Miss Silver gave her little cough.
“I am aware of that. It was, if I may say so, exceedingly courageous of Miss Langton to suggest your going to the police. But”-she coughed again-“have you considered the probability that she has disappeared as a consequence of that suggestion?”
Archie nodded.
“I thought about it.”
“Mr. Moray may have taken her away.”
“I don’t think so, because, you see, I said I wouldn’t go to the police.”
“You said you wouldn’t go to the police?”
“Not till we’d tried everythin’ else. And Margaret said there was someone who might know where Greta-where Miss Standing was. She said she’d go and see this person as soon as ever she got off, and she promised to ring me up at my cousin’s. Well, she never rang me up at my cousin’s. And she never went back to her flat. And it seems to me she might have seen this fellow, whoever he was, and he might have cut up rough.”
“On the other hand, he might have known that Miss Standing was safe. And Miss Langton may, as I suggested before, have thought it wiser to disappear-there have been several arrests.”
“She’d have rung me up,” said Archie doggedly. “She said she’d ring me up, and she’d have done it. Don’t you believe she’s disappeared of her own free will-she hasn’t. I’m very worried about her, and I’m goin’ on worryin’ other people till I find her.”
Miss Silver took the brown exercise-book, turned to a blank page, and wrote. In a moment she looked up.
“Yes?”
“I went down to Sauterelle’s this mornin’-that’s Miss Langton’s hat-shop. I asked to speak to the other girls-bit of a V.C. job that-and one of them says Margaret told her she was goin’ off to say good-bye to her stepfather. Look here, Miss Silver-it’s damned ridiculous, but I can’t get it out of my head-Margaret’s stepfather is Freddy Pelham. He lives in a house in George Street. The gardens run down to the gardens of Thornhill Square, with just an alley-way between them. Margaret went to say good-bye to Freddy Pelham at six o’clock. Charles came out of his house in Thornhill Square at somewhere about five. He came out by the garden way. That’s to say he was within fifty yards or so of Freddy Pelham’s back gate. Supposin’ he went up to say good-bye to Freddy Pelham too? Margaret went, and she hasn’t come back. Charles hasn’t come back either. It’s damned ridiculous, but I can’t get it out of my head that old Charles may have gone there too.”
“There are other explanations,” said Miss Silver. Then she coughed and asked abruptly,
“Where is Mr. Pelham?”
“Gone abroad. I told you Margaret was sayin’ good-bye to him. Left this mornin’ by aeroplane. Address poste restante, Paris -and a flat lot of good that is!”
Miss Silver tapped with her pencil.
“Are you suggesting that we should apply for a search warrant?”
“No, I’m not. I’m suggestin’ doin’ a little job of breakin’ and enterin’. Look here, Miss Silver, are you game? I’m suggestin’ you and me goin’ boldly in by the garden door and openin’ a window with a skeleton key, or chisel, or what not. Unless Freddy’s done somethin’ drastic since I used to play in and out of the garden with Charles and Margaret, there’ll be some odd window I can get through. The question is, are you game?”
“I’ve my reputation to consider,” said Miss Silver. She coughed. “If I were walking along George Street and were to ring Mr. Pelham’s bell-” She paused and gazed at him mildly. “If you opened the door to me, it really wouldn’t be any business of mine how you got in.”
“Righto! I do the breakin’, and you do the enterin’. Come along!”
Three quarters of an hour later Mr. Millar crawled through a scullery window. It was a tight fit, and there was broken glass about; his clothes sustained some damage. He dusted himself, wondered why a scullery always smelt of cabbage, and proceeded upstairs, where he reconnoitered George Street through a hole in the drawing-room shutters. Miss Silver, in her drab rain-coat and old-fashioned turban toque, was walking slowly along the opposite pavement. She held a newspaper in her hand.
Archie proceeded to the front door and oscillated the brass flap of the letter-box.
Miss Silver crossed the road and rang the bell.
The door was secured by bolts at top and bottom. They creaked a good deal. Archie opened the door with a flourish, and Miss Silver came in. As soon as the door was shut, she turned to Archie as if she were about to speak; then suddenly changed her mind. Instead she folded the newspaper and put it into her bag.
They went together into the drawing-room. The closed shutters made a gloom there. Miss Silver took a torch from the pocket of her rain-coat.
After ten minutes they went to the dining-room, and then up the stairs. About half way to the study Miss Silver stooped and picked up a little piece of torn paper. It was just such a piece as might be torn from the corner of a letter. She flashed the light to and fro, but found nothing more.
The study was not so dark as the drawing-room; there were no shutters here, and the maroon curtains had not been drawn. A light blind reaching to within an inch of the floor screened the long French window.
Archie went over to the window and released the blind. As it left his hand, Miss Silver called to him:
“Mr. Millar-come here.”
He came quickly. He had not thought the placid voice could be shaken. Most undeniably it shook now. “Mr. Millar-look!”
She pointed, and Archie looked. At about the level of his shoulder the woodwork at the side of the door was cracked.
The edge of the jamb showed a small semi-circular furrow, the wall behind, a neat round hole.
Archie gave a faint whistle of dismay.
“A bullet hole, by gum!”
“I think so. I think the bullet’s in the wall. I trust he missed whatever he was aiming at.”
She walked over to the table, stooping on her way to pick up another torn scrap of paper. This one lay near the chair which was drawn close up to the side of the table. She stood for a moment, small grey eyes intent, hands clasped on the old-fashioned reticule she always carried. Then she leaned over the table.
Half a dozen little bits of paper lay amongst Freddy Pelham’s letters, just as they had slipped from Margaret’s hand.
Miss Silver nodded, straightened up, and looked about her. The table stood a couple of yards from the window. She looked across it and saw the garden sloping to the alley-way. The trees had a mournful, drooping look, half their leaves gone, and those that were left to them poor, torn, draggled survivals. She saw the ugly spirals of the iron balustrade guarding the garden stairs. She saw the long window between heavy, maroon curtains, one looped back, the other hanging straight. And she saw a piece of white paper lying at the foot of the straight curtain.
She went over, picked it up, and held it out to Archie.
“Well, Mr. Millar, you were right. They’re here.”
Margaret had stuck her piece of paper on the glass, but as it dried, it had fallen.
Archie read the scrawled pencil message:
“Cellars-C. and M.”
He read it, turned to stare at the hole Freddy Pelham’s bullet had made, and once more whistled softly.
“What’s it mean?”
“We shall doubtless find out. Perhaps you know the way to the cellars. I think we had better go there at once.”
She was through the door before she finished speaking. Archie followed.
At the door leading to the basement Miss Silver found another piece of paper. She coughed approvingly.
“It’s a pleasure to work with anyone so intelligent.”
“I say, that’s awfully nice of you!”
“I was not referring to you, Mr. Millar. Miss Langton must be a highly intelligent person, even for a woman.”
They went down into the basement, and farther down to where three cellar doors opened upon a dark flagged passage.