The Ivory Dagger (19 page)

As soon as the first curve in the drive took her safely out of sight of the house Ray started the kind of broken run which can be kept up for quite a long time—three steps running and two walking. It gets you along very fast indeed, without making you too much out of breath. It wouldn’t do Bill any harm to wait, as she had already reflected, but she didn’t want to miss any of their time together. They were going to have a coffee at the Boar. Mrs. Reed made marvellous coffee—at least Bill said she did. If it had been bilgewater, Ray wouldn’t really have cared, only she wasn’t going to arrive all out of breath and have Bill think she had been in a hurry. He probably only wanted to talk about Lila anyhow.

She came out of the drive and ran right into him. No car this time, just Bill on his own large feet. She really did run into him, because he stepped out suddenly from behind the gatepost and she couldn’t help it. She had a bright colour and she was out of breath. He hadn’t any business to lurk behind gateposts and catch her out when they had agreed to meet at the Boar. If he had stayed put, she could have walked the last hundred yards or so and given a satisfactory performance of the girl who always keeps men waiting. And now all she could do after blundering into him was to give a gasp like a fish and say,

‘Miss Silver kept me.’

It was a lamentable business. Any girl of sixteen could have done better than that. At sixteen she could have done better herself. What undermines you is caring, and at sixteen she didn’t give a damn.

With all this going through her mind in rather a horrid flash, she was aware of Bill gripping her by the arm as if he was holding her off or up and frowning with a good deal of intensity. He gripped, he frowned, and said in a short, angry voice,

‘You can’t come to the Boar!’

‘Why can’t I?’

‘That’s why I walked up instead of waiting for you.’

‘What’s the good of saying “That’s why”, as if you had told me something when you haven’t?’

‘But I have. You can’t come to the Boar. I told you so.’

Ray stamped her foot on a bit of loose gravel. It hurt, but she had only herself to thank for it, which naturally made her feel angrier with Bill. It was extraordinary what a relief it was to be angry. It took away the frightened feeling which she had about him all the time now.

He was still holding her by the arm. But as the sound of a car came to them from the road, he swung her about and walked her quickly in at the gate and out of sight behind a large evergreen bush. She began to say, ‘What on earth—’ when he dropped her arm and interrupted.

‘You’d better not be seen with me—either here, or at the Boar, or anywhere else. If you had any sense you would have thought of that for yourself. You don’t belong in this mess, and the sooner you get out of it the better. There’s an afternoon train at about two-thirty—you had better catch it and clear out.’

‘I like that—when you asked me to come down!’

‘I know I did, and I’ve been kicking myself ever since. I wasn’t thinking about you, I was thinking about Lila.’

All Ray’s flame died down. She said in a quiet, careful voice,

‘Lila is still here, you know. There’s just as much reason for me to be with her as there was, isn’t there?’

‘If they arrest her, you won’t be able to be with her, and you’d better clear out before it happens or you’ll be getting mixed up with it.’

She said, her voice dragging,

‘Don’t be a fool, Bill. Has anything happened?’

‘Not yet, but it’s going to. I don’t know about Lila, but I’m pretty sure I am going to be arrested before the day is out. It’s all over the village that there’s a big man coming down from Scotland Yard, and that Abbott has had it put across him for not getting on with it and arresting us.’

Ray felt as if she had come a long way and got nowhere. If they arrested Bill, there might be an endless way to go—a lonely, endless way. She had to force her voice to make it sound at all.

‘How do you know?’

‘I heard two girls talking. I was in my room, and they were down in the garden. One of them is a niece of Mrs. Reed’s. She said it was ever so dreadful, wasn’t it—and I didn’t look like a murderer, but you couldn’t always tell, could you? And the other said the piece about a Chief Inspector coming down from Scotland Yard, and she knew that was right because Lizzie Holden told her, and she had it from Mrs. Newbury only she promised she wouldn’t say a word, and she wasn’t telling anyone but me, because she knew I was safe—and so forth and so on.’

‘Mrs. Newbury hasn’t any business to talk.’

‘Of course she hasn’t. And of course she does. If there is any way of stopping a leaky tongue, nobody has ever found it yet.’

‘Well, whatever she says, I don’t suppose she knows very much. And anyhow anything she did say would pile up like a snowball before it got half way round the village.’

He nodded gloomily.

‘That isn’t all. There’s been a mob of reporters milling round, wanting to know all about everything—Lila—me—you—what it feels like to be engaged to a girl and come back from America to find she’s going to marry someone else next week—what it feels like to be a suspect—’

‘They didn’t ask you that!’

‘Not quite. But they’d have liked to, and they got precious near it.’

She thought, ‘It’s the reporters who have really got under his skin.’

He went on in an angry voice.

