Lonesome Road (8 page)

Rachel answered both questions as briefly as possible. She told her about Neusel finding the adders in her bed, and thought how long ago it seemed. Then she told her about being pushed over the cliff.

Except for a single “My dear Miss Treherne!” Miss Silver listened in complete silence. She had ceased to knit. Her hands rested idle on the pale blue wool, and her eyes never left Rachel’s face. At the end she said quickly.

“You are not hurt?”

“No—only bruised.”

“You have been providentially preserved. May I ask you one or two questions? This visit to your old nurse—how many people knew of it?”

Rachel lifted the hand on her knee and let it fall again.

“Everyone. You see, I go every week.”

“And this Mr. Brandon—did he know?”

Rachel felt her color rise.

“Yes, he knew. Lately he has been walking back with me. I have found him waiting when I came out.”

“But he was not waiting for you this evening?”

“I think he came at the usual time. I had left early.”

“Yes? Why did you do that?” The small, nondescript eyes were very keen.

“Nanny said something which upset me.”

“Will you tell me what it was?”

Rachel hesitated. Then she told Miss Silver the story which Ellen had brought home about the woman in the green scarf who bought two live adders in a shrimping-net. But she could not bring herself to repeat all the nonsense old Nanny had talked about Cosmo Frith.

“I see. And what member of your household has a green scarf?”

All the color went out of Rachel’s face.

“My two young cousins, Cherry Wadlow and Caroline Ponsonby. That is what upset me—but it’s quite, quite impossible.”

“And they were both here at the time?”

“Cherry went away this morning.” The restraint she had put upon her voice broke suddenly. “Miss Silver—”

Miss Silver looked at her very kindly.

“My dear Miss Treherne, I do beg that you will not distress yourself. You are very fond of Miss Caroline, are you not?”

Rachel closed her eyes.

“It is quite, quite impossible,” she said in a tone of intense feeling.

Miss Silver picked up her knitting.

“Let us revert to the events of this afternoon. You did not take your clever little dog with you?”

“No. Nanny doesn’t like him, and I’m afraid he doesn’t like her. He sits on the other side of the room and growls. In fact they’re better apart.”

“Ah—a pity. And that would be known too, I suppose. A great pity. He would probably have given you some warning—but it cannot be helped. Miss Treherne, are you sure that you were pushed?”

Rachel lifted steady eyes.

“Quite sure, Miss Silver.”

“Was it a man or a woman who pushed you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Try and think. A man’s hand is larger, harder—there would be more force. Try and remember what sort of a blow it was. Were you struck with a hard impact? Was there much weight behind it? Or was it more of a push? You said that you were pushed.”

A faint shudder passed over Rachel.

“It was a very hard push.”

“So that it might have been a man or a woman.”

“I think so.”

“It wasn’t the kind of blow that a very strong man would strike—Mr. Brandon for instance?”

Rachel began to laugh.

“How do you know that Mr. Brandon is so strong?”

“Only a very strong man could have pulled you up.”

Rachel went on laughing. It was a relief to laugh.

“My dear Miss Silver, if Mr. Brandon had knocked me over the cliff, I should never have had a chance to catch hold of my bush. I should have gone flying right out to sea.”

Miss Silver’s eyes twinkled pleasantly.

“And that is just what I wanted to know,” she said. “It comes to this, you see—the person who pushed you over did not use any very great force. You were taken unawares, and you were thrown off your balance. It may quite easily have been a woman.”

Rachel winced sharply. All the laughter went out of her.

Miss Silver leaned forward.

“I am sorry to pain you, but I am bound to ask these questions. However, for the present I have done. I spent quite a profitable time before coming up to you. I had some conversation with all your relatives. I find that the manner in which people behave to someone whom they consider quite unimportant is often highly illuminating.”

Rachel had no illusions about her family. She quailed a little. She hoped for the best as she said,

“And were you illuminated?”

Miss Silver stabbed her pale blue wool with a yellow needle like a long, thin stick of barley-sugar. She said in a dry little voice,

“Oh, considerably.”

