The hall was a small one, and had been, as Miss Falconer explained, the most kind gift of the Americans who were her tenants in the years immediately preceding the war. “Such a boon for concerts and theatricals and dances. And of course the Women’s Institute meets here too.”
When the party from the Ladies’ House came in Miss Falconer was most kindly informative.
“That is Mr. Trent. Such a very good-looking man-but terribly pale this morning. Such a shock! And then having to have an inquest! I did not think his wife would come, but I see she is here-the little one in a fur coat and a black beret. That is her sister next to her, Ione Muir. She made quite a hit in America, you know, doing monologues and sketches. I don’t know whether you would call her pretty, but there is something rather striking about her, don’t you think?”
Miss Silver agreed. The contrast between Mrs. Trent’s little waxen face, from which all expression seemed to have withdrawn, and that of her sister was indeed noticeable. Ione Muir was pale, but it was the kind of pallor which seems to be lighted from within. The fine eyes shone with intelligence, and, as she bent to say something to Allegra, with affection.
She put a hand on her sister’s and kept it there. No one who saw the gesture could fail to realize that the pressure would be warm and kind.
Geoffrey Trent sat on his wife’s other side. To Miss Silver’s practised eye it was obvious that he was exercising a rigorous control. Beyond Ione Muir was the governess, Miss Delauny, her head slightly bent, her hands very tightly clasped in her lap. She was the only one of the party in unrelieved black, and it gave her a curious air of being chief mourner. She wore no make-up except a very light dusting of powder which served to accentuate the pallor of her skin.
In the row behind the family, planted squarely on the outermost seat, was an old man in his working clothes, with earth on his serviceable boots and more than a suspicion of it on the big hands spread out on either knee.
“Oh, dear,” said Miss Falconer in a fluttered whisper-“he ought not to have come like that-he really ought not! He ought to have changed. It is not respectful to the Coroner-it really isn’t.” She dropped her voice still further. “It’s our old gardener, Humphreys-the one I was telling you about. I expect his wife told him he ought to change, and that would be quite enough to make him go straight in the opposite direction. She is his third wife, and they have been married for at least fifteen years, but she isn’t any better at managing him than the others were-and she was a widow too, so you would have thought she would have had some practice. But I suppose the fact is he is a very obstinate old man.”
As the Coroner came in at this moment, Miss Falconer was obliged to leave the subject of old Humphreys and impart a few hurried facts with regard to Mr. Condon. They had stood up when he came in, and she had no more than murmured,
“He is a solicitor in Wraydon-very much respected,” before he took his seat and they all sat down again.
Mr. Condon was dry and brisk. After the opening of the Court with the traditional “Oyez-Oyez-Oyez!” in its English pronunciation of “O yes-o yes-o yes!” everything became extremely businesslike. Medical evidence. Evidence of Mr. Trent. Evidence of Miss Delauny. Evidence of Edward Humphreys.
Miss Silver listened to it all with interest. She watched every smallest change in face, in voice, in manner. She heard of the tricks which Margot Trent had delighted to play. She heard Miss Delauny describe sadly but calmly the methods by which she had tried to interest her charge in other things. There was a rush of tears to her eyes when the Coroner asked her if any means of correction had been employed-scoldings-punishments. With her black gloved hands still tightly clasped before her and those wet eyes fixed on Mr. Condon’s face, she said,
“Oh, never-never! Those things are all wrong for such cases. If you correct, you only confuse the mind. It is necessary always just to go back to the beginning again and work with kindness, patience, and love.”
The Coroner’s lip tightened. He had four children at home who were growing up in a high state of discipline. He had no patience with the “slide and let slide” school, but it wasn’t his business to say so here. According to the police Superintendent there was a general concurrence of opinion that the girl had been treated a great deal too leniently. There had certainly been no severity such as might have made her think of doing away with herself.
Old Mr. Humphreys made no secret about his opinion.
“A real mischeevious brat! Always up to some of her tricks with my tools or my plants!”
He told his story of seeing her come out of the potting-shed on the Sunday afternoon with a rope humped up under her waterproof.
“And when I went in to see what devilment she’d been up to, there was all the old ropes pulled down and scattered about!… Sound? No, none of ’em was sound, and she didn’t ought to have meddled with ’em! Just a lot of crazy old stuff-comes in handy once in a way when I wants a bit of soft packing for a graft.”
“You didn’t go after her to see what she had taken?”
“I knowed well enough what she’d taken-just one of the old ropes. And it was my Sunday afternoon. She calls out a bit of cheek, and I locks up after her and goes along home.”
The Coroner remarked that there was no doubt that a most regrettable accident had occurred. The ropes had been kept in their proper place under lock and key, and the unfortunate girl had known perfectly well that she had no business to touch them. One end of the rope she took had been found fastened to a tree on the edge of the quarry. She had probably intended to descend the cliff face holding on to it, but not many feet from the top the rope had snapped and she had fallen the rest of the way. Death must have been instantaneous. She was still grasping the parted rope when her body was discovered. He found that no blame attached to anyone.
Everybody trooped out of the hall.
Miss Silver was able so to control her exit as to be just in front of the party from the Ladies’ House. A turn as they came level with the door, and she was looking directly into Allegra Trent’s little colourless face and blank eyes. What she saw there shocked her very much.
Her glance passed to Ione Muir, to Miss Delauny, to Geoffrey Trent. Jacqueline Delauny had a handkerchief clenched in her hand. She raised it suddenly, not to her eyes but to her lips, as if the task of controlling them had become too much for her. As she did so she looked in the direction of the door and became aware of Miss Silver’s scrutiny. The lashes came down over the dark eyes. Miss Silver was left thinking about what she had seen in the instant before they fell.
CHAPTER 19
The funeral was over. Jim Severn had gone back to London, Ione Muir was still at the Ladies’ House. It seemed to her impossible that she should leave Allegra, yet to stay on was the last thing on earth that she desired. If she had disliked the place before, she had a very much better reason for disliking it now, but to her surprise neither Geoffrey nor Allegra appeared to have any such feeling. Whilst Miss Falconer was saying rather sadly to Miss Silver that of course poor Mr. Trent would not now want to go any farther with his plans for buying the house, Geoffrey himself was combating this idea with a good deal of force. He was talking to his sister-in-law, or perhaps it would be more correct to say that she had been talking to him.