‘If you had shown up at the Boar they’d have been on to you, and you’d have been torn to bits. I kept on saying, “No statement”, in the best diplomatic manner, and Mrs. Reed helped me to give them the slip. I gather she’s one of the people who think perhaps I didn’t do it, or if I did, he was asking for it and only got what was coming to him. He doesn’t seem to have managed to get himself liked very much down here, and they all seem to be sorry for Lila, but—Oh, Ray, it’s a mess! And you had better clear out—you really had.’ He put his two hands on her shoulders and let them rest there heavily.

Standing like that and looking up at him, her face very clear and pale, she said,

‘Oh, no, Bill. You didn’t really think I would, did you?’

‘I don’t want you mixed up in it.’

‘If you are mixed up in it—and Lila—then I am too.’

‘I don’t want you to be.’

‘You can’t help it. I’m here. And I’m going to stay. And they haven’t arrested you yet anyhow. You know what village gossip is—bits and scraps all well boiled up and passed along, with a new bit added every time anyone can think of something fresh to say. And tomorrow there’ll be quite a new story all about somebody else. After all, Bill, you didn’t kill Herbert Whitall, and somebody else did. Just hold on to that. Somebody killed him, and the police are going to find out who it was. Or if they don’t, Miss Silver will.’

The words came tumbling out. The dragging pain had gone. She was ready to fight again. Colour and courage came back. The face turned up to Bill’s was so warm and glowing that if he had not let go of her and stepped back he would have kissed it. And if he were going to kiss Ray now, it would mean too much to both of them. The time was gone when he could give her a friendly hug and brush her cheek with casual lips. It had gone by. It wouldn’t come again. Something ran between them, quick and strong. He stepped back and said,

‘All right—we pin our faith on Miss Silver. But she’ll have to be quick about it. I don’t see the police working overtime to get me out of a hole. It looks as if they were all set in the opposite direction.’

‘Like us,’ said Ray firmly. ‘We’re going down to the Boar to get that coffee.’

‘Oh, no, we’re not.’

She stamped again, but this time it was on soft earth.

‘Do you want me to go down there by myself? I will if you won’t come with me!’

‘The place is full of reporters.’

‘Do you suppose I care? I want that coffee, and I’m going down to the Boar to get it! And if you don’t come with me, I’ll talk to the reporters and say anything that comes into my head—anecdotes of your youth—how you made seventy-five not out in a village cricket match—how you jumped in off the pier at Brighton to save a child—’

‘I never did such a thing in my life!’

She laughed.

‘But I can say you did, and the more you say you didn’t, the more they’ll only think you are being modest. I can think up a lot more things like that, and I will if you don’t take me down to the Boar and give me that coffee.’

‘Ray, don’t be a fool! Don’t you see, if we go down there together—’

She said lightly,

‘Of course I see! They’ll think I’m a girl friend, and they’ll think perhaps it wasn’t so awfully serious about Lila, and that will be all to the good.’

‘Oh, you’re being a smoke-screen? I don’t think I want one.’

Ray began to be afraid she had gone too far. She hadn’t meant to say all that—it just slipped out. She let her voice tremble.

‘Oh, Bill—’

‘Well, I don’t.’

‘Bill, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it that way.’

‘And now you are trying to get round me.’

‘Of course I am. And I really do want that coffee. Oh, Bill, don’t quarrel—I do hate it so!’

She slipped a hand inside his arm. There was an odd moment of emotion. So little time to quarrel in. Perhaps no time to make it up. He said in a forced, jerky voice,

‘All right, let’s come.’

Miss Silver remained in the Blue Room. She was considering what she would do next. An interview with Frederick? If she rang the bell in this room, he would answer it. But she would rather choose a more natural opportunity. She had no wish to startle him or to increase his obvious nervousness. Since this room appeared to be his charge, he would probably come in presently in order to attend to the fire. She decided to remain where she was and see what would happen.

It was a little later that the telephone bell rang. It was not, of course, her business to answer it, but since she was there on the spot, she did so. Frank Abbott’s voice said, ‘Hullo!’

‘Miss Silver speaking.’

‘I’m just off to meet the Chief. This is to let you know that I asked Newbury the question you suggested, and he says yes, the sister has a bicycle. He noticed it when he was there. That’s all. Goodbye. Love to the Chief, I suppose?’

He had rung off before Miss Silver could reprove this impertinence. The whole encounter had passed so quickly that it was over by the time Marsham had reached the extension in his pantry and lifted the receiver.

With a look of satisfaction Miss Silver resumed her seat. She had felt sure that there would be a bicycle. She took up her knitting, and had made good progress when Frederick came in with a basket of logs. Drilled by Marsham always to shut a door behind him, he did so now, and knelt down before the hearth to make up the fire. Miss Silver was struck afresh by his pallor. Either the boy was ill, or he had something on his mind. The something on his mind might be Gloria Good, or it might not. It might be something a great deal more serious.

Sitting to one side of the hearth, she had a good view of Frederick’s profile. Now, as she addressed him, he turned towards her.

‘You have not been here very long, have you?’