Rachel said, “Well?”

“Each of them has something on his or her mind. With most of them it is, I think, money.”

“Yes?”

“Mrs. Wadlow talks very freely. It does not matter to her whether the person she talks to is a stranger or not. All that matters is that she should be able to talk about her dearest Maurice, and her fears for his health if he should go to Russia, and her hopes that you will make it possible for him to engage in some much safer enterprise in this country. She also talks, but with less feeling, about her daughter, whom she seems to suspect of being financially embarrassed and possibly on the brink of an elopement.”

“Mabel said all that?”

Miss Silver nodded.

“In about twenty minutes—on the sofa—after dinner. I had not much talk with Miss Caroline, but I observed her. She is deeply troubled, and uncertain what she ought to do. Mr. Richard is, of course, in love with her, and her trouble may merely be that the course of true love does not run quite smooth. Are there financial obstacles to their marriage?”

Rachel said, “I don’t know. Richard won’t take anything from me. I helped him with his training, and he has paid me back. I don’t know whether he is in a position to marry or not. Caroline ought to have about three hundred a year, but I think she must have had losses. She’s been doing without things, and I know she sold a ring. I haven’t liked to say anything—she’s sensitive.”

Miss Silver’s needles clicked again.

“Mr. Wadlow has a worried manner. Small things appear important to him. This kind of character is confusing even to the trained observer. Trifles are so much in evidence that one is tempted to assume that there is nothing behind them. This may be the case—or not. I reserve judgment about Mr. Wadlow.”

“And Cosmo?”

“Mr. Frith is a very charming person. I was particularly struck with the fact that he took the trouble to be charming to me.”

Rachel’s heart warmed to Cosmo, all the more because she had felt a little nervous. He didn’t always take the trouble to make himself agreeable to a dull visitor. She said,

“I’m glad you like Cosmo. He’s a bit of a spoilt child, but he has the kindest heart in the world.”

Miss Silver smiled brightly.

“Kind hearts are indeed more than coronets, as dear Lord Tennyson says.”

Rachel felt a wild desire to finish the quotation, but she restrained herself.

“How did you get on with Ella Comperton?” she asked.

“She seems very much interested in slum clearance.”

Rachel laughed.

“She is always very much interested in something. It is never the same thing for very long. All very worthy objects, but she rather does them to death.”

Miss Silver looked up shrewdly.

“She collects for them?”

“Most zealously. Did she collect from you?”

“A mere half-crown. And from you?”

Rachel laughed again.

“I’m afraid I don’t get off with half-a-crown.”

Miss Silver laid down her knitting and produced notebook and pencil from the black satin bag.

“Forgive me, Miss Treherne, but I should be glad to have the name of any society or charitable institution to which you have contributed through Miss Comperton during the past year, together with the amount contributed.”

Rachel bit her lip.

“Miss Silver, I hardly think—”

Miss Silver’s eyes brightened.

“An attempt has been made on your life. I suspect no one—yet. But until I suspect someone it is my business to check up on everyone. If they are innocent, no harm is done. If one of them is guilty—are you a religious woman, Miss Treherne?”

Rachel said, “Yes.”

Miss Silver nodded approvingly.

“Then you will agree with me that the best thing that can happen to anyone who is doing wrong is to be found out. If he is not found out he will do more wrong and earn a heavier punishment. And now—those particulars if you please.”

Rachel gave them.

When Miss Silver reached her own room she sat down on a small upright chair and plunged into thought for the space of about ten minutes. Then she glanced at her own little clock, a loudly ticking contraption of Swiss origin in a wooden case freely decorated with carved edelweiss, which she had placed in the exact center of the mantelpiece, and observing that it was still not quite ten o’clock, rose up and rang the bell.

She was just thinking of ringing it again, when a plump, rosy-faced girl arrived in a hurry.

“Now I wonder,” said Miss Silver, “whether I might speak to Louisa. That is her name, is it not—Miss Treherne’s maid?”

