The Judas Kiss (18 page)

"Then there is a curse on us?"

"I would not say that at all. If there is the influence I suggest it would probably be strongest in the case of the first-born. But if a child born in that way also had an illicit union, and had children, their moral sense might get less and less with each generation. I would rather put it that the child is blameless, but it should be more than ever on its guard to marry honestly and with someone equally clean and honest."

"Thank you," Pearl said slowly. "I think I understand."

"There is something I want to see to," Roger said in a different tone. "Why not stop for a while with Ruth? She can help you more than I can and Penny has been missing you."

"I would love to see her," Pearl replied, with a faint approach to a smile.

"But there is another thing," Roger remembered. "What are we to do about this letter?"

"How do you mean? I thought after you had read it I would burn it."

"That you must not do. There will be an enquiry into the cause of your brother's death. This letter may throw light on it."

"You mean, the whole story, will have to be told?"

"Not necessarily. If the Coroner sees the letter that may be enough. He does not cause pain to others if it can be avoided. The trouble is that at the moment Inspector Grimsby thinks Garnet may have killed Adelaide and destroyed himself in a fit of remorse."

"That is wicked, impossible!" Pearl cried. "He didn't, he couldn't!"

"I agree with you," Roger said gravely, "yet the letter by itself might lend colour to the idea. The fact that his father did not marry Adelaide would not explain his utter abasement and his curious language. We might have to explain what he meant by the whole story. The truth about his own parentage is the clue to his mental distress."

The girl sat silent.

"The letter is yours," Roger went on. "I would do all I could to prevent it being published in any way, but it might be out of our power. You must decide."

Still she made no sign.

"We see how deeply the truth has grieved you and we know its terrible effect on your brother. How did Emerald and Jasper regard it?"

"We must think of Garnie," she sobbed. "No one must imagine such awful things of him. You must do what is right."

"I will. You are a brave girl and I think your secret will be safe."

Pearl opened her bag for another handkerchief. "Oh," she said, "I had forgotten. I was meaning to bring you this before the letter came."

She placed the something on the table. They gazed at it with astonishment.

"The star and the ear-rings!" Ruth said.

"Where did you find them?" Roger asked.

"I did not find them. Adelaide's husband brought them to me last night."

She repeated as exactly as she could all that Gaston Bidaut had said to her in their strange conversation.

"You do not know where he came from or where he went?" Roger asked.

"No. He said he was with friends. He looks different without his beard. Ought I to have done anything?"

"The police might have, though I doubt it. He would probably have been well away before they could have got much of a move on. I think he was very foolish."

"You do not believe his story?" asked Ruth.

"It is quite possibly true. What do you say, Pearl?"

"I believed him," she answered. "He thought having the diamonds would look suspicious, so he gave them to me."

"That is why I say he was foolish. The police are bound to get him, either here or as soon as he reaches home. The diamonds do not prove much one way or the other, except that he was frightened. But it is rather odd, "

"What is?" Ruth enquired, as he paused.

"It has only just occurred to me. They would probably have been his, whether Adelaide gave them to him or not, assuming of course that he was not responsible for her death."

"How so?"

"We are told she made no will. I do not suppose she did. She remained Bidaut's wife although she went off with another man. Bidaut would be her next of kin and so would inherit all her personal belongings."

"But Mr. Michelmore's will, " his wife began.

"He would get nothing under that; but her personal effects, things she owned, things he gave her, would pass to her husband. It may seem ludicrous but unless I am much mistaken that is the law."

"I do not want his diamonds," Pearl said.

"They were his. It is a perfectly valid gift."

"If I had them I would pay the others for their share. And I do not want Garnie's money. Money can be a curse."

"No need to settle anything in a hurry. We must let Grimsby know the diamond chase is over. Now I must be off. Goodbye, little Pearl." He stooped and kissed her. "You have had a very very sad time, but better days will come."

He waved to Ruth and was gone.

ROGER strode briskly across the fields to Torbury. He was not looking for Pender's Pool where Garnet Michelmore's body had been found. There would be no point in that. The bald fact as stated by Chief Inspector Grimsby and confirmed by the letter Pearl had received left little room for doubt that the unhappy curate had destroyed himself. But the question why he had done so was still open to possible discussion.

That it was an act of remorse for having poisoned Adelaide Roger did not for one moment believe. It seemed beyond contradiction that the shock of hearing of his own illegitimacy was the main cause of his untimely end, not entirely surprising in a man of his temperament. Had he discussed the matter with some older, more clear-minded person, the tragedy might have been averted. Being what he was he might have felt impelled to leave the Church, but after a time and a change of scene he could probably have found other useful work to do.

The problem Roger wanted to clear up was whether that was the only cause for what he had done. That he might be subject to mental torture and remorse was all too probable, but a crime for the sake of the money was quite out of character. Adelaide was the only person who knew of his parents' shame (as he would regard it) other than the members of the family. If he silenced her, no one else could become aware of it. Would he destroy her and then do away with himself for that reason? It might be remorse, or it might be all of a set plan. Sacrificing himself for the good name of the parents and their children.

But there might be a reason of a totally different character. He remembered the strange story Garnet had told him about Binnie Howes. Some men might have been indignant at the offer of the girl's charms, some amused, some might have taken advantage of it. The young curate, intent on his spiritual work, had been seriously upset. Had the episode, with its implication of failure in his high purpose, contributed to his mental disturbance?