‘No, miss.’

She coughed gently.

‘This is a very disturbing and terrible thing to have happened in a house. It must have upset you very much.’

The hand in which he was balancing a log of wood shook perceptibly. The log slipped and fell clattering upon the andirons. Since no other answer appeared to be necessary, Miss Silver continued.

‘I can see that it has upset you. But you must not let it weigh upon you too much. All this will pass—for you. There are others who may be more sadly and more permanently affected. It will be a terrible thing if any suspicion should continue to rest upon Miss Lila Dryden.’

A distressed flush came up into Frederick’s face. The words which he had used to Ray Fortescue sprang to his lips.

‘She never did it!’

The atmosphere of friendliness which emanated from Miss Silver had gained her many confidences in the past. It was neither calculated nor insincere, but the natural outcome of a deep interest in other people’s problems and a warm desire to help them. She felt a true concern for Frederick. She said in her kindest voice,

‘I do not think that anyone who knows her would believe her capable of violence.’

‘Oh, no, miss—they wouldn’t! That’s what I said to—to— somebody—only they didn’t see it that way.’

‘You were talking about it to a friend?’

‘Well, I was, miss. When a thing is weighing on you like, it seems as if you’ve got to talk about it to someone—only she didn’t see it that way.’

Miss Silver smiled.

‘It was a girl then. Perhaps she did not know Miss Lila.’

‘Well, not to say know, miss. She seen her of course. We’ve been going together ever since we were kids. She works for Mrs. Considine, and what I say is, she did ought to stay on there till she’s a bit older.

‘She’s only sixteen, and Mrs. Considine’s learning her to cook lovely.’

‘And that will be so very useful when she has a home of her own.’

‘That’s what I was thinking,’ said Frederick artlessly. ‘But Gloria wants to go into a shop in Emsworth, and I don’t like it for her—not winter evenings, with that long road back in the dark, and you can’t always get on a bus just when all the shops come out.’

Miss Silver said in an indulgent tone,

‘I should not say too much against it if I were you, Frederick. Girls like to have their own way, you know, and it is a pity for a discussion to become a quarrel.’

He looked worried.

‘That’s right—we had ever such a quarrel about it Saturday.’

Miss Silver continued to knit. She gazed with interest at Frederick and said,

‘A quarrel should never be allowed to go on. I hope you were able to make it up without delay.’

The colour rushed up under his pale skin. He turned his head away and fumbled with the wood.

‘Oh, we made it up all right,’ he said.

‘On the Saturday night?’ said Miss Silver.

There was a horrid pause. She repeated her question.

‘On Saturday night, Frederick?’

‘Oh, miss!’ The words came out with a gulp. Miss Silver said with gentle authority,

‘You slipped out of the house and went down to see her and make it up, did you not? When the house was quiet and you thought everyone had gone to bed? Pray do not be so much alarmed, my dear boy. You were breaking a rule, but I would not readily believe that you have done anything that is really wrong. I am sure that you only wanted to make it up with Gloria, but I think when you were coming, or going, that you may have seen or noticed something which is weighing upon you, and which you should not now keep to yourself.’

Frederick stared with bolting eyes. Sweat broke out upon him. From his wet and sticky hands a log dropped unregarded upon the hearth-rug. Miss Silver’s mild gaze appeared to him in the terrifying aspect of a searchlight. That stealthy passage from his room, the even more stealthy return, and all the horror that lay between, were most startlingly revealed by it. In a moment the thing which no one knew—that he hardly dared to think about—the thing that came walking into his dreams to wake him drenched with fear, would be trumpeted aloud. In the next moment, here in this room, he would have to hear the words against which he stopped his ears in the night, cramming the blankets over his head and cowering down in his bed, shaking with terror as he was shaking now.

Miss Silver laid down her knitting and leaned forward to put a hand on his arm.

‘My poor boy! Pray do not be so much distressed. No one is going to harm you, and you can harm no one who is innocent.’ The kindness which flowed from her completed the overthrow of Frederick’s self-control. He broke into tears and stammered between sobs.

‘That Miss Lila—she never done it—she’s the innocent one— she wouldn’t harm anyone—not for the world she wouldn’t. I did ought to have said so before—it didn’t seem as if I could. It wasn’t just getting into trouble with Mr. Marsham—though I’d have done that all right, sneaking out in the night, and he’d have thought worse about it than what it was. There wasn’t any harm in it, miss—I’ll take my Bible oath there wasn’t—only to see Gloria and make it up.’

The words came out between choking gulps. There were tears and rending sniffs, there was a hasty fumbling for a handkerchief which could not be found. Always equal to the occasion, Miss Silver produced a clean one of her own, neatly folded and of a most sensible size. Under its ministrations and her steadying air of calm the sobs lessened in violence and the words with which they were interspersed became more coherent.

When her experience informed her that a suitable moment had arrived she said briskly,

‘And now suppose you tell me all about it.’