“It must have upset you very much.”
Mrs. Dugdale had opened her smelling bottle. The atmosphere became tinged with aromatic vinegar. She sniffed.
“I was prostrated. My nerves are not strong enough for that sort of thing. I told Sergeant Hobson so. ‘It is no use your asking me,’ I said, ‘I cannot help you at all. She was only here for a month, and she went away without leaving any address. I found her a most unsympathetic character, and I was thankful to see the last of her. I cannot help you in any way, and I really must decline to be mixed up in her affairs.’ Don’t you think I was right?”
“The police are so very pertinacious,” said Miss Silver in tones of regret. “I fear they may trouble you again.”
“I shall refuse to see them.”
Miss Silver let that go. She said,
“It seems strange in these days when there are so many undesirable people about that anyone should be willing to employ a young woman without taking up her reference. Miss Ball had not, I suppose, the temerity to ask you for one, though I believe you would be legally obliged to pass on the reference you had with her if she did not stay with you for longer than a month.”
Mrs. Dugdale became quite animated.
“Nothing could be more unfair, and so I told the person who rang me up. I had a very good reference from my cousin, and how she could bring herself to deceive me as she did, I really do not know. I couldn’t have done it! I told the person who rang me up that Miss Ball had been with a cousin of mine for a year or two-in Germany .” She pronounced the words as if they indicated a highly suspicious background. “I said that I had not found her congenial and could not recommend her personally, but I had no reason to suppose that she was not honest and respectable. I do not see that I could have said any more.”
Miss Silver said,
“The police could take no exception to that.”
A little colour had come into Mrs. Dugdale’s face.
“Oh, I didn’t tell the police. It had nothing to do with them one way or the other.”
“So inquisitive-” sighed Miss Silver. “I wonder how long a girl such as you describe would satisfy any employer. This person who rang up-what did you say the name was?”
Mrs. Dugdale had recourse to the smelling-salts.
“I never can remember names-I find it a strain upon the nerves.” She paused, sniffed, and added in a doubtful tone, “It wasn’t Cadbury?”
There appeared to be no reason why it should have been Cadbury.
Mrs. Dugdale continued in a musing tone, “Or Bostock-or Cadell-or Carrington… Such a curious voice too-very deep. Really, I thought it was a man speaking, but what she wanted was a nursery governess for her children. There were three of them, and I felt it my duty to tell her of Miss Ball’s callous behaviour to my precious boy, but she said her children could look after themselves, so my conscience is clear.”
“And the name was?”
“ Chelmsford -or Ruddock-or Radford-I really cannot say which,” said Mrs. Dugdale in a drifting voice.
Miss Silver had produced pencil and paper from a shabby black handbag. She added these names to those which she had already written down.
“I have a young friend who is anxious to find Miss Ball. It appears that she left a trunk in her keeping, and she does not know what to do about it.”
Mrs. Dugdale sniffed at her aromatic vinegar.
“Most inconsiderate,” she said, “but only what one would expect from Anna Ball. I remember my husband’s sister doing the same to me-a box of clothes, taking up room and collecting moth. But he was deplorably weak where his family was concerned.”
Miss Silver allowed herself to be told all about Miss Mary Dugdale. It was a theme upon which her sister-in-law became quite animated.
“Such a domineering person, and really terribly fatiguing. Breezy, her friends called it-‘Mary is so breezy!’ ” She shuddered. “I really don’t think my nerves have ever quite got over it. She stayed for three months, and always opened a window whenever she came into the room.”
The atmosphere was so oppressive, so heavily impregnated with aromatic vinegar, a strongly-scented face-powder, and an occasional whiff of moth-ball that Miss Silver could not help feeling some sympathy with the breezy Miss Dugdale. Not that she had any partiality for draughts-on the contrary-but an invalid’s room should be regularly aired.
When the last drop of self-pity had been distilled, and not till then, did a slight cough re-introduce the subject of Anna Ball’s employer.
“I felt sure that you would sympathize with my young friend’s predicament. Perhaps your maid-what is her name- ah, yes, Postlethwaite-perhaps she can help us.”
Mrs. Dugdale’s animation ceased. She closed her eyes and said she doubted it. But after a little tactful persuasion Miss Silver was allowed to ring the bell.
“Two long and one short. And I am really afraid that I must not talk very much more. It has been very pleasant, but I shall pay for it. My head-”
A description of the expected symptoms was still not complete when it was interrupted by the appearance of Postlethwaite, more like a wardress than ever, but mercifully not accompanied by Mother’s Boy. Even Miss Silver’s tact failed to penetrate the armour-plating. Postlethwaite made it perfectly plain that she had no intention of either remembering or attempting to remember anything to do with Miss Ball. As far as she was concerned, Anna Ball no longer existed.
Mrs. Dugdale’s attitude was hardly a helpful one.
“We don’t know Miss Ball’s address-do we, Postlethwaite?”
“No, madam.”
“Or where she has gone?”
“No, madam.”
Mrs. Dugdale closed her eyes.
“Then I am afraid I must not talk any more.”
The interview was plainly at an end. It was disappointing- very disappointing indeed. Miss Silver had perforce to take her leave.
A faint hope arose at the discovery that it was no part of Postlethwaite’s duties to speed the departing guest. A single long trill of the electric bell summoned the middle-aged parlourmaid to discharge this task, and it was whilst discoursing to Agnes with bright amiability on her young friend’s predicament with regard to Miss Ball’s trunk that Miss Silver produced a five-pound note from her shabby bag. Telling Mrs. Harrison the cook about it afterwards, Agnes could hardly get the words out fast enough.
“Well, I thought, it only just shows what I’ve always said, you never can tell. Mind you, I know a lady when I see one, and a lady she was. But old-fashioned-well, I ask you! One of those black cloth coats that don’t look as if they’d ever been anything else, and the sort of fur tie you’d expect to see in a second-hand clothes shop. Black wool stockings, and a hat the very moral of the one we saw in that film-now what was it called? You know, the one where the girl has that awful governess that wants to poison her.”
Mrs. Harrison opined that governesses were always a trouble in the house, but there weren’t so many of them nowadays, and a good thing too.
“Well, that’s what she looked like-one of those old-fashioned governesses, and when she took a five-pound note out of her bag you could have knocked me down with a feather. ‘My young friend,’ she says-that’s the one she’d been telling me about all the way down the stairs, not mentioning any names but just ‘My young friend,’ like that-‘well she’s very anxious to get rid of this trunk Miss Ball left with her, so she wants to know where she is, and if you or the cook can give her any help, there’s a reward offered, and another note like this to come.’ Well, she puts it into my hand and stands there looking at me very pleasant. So what I thought was, it wasn’t anything to do with Miss Postlethwaite, and I said we’d be very pleased to help, and I’d talk it over with you, and would she leave her address, which she wrote it down on a piece of paper, and here it is.