“Oh, yes, miss. But if there’s anything I can do—”

“Not at the moment, thank you. Was it you who unpacked for me?… And your name?… Ivy? Thank you very much, Ivy. Now if you will just ask Louisa to look in for a few moments on her way upstairs. I suppose her room is somewhere near Miss Treherne’s… Oh, the door beyond Miss Treherne’s sitting-room? Then I shall only be taking her a step out of her way.”

When Ivy had departed, Miss Silver retraced her steps. She passed the doors of Rachel Treherne’s bedroom and sitting-room, and then stood listening for a moment before tapping lightly on what she now knew to be Louisa Barnet’s door. Receiving no answer, she turned the handle and went in.

About ten minutes later she was back in her own room saying, “Come in!” to Louisa’s knock. But Louisa was by no means anxious to enter. She remained upon the threshold.

“Were you wanting anything, miss?”

Miss Silver said, “Yes,” and added in a tone of authority,

“Please come in and shut the door.”

Louisa complied ungraciously. Her manner made it plain that it was not her place to wait upon the bedrooms.

Miss Silver indicated a chair at a slight distance from her own.

“Will you sit down. I want to talk to you.”

“It’s getting late, miss.”

“Sit down please. I am a private enquiry agent, and I am here in that capacity. I want to talk to you about your mistress—about the attempts which are being made upon her life.”

Louisa took the chair and sat down upon it. After a moment she said in a stumbling voice,

“Miss Rachel has told you—”

“She told me about a number of attempts, and I would like to go over them with you, because I am sure there is no one who can help me as much as you can.”

Louisa’s eyes dwelt on her. They were dark with feeling.

“If you can help Miss Rachel, I’ll help you. It’s time someone did.”

Miss Silver nodded.

“Very well put. You shall help me, and together we will help Miss Treherne.” She produced a shiny exercisebook. “Now, Louisa—this first attempt—the slippery stairs. Do you remember that?”

Louisa nodded.

“I shan’t never forget it. She might have been killed.”

“Well, Louisa, I don’t want to worry Miss Treherne, but I would like to know who else was in the house, and what rooms they were occupying.”

“Same as they always do. And they was all here, the whole lot of them. Mr. and Mrs. Wadlow, they have Mr. Treherne’s suite on the ground floor because of Miss Mabel having palpitations. Bedroom, dressing-room, bathroom and sitting-room they’ve got, and right underneath Miss Rachel—the same rooms as you might say, only on the ground floor. Then Mr. Frith and Mr. Maurice, they’re in the bachelors’ quarters when they’re here—on the ground floor too, and their own entrance next the garage. Miss Caroline, she has the room opposite Miss Rachel, and Miss Cherry Wadlow next door. And Miss Comperton is next door to you here. And Mr. Richard, he’s got the two over Mr. Frith and Mr. Maurice because of having a lot of office work to do with his architecting.”

Miss Silver nodded.

“And where were all these people when Miss Treherne was washing her dog?”

Louisa tossed her head.

“I know where one of them was,” she said, “for she was coming out of her room as I went by, and that was Miss Caroline Ponsonby. She shut the door quick, but I’ll take my Bible oath I saw her—and she’d been crying too.”

“Did you see anyone else in the neighborhood of the stairs that afternoon?”

“Mr. Richard come up a half hour later, and he was knocking at Miss Caroline’s door wanting her to come out, but she wouldn’t, and maybe she’d her own reasons.”

“You didn’t see anyone else?” inquired Miss Silver.

She got a look.

“No, I didn’t. I’d something else to do than watch the stairs.”

Miss Silver turned a page in the shiny notebook.

“In the matter of the burning curtains—what time of day was it, and who discovered them to be alight?”

“Round about seven o’clock in the evening, and I found them myself. All alight they were and blazing. I come up to put out Miss Rachel’s things, and who should come out of the sitting-room but Miss Caroline and Mr. Richard? And when I went through into the bedroom, there were the curtains all alight and blazing.”

