couldn't do better than to have young Bob, his eldest son. Look here, let me do the arranging for you. I know the family quite well."

So Mrs. Bradley explained what had to be done, and, as it was obviously cruel not to take Miss Biddle completely into her confidence, she told her everything.

By five o'clock, the plan had been completed and partly tested. Young Bob proved to be an intelligent, grinning lad, dependable, however, and very much interested in the game that Mrs. Bradley proposed to play.

"Won't be the first time there's been ghost-faking round this house," he observed, when Mrs. Bradley had rehearsed him in his duties. "But I've never heard tell before of having the bobbies out to arrest a ghost!"

By seven o'clock Mrs. Bradley was in her chosen position in the attic which commanded the approach to the house from the road. She had had the forethought to borrow a cushion or two from Miss Biddle's house, and had brought her knitting, so that she could recline in comfort and occupy herself during her vigil. She had no idea how long this would be likely to last. She had returned from Muriel's lodgings by car, driven very fast by George, who thus obtained one of his rare treats, for Mrs. Bradley's preference was usually for a more leisurely progress.

Muriel would probably come by train, and, at the earliest, could scarcely arrive at the haunted house before eight, for the railway journey was across country, and involved three changes. The connections, too, at the exchange stations were poor. Mrs. Bradley did not expect her to approach the house before dusk, even if she got to the village earlier than that.

It was dark, however, before Muriel came, and Mrs. Bradley had to retire to her vantage point, the attic cupboard in which she believed Cousin Tom used to lock up the boys when they were not wanted in the cellar.

At about half-past ten she heard the slam of the front door. She had heard no footsteps on the path, and no sound of a latch-key in the door. She listened intently, but Muriel must have gone straight into one of the downstair rooms, or remained in the hall, for she could not hear her walking about or mounting the stairs.

She had put away her knitting and had taken out of the capacious pocket of her skirt a small harmonica. Quietly she pushed back the door of the attic cupboard, and played a few soft notes.

Like faery music, they seemed to float all over the empty house. She stopped, and listened again. Nothing was to be heard for a full minute, and then a sound of footsteps below caused her to put the instrument again to her beaky little mouth and play another series of disconnected notes.

This time Muriel's reaction was more definite. She began to run up the stairs, and as she ran she called out :

"Are you there, Mrs. Bradley? Are you there?"

For answer, Mrs. Bradley blew a long discordant confusion of notes from the harmonica, a pre-arranged signal for her friends, the inspector and the sergeant, who had been in hiding in the scullery. Taking their cue, the police officers began to hurl furniture and pots and pans out of the kitchen into the hall.

Muriel ceased to run upstairs. She gave a strange, loud yelp of terror, and then shouted :

"Mrs. Bradley! Please don't do it! I'm frightened. And, listen! I want to speak to you."

Mrs. Bradley waited until the din below had ceased, and then blew on the harmonica again. The noises broke out worse than before; upon this, and, under cover of the really appalling sounds, she raced down the back staircase and then slipped out through the scullery as soon as it was safe to negotiate the array of furniture which was now piled up outside the kitchen.

She made her way to the front of the house, walking briskly on the gravel path, and opened the front door of the now almost eerily silent building. At that, Muriel came flying down the stairs to meet her.

"Oh!" she cried. "I'm glad to see you! Oh, I'm thankful to see you! This house!
It's come awake at last!
"

"Whatever do you mean?" asked Mrs. Bradley. Muriel did not answer until she had groped for and discovered the main switch. Then she put on the lights and both of them looked at the wreckage.

" Not the
poltergeist?
" said Mrs. Bradley incredulously.