Roger had given him the best advice he could, but he had heard no more on the matter. Had the temptation been repeated? Had it been yielded to? Were that the case bitter remorse might indeed have followed. There have been many instances where indulgence in wrong-doing has brought swift and direful penitence. Satiated desire followed by self-loathing. The wording of the letter could have such an interpretation. That was the problem he wanted to dispose of.

The only person who could answer the question was Binnie herself. It was not an easy one to ask, but Roger thought if he saw the girl he might be satisfied on the point. He meant to keep his promise to Pearl and do his utmost to prevent the family secret being published, but he wanted to be sure the case he might put to the Coroner was entirely true.

He took the shortest way to her father's farm and by good fortune he met her in one of the fields. She was carrying a basket containing vegetables.

"Miss Binnie Howes?" he asked, raising his hat.

"That's me," she said, eyeing him curiously. She was fresh-coloured and plump, of the type well described by the old-fashioned phrase, a buxom wench. Rather fully developed for her years.

"I want to ask you one or two questions and hope you will not mind answering them."

"Oh, and who may you be?"

"My name is Bennion. I live in Beckford, but only for the holiday season. I do not suppose you have heard of me. Mr. Garnet Michelmore was a friend of mine."

"Oh, indeed!" Her tone was defensive. "What about him?"

"I believe at one time you had, shall we say, a little trouble with him?"

"I don't know what you mean." Her rising colour belied her words. She tossed her head and turned as though to leave him.

"Don't go, Binnie. I may have news of him for you."

"What news?"

"I fear it is bad news. He is dead."

She faced him again. "Dead? Is that true?" She had a pleasant voice with something of the accent of the county, though she had been to a good school. There had been no time for the ill-tidings to spread and she was obviously startled by what he said. At first she seemed hardly to realise its full significance. "Is that why he didn't come to the meeting last night?"

"I am afraid it is. His body was found in Pender's Pool early this morning."

"He, he fell in?"

"Or he threw himself in. The police believe it was that."

The words appeared to stun her. For some moments she was silent. Then she whispered incredulously, "Why should he do it?"

"There will of course be an enquiry. He told me what happened one night when you were at his rooms."

"I don't know what you mean," she muttered again, staring at him but making no move to go away.

"I think you do, Binnie. It was that night when you remained after the other girls left. I do not suggest it had anything to do with the death, but I want to be sure."

"How could it?"

"I do not like asking the questions and I know it is unpleasant for you. But he came to me for advice and I want you to tell me the truth. Did anything of the same sort happen again? Did he take advantage of it?"

The warm colour still flushed her cheeks. He would not have approached an ordinary girl in such a way, but if Garnet's story was true she was an exceptional case. She was hesitating. He could read her thoughts. Should she tell the truth or should she still assert she did not understand what he meant?

"If I tell you," she said at last, "who else will know about it?"

"No one," Roger replied. "It may make it easier for me to clear his name, that is all."

"No need to clear his name. He was as near a saint as no matters. I admired him a lot, but I was daft. I had fallen out with Jim Abbott and I thought if I could get Mr. Garnet, Jim would feel small."

"Jim Abbott being your boy friend?"

"That's right. His father has the farm next ours. Mr. Garnet had been talking of loving one another and I thought any man, But I was wrong. He was different. I was angry at first and meant to get my way. But it never happened again and I made it up with Jim."

"It never happened again?"

"Never. We hardly spoke. Jim and I made it up and we are getting married in a few weeks. Dad is pleased and meant to tell Mr. Garnet last night and arrange about our being called in church. I hoped he would marry us. But he didn't come. If, if he drowned himself, why did he do it?"

"He had many worries that people do not know about. I am glad that was not one of them. If you have told me the truth you have nothing more to distress yourself about."

"It is the truth. Honest."

"I am glad. I hope you and Jim will be very happy. I am sure that would have been his wish too. There was no other young lady he was interested in?"

"None at all. Some were interested in him, but he thought parsons should not marry."

"You did not agree with him?"

"Well, parsons are men, aren't they? But he was different." As Roger walked home he thought over what she had told him. She was really a simple girl, primitive perhaps in her instincts, and he was satisfied her story was to be believed. She would probably be a good wife; what her people might call a good breeder. He could picture her surrounded by a family of young children, getting stouter but enjoying life.

When he reached Oldways, Ruth told him Pearl had just left. They had had a real heart to heart talk and she thought she had been able to comfort her a little.

"She is very distressed about Garnet," Ruth said. "She thinks he set himself a standard of life it was hard to live up to and the news of his parentage made him despair of doing it."

"She is probably right. Has she any ideas as to Adelaide's death?"

"No. That worries her too, but we talked most of the time about herself. I am glad you said what you did about a clean marriage. I believe she loves Peter Skelton but Arthur Dixon rather fascinates her and wants her to go away with him. She was more inclined to listen to him when she knew of her father's irregular life. But I told her if a man deserted his wife for another woman, there was no surety he would not desert her too, after a time. The trouble is, Peter is not assertive enough, and there is the question of her money. He is rather quixotic about that, while she thinks the Adelaide trouble and Garnet's unhappy end make her unfit to marry a doctor in a place where the people know about it."