“Very suspicious indeed,” said Miss Silver. “Fortunately Miss Treherne was in no real danger. I am sure you were most prompt.” She turned another leaf. “And now we come to something a good deal more serious—the affair of the chocolates.”

Louisa’s mouth twitched.

“If I hadn’t been here—” she said. Her hand went to her lips. “Miss Rachel that’s so good to them—”

“You were with her when she bought the chocolates?”

“Yes, I was. And so was Miss Caroline. Did she tell you that?”

Miss Silver gazed mildly.

“I do not think so. Now can you tell me about how long the box was in the house before dinner, and where it was during that time?”

“It was in Miss Rachel’s sitting-room from five till half past seven, and that’s when it was got at. Miss Rachel, she was in her bedroom, and the chocolates were in the sitting-room. Anyone could have got at them, and someone did.”

“Do you know who it was, Louisa?”

“I’ve got my own ideas, miss—how can I help having them? But Miss Rachel, she won’t listen to a word. She won’t let herself believe—that’s what it is.”

“Ah, yes, there are none so blind as those who will not see. Well, that is very helpfull.” She turned another page. “We now come to the very curious affair of the snakes.” She gazed with an air of prim intelligence. “What put such an idea into your head, Louisa?”

There was just a moment when nothing happened. Then a faintly startled look touched Louisa Barnet’s eyes, to be immediately displaced by a flash of almost insane anger. She said on a rising note,

“What’s that you said?”

Miss Silver did not raise her voice at all.

“I asked you what made you think of putting those snakes in your mistress’s bed.”

Louisa half got up out of her chair and dropped back again with a hand at her side. She choked and said thickly,

“Me? Why, I’d die for Miss Rachel. She knows it, and you know it!”

“But you put the snakes in her bed, didn’t you? Please don’t think you can lie to me, because I know you did. I can even tell you why. You wanted to make Miss Treherne believe that one of the relations was trying to injure her. You would like to make her believe that it was Miss Caroline, so when you heard that a lot of adders had been found in Mr. Tollage’s hedge you took Miss Caroline’s green scarf out of her room and you went off up in the dusk to see whether you could get hold of one of those snakes. And you had very good luck, because you were able to buy two live ones in a shrimping-net from some boys who didn’t know you. You paid them half-a-crown, and they remembered the green scarf, as you hoped they would. It was very foolish of you to keep the shrimping-net in your room. I found it in the wardrobe, hanging behind your coat. People who are trying to commit murder have to be a great deal more careful than that, Louisa Barnet—if they don’t want to be found out.”

Louisa gave a dreadful gasp. Her head went back against the wall and her eyes stared. For a moment Miss Silver thought that she was going to faint, but she recovered herself. She said in a high, shaking voice,

“You come here prying, and you think you’ve found something out, and you think how clever you’ve been, but it’s not you nor no one else’ll make my Miss Rachel believe I’d harm her! She knows right enough I’d die for her and willing Miss Rachel does! So you’re not so clever after all!”

There was the slightest of taps upon the door, so faint a sound that it was strange to see how it halted Louisa.

Miss Silver said, “Come in,” and the door was opened. It was Rachel Treherne who stood on the threshold in her maize-colored dressing-gown. She stood looking gravely in upon them. Then, as Louisa got to her feet, she came forward and shut the door.

“What is happening?” she said in a cool and quiet voice.

Louisa began to sob.

“What’s brought you here out of your bed, which is where you ought to be? And you’ll only hear lies about me if you listen to her. Are you going to stand there and take a stranger’s word against me that’s loved you these twenty years?”

“What does this mean?” said Rachel. She looked at Miss Silver, and it was Miss Silver who answered.

“It is true that you ought to be in bed. Is it too late to suggest that you go back to your room and allow me to give you an explanation in the morning?”

Rachel shook her head.

“Much too late. There was something I wanted to say to you, but it doesn’t matter. I am afraid I must ask for your explanation now.”

Miss Silver looked at her kindly.

“I would rather have waited, but I see that you must know. Will you not sit down? I will be brief, but I feel obliged to explain myself.”

