“And where did you think he was going? You must have had some ideas on the subject.”
“Not about where, not exactly. But I did think he’d started selling the things himself where he could, round antique shops, and like that. I tried to get him to stop, but he only told me not to be a fool. And by that time Jim had started coming after me.” She flushed warmly even at the mention of his name. “We had a bit of a fight for it, because Dad didn’t want to lose his housekeeper. But we did it in the end. And was I glad to get away to a home of my own!”
Hewitt turned his pen placidly on the desk, regarding her with his most benevolent and unrevealing face. “But that didn’t end it, did it?”
“It did, until about a week ago.” She thought back, biting her lip. “Last Monday it was—five days ago. Dad came when Jim was out, and brought this whole bag of coins, and some rings and things, all there was left. He said so. He said to hide them and keep them for him. I know I ought to have refused, but I was scared of him. You can’t just stop being scared of somebody,” said Rose, with unexpected directness and dignity, “when you have been all your life. He said he’d take it out of Jim if I didn’t do what he wanted. It seemed the easiest thing then to put them away out of sight till I could see my way. But then,” she said, apprehensive eyes on Hewitt’s face, “you came yesterday and told us he was dead. And I knew you were sending men to ask questions all over about Jim and me. I didn’t know what to do, I was terrified you might search the house, and find those things there. I had to get rid of them, and the only thing that seemed even half-way right was to put them back where he took them from. And that’s what I did. Only she—I never can forget it—seeing her—”
“You should have told me,” said Jim reproachfully, “and not tried to do things by yourself, that way.”
“Jim never knew anything about it until now. He never knew the things were in the house. And I never wanted them. I never wanted anything to do with it.”
“All right, Rose! Now you’ve done what you should have done in the first place, and if ever you find yourself in a spot like that again, don’t you run the risk of putting yourself under suspicion, you just come to me, and bring the whole thing into the open. Now there’s one thing you can do to help us, as well as showing us the entrance into the vault. Can you remember any of the pieces your father brought home in all that time?”
“Yes, some I can,” she said hopefully. “They were all that old, you know, they were different from the sort you see now.”
“Well, when you go home, you try to make out a list of the ones you remember, and describe them as well as you can, so that we can try to find them again. Will you do that?”
“Yes, Mr. Hewitt, I’ll try.”
“And don’t keep secrets from your husband from now on, if you want a peaceful life. All right! I may want to ask you some more questions to-morrow, for now we’ll let you rest and think it over. Jim, I’d like you to go with her, Snaith will drive you down to the old church, and I’ll follow in a few minutes and join you there. After that you can take her home and keep a strict eye on her, see she doesn’t get into any more mischief.”
“She won’t,” said Jim grimly, and twisted a finger furtively in her fair hair, and tweaked it tight.
On the way out, still holding his wife very possessively by the arm, he halted squarely in front of Paddy, and stood looking down dubiously but not particularly penitently at the print of his fingers on the boy’s swollen cheek and ear. The kid looked tired, dazed, battered but content. Large eyes stared back just as appraisingly, withholding judgment but assessing quality. They liked each other. They liked each other very well. True, Paddy did burn for one moment in the dread that Jim would blurt out an apology for the clout, and call everyone’s attention to it; but he should have known better.
“Thanks, mate!” said Jim calmly. “I’ll give you as fair a chance, some day, and we’ll get even.”
“That’s all right, mate,” said Paddy, wooden-faced, and eyeing the precise spot at the angle of Jim’s jaw where ideally he should connect. “And I’ll take it.”
“Come three or four years,” observed Jim, looking him over critically, “I reckon you’ll be about ready, too.” There wasn’t much muscle on the light body yet, but he had a nice long reach, and speed, and spirit enough for an army.
“I reckon so,” said Paddy; and with mutual respect they parted.
A concerted sigh of relaxation and wonder and speculation went round the room as soon as the door had closed, and the sound of feet descending the stairs had ebbed to a distant, lingering echo. They stirred and rose, drawing together round the desk.
“You believe her story?” asked Simon.
“Yes, I believe it. All of it, maybe, most of it, certainly. Maybe Jim’s clever enough to put over an act of knowing nothing about it, but I don’t think so.”
“He didn’t know,” said Paddy, standing up in the middle of events with authority, for hadn’t he precipitated this single-handed? “They were rowing when I got there, before I ever got in the house. She was all nerves and cried if he looked at her, and he was just about frantic trying to get sense out of her. Why should he act when there was nobody else there?”
“I’m prepared to accept that,” agreed Hewitt benevolently. “Rose has cleared up quite a number of things for us, but she hasn’t shed any light on who killed her father. There’s nothing to put Jim out of the running for that, so far.”
“He didn’t know about the tunnel into the vault,” said Paddy doggedly, “so he couldn’t have put him there.”
“Oh, yes, he could, laddie. Finding a back way in doesn’t block the front door. There was a key almost anyone could get at. There could be others who knew about the back door, too, of course. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t say Jim makes a good suspect, but he isn’t out of it. We’ve got plenty to do yet—looking into Trethuan’s finances, for one thing.”
He reached for his hat, smothering a yawn. “Well, I’ll be off down and take a look at Rose’s swivelling stone. Care to come along?”
“Not me,” said Tim firmly, after a quick glance at his son. “Paddy and I are off home.”
Paddy wasn’t really sorry. He’d had enough excitement for one day, and a mere hole in the wall isn’t so wonderful, once located. Secret tunnels sound fine, but they’re two-a-penny wherever there was organised smuggling a couple of hundred years ago, whether on a sporting or a commercial scale. It would keep. He went down the stairs after the others, Tim’s arm about his shoulders.
“Well, at any rate,” said Simon, as they emerged into the faint, starry, salty coldness of after-summer and not-yet-autumn, “we do know now what Trethuan was acting so cagey about, why he didn’t want the tomb opened.”
“Do we?” said George Felse.
“Don’t we? With all that stuff there to be found—”
“Ah, but it wasn’t there. There was nothing there this morning but the body—remember? He must have made a special journey, last Sunday, and taken away all that was left of Morwenna’s treasure. At any rate, on Monday he gave it to Rose to hide for him. Once that was done, what was there to betray him? No one would know he’d been stealing it, no one would ever know it had been there at all. Oh, no,” said George pensively, “we haven’t found out yet why Trethuan was so mad to keep you out. It certainly wasn’t because of Mrs. Treverra’s money and jewels, removing them was no problem. They were a good deal more portable than the—purely hypothetical, of course,—brandy. No, the most puzzling thing about that little hoard is something quite different.”