Put like that, it sounded even worse than he had supposed. An idiot child could have produced a better story. He felt as if Miss Silver was looking right through him. The blood rushed to his face. His ears felt as if they had suddenly become red hot.
She said in a tolerant tone,
“It will be quite easy to find out if she is at home. We can ring the Miss Tremletts up.”
It was Miss Gwyneth who answered the call. She sounded both flustered and cross.
“Oh, dear-what is it?… Miss Silver! Has anything happened? It’s the middle of the night… Miss Elliot? Ina!… Why of course she is! Where else should she be at this hour? Really, Miss Silver… Well, of course, if you insist. But I must say-”
It did not get said, because Miss Gwyneth here let go of the receiver, groped for her slippers, clutched her dressing-gown angrily about her, whisked along a passage, and flung open the door of Thomasina’s room.
She found it empty.
The bed not slept in. No sign of the clothes Thomasina had been wearing. No sign of her outdoor shoes. No sign of her coat.
It was a very frightened voice which came along the line to Miss Silver, waiting in the study at Deepe House.
“Oh, Miss Silver-she isn’t here! Her bed hasn’t been slept in! Her coat isn’t there-she must have gone out! Oh dear, oh dear-what had I better do?”
Miss Silver said firmly,
“Pray do nothing at all, Miss Tremlett.” After which she replaced the receiver and turned to Peter. “She is not there.”
He was at her elbow.
“I know-I heard. This place is like a rabbit-warren-she may be anywhere.”
The words “She may be dead” presented themselves. They clamoured to be admitted. He slammed all his doors upon them, but he had seen them and they could not be forgotten.
Miss Silver said,
“Since you say you heard the second shot when you were just upon the other side of the door, there must be some other way out of this room. How long was it before you came in?”
“Oh, no time at all. I suppose half a minute. A thing like that takes you aback. I switched on my torch, and found I didn’t need it.”
Miss Silver had turned from the writing-table. The room had a deep bay at one end of it. The windows were screened by warm brown velvet curtains. On the left-hand side they extended beyond the bay. It occurred to her that there might be a door in that part of the wall which the curtains concealed. The man who fired the second shot would have had very little time to get away. He must have been aware that he had a line of retreat, and he must have been quick to avail himself of it. He could have slipped behind those curtains in time to avoid being seen. If there was a door there, he must already have made his escape. If there was no door, he might still be there behind the heavy velvet folds, pressed close against wall or window and hearing all that passed. In this case they were, of course, in some considerable danger.
Before Peter Brandon had the least idea of what she was going to do she walked to the window and drew the left-hand curtain back.
CHAPTER XXXVII
There was a door. The last folds of the velvet slid past it and left it bare. But it was not the door that riveted Miss Silver’s attention. She said quickly, “Put out the light, Mr. Brandon!” and as the switch clicked and the room fell dark, they could both see the jutting front of the garage and the glow that came from it. The garage doors were closed. The light came from a window on either side.
Miss Silver put her hand to the curtain and drew it close again.
“It would seem that he went that way, and that he is still there. We will have the light again, Mr. Brandon.”
When it had been switched on she said soberly,
“I expect you noticed that there was a door. There is no doubt that it leads to the garage. If the man who shot Mr. Craddock is still there, he will without doubt be both desperate and dangerous. We cannot count upon the arrival of the police for nearly half an hour. I think we must decide upon what we are to do next.”
“Miss Silver, what I have to do is to find Thomasina. You must see that.”
She laid her hand upon his arm.
“Pray take a moment for consideration. Miss Elliot may already be on her way back to the Miss Tremletts. Mr. Craddock is dead, and the person whom you disturbed, and who is probably the murderer, is in the garage. We do not know why he has delayed his escape. He may be destroying evidence, or he may be waiting for an accomplice to join him. But however he is engaged, it is improbable that he has any time to spare for Miss Elliot. If she is not in the garage she is safe. I think we should make certain that she is not there, and at the same time endeavour to discover the murderer’s identity.”
Peter nodded.
“The windows aren’t any good-at least I shouldn’t think they were. The light wasn’t coming through them clear. There are blinds.”
Miss Silver coughed gently.
“Yes, I noticed that. I think we must see where this door will take us. Let us hope that it is not locked.”
It would have been if the murderer had had the time. The key had actually been taken from the lock on this side but had dropped on the far side of the door. The need for haste had been as great as that.
They stood on the threshold and looked into one of those empty dilapidated rooms. Miss Silver’s powerful torch showed how thick the dust lay everywhere, except on the narrow trodden path which led to the garage door. She turned the light this way and that.
“Look, Mr. Brandon,” she said in a low voice.
A yard from where they stood there were tracks in the dust going away to the left-footprints, quite plain and easy to see, going away to a door in that left-hand wall.
Peter said,
“He didn’t go to the garage. That door goes back into the passage with the hand. He must have got out that way as soon as I was safe in the study. But if he did, who is in the garage?”
“That, I think, is what we had better find out.”
Inside the garage Thomasina stood against the wall. Anna Ball was still talking. She could have talked for an hour and hardly have begun to tell Thomasina just how clever she and Mr. Sandrow had been, and just how much they hated and despised all the stupid people whom they had so easily taken in.
“He had to see Peveril Craddock, because Peveril was turning yellow. He puts on an act, you know-he hasn’t really got a lot of nerve. Mr. Sandrow had made up his mind he would have to deal with him. I expect those were the shots we heard. He was going to arrange it to look like a suicide, but if he couldn’t do that-and he says it’s very difficult to get the fingerprints really convincing-on the gun, you know-then we were going to get him into the car and stage a crash on Quarry Hill. The car would of course be quite burnt out-a can or two of petrol would fix that all right-and Peveril out of the way for good. I don’t suppose Emily would cry her eyes out. He was trying to get rid of the children, you know. But so inefficient-no real nerve. Now if Mr. Sandrow had taken it in hand, there wouldn’t have been any hitch, but he said it wasn’t his business and Peveril could do his own dirty work.”
“Anna!”
It was when Thomasina said, “Anna!” that Peter Brandon turned the handle of the door and edged it open. It wasn’t the door behind Thomasina, but the one on the other side of the garage. He had stood behind it with Miss Silver and heard the angry rise and fall of a woman’s voice. Then, as the handle turned and the door slid, he heard Thomasina say Anna’s name on that note of horror and protest. His heart turned over. Because he had been afraid-he had been very much afraid.
She said, “Anna!” and he opened the door.