“Are you going to listen to her lies?” said Louisa roughly.

Rachel rested her hand on the back of the proffered chair.

“I am certainly going to listen,” she said. “You will please not interrupt, Louisa.” She drew her wrap about her and sat down. “Now, Miss Silver.”

Miss Silver sat down too. Louisa put out a hand and took hold of the brass rail at the head of the bed. She was a little behind Rachel and facing Miss Silver, at whom she stared with hard and angry eyes.

Miss Silver addressed herself to Rachel sitting very composed and upright with her hands folded in her lap.

“When you came to see me in London, Miss Treherne, I derived certain very definite impressions from what you told me. I could see that you believed yourself to have been the victim of three murderous attempts, but I did not feel entirely able to take that view myself—not on the evidence you then laid before me. To me it pointed, not necessarily to attempted murder, but rather to the presence in your household of some neurotic person who wished to make you believe that you were in danger, or who was actuated by what, I understand, is now termed exhibitionism. It used to be called showing off.”

“The Lord’s my witness!” Louisa Barnet’s voice shook passionately.

Rachel put up a hand without looking round.

“If you want to stay, Louie, you must be quiet.”

Miss Silver went on as if there had been no interruption.

“It was the second attempt which made me suspect that we had a neurotic to deal with. I do not know why nervously disturbed persons should so commonly set fire to window curtains, but it is quite a constant occurrence. It makes a lot of show and does very little harm. When I discovered from Louisa herself that the fire in this instance occurred at a time when any member of the household would know that it was bound to be discovered by your maid, who would naturally be in attendance to help you dress for dinner—well, if I had needed convincing I should then have been convinced. But I had already made up my mind. I arrived down here to find in Louisa Barnet the very type I was looking for.”

Louisa flung up her hand.

“Miss Rachel—are you going to listen to this?”

“I think we will both listen,” said Rachel.

Miss Silver went on speaking.

“After I had left you, Miss Treherne, I went to Louisa Barnet’s room, and there I found two things which I had expected to find. One of them was a shrimping-net.”

Rachel became so pale that there was no color left in her face at all. She put out a hand is if to ward something off, and said in a whisper,

“Oh, no, no—not Louie!”

“Miss Rachel—”

“It was Louisa Barnet who put the snakes in your bed, Miss Treherne.”

Rachel turned. She moved her chair, and turned in it so that she could see Louisa’s face. She said,

“Did you, Louie?”

Louisa came with a rush and fell at her knees.

“It wasn’t to do you no harm—oh, my dear, it wasn’t! They’ll make you think it was, but it wasn’t. No, she won’t make you think it, because you know my heart. You know—oh, my dear, you know!”

“Why did you do it, Louie?”

Louisa sat back on her heels with the tears running down her face.

“You wouldn’t listen to nothing, and you wouldn’t believe nothing. What could I do?”

“So you put adders in my bed. Get up, Louie, and sit down!” She turned to Miss Silver. “Did she do the other things too?”

“Yes, Miss Treherne, but I do not think she meant you to be hurt. She wanted to frighten you—about your relations, to make you believe they were trying to injure you. She began by writing you anonymous letters. Then she made the stairs slippery, but she was there to warn you not to step on them. She set your curtains on fire, but she put them out again. She made you believe that your chocolates had been poisoned, but I think it was only ammoniated quinine—I found the bottle on the washstand. It is a great pity that you did not have the chocolates analysed, but she was, of course, quite sure that you would not do so.”

“Ammoniated quinine—was that the second thing you found?”

“Yes, Miss Treherne. I had expected it. A very bitter taste, and quite harmless. Louisa did not wish to poison your body—she merely wished to poison your mind. Against your relations. Chiefly, I think, against Miss Caroline, of whom she is jealous.”

There was a silence. Then Rachel said in a mere ghost of a voice,

“Oh, Louie!”

Louisa stood up. She stood up, tall and fierce, and said in a hard even voice,

“You don’t ask me if it’s true.”

“Is it true, Louie?”