“Her pulse is quite steady. I am sure there is no cause for alarm.”
As she spoke, Allegra opened her eyes, gave a faint cry, and attempted to sit up.
“Oh, what has happened?”
Ione said,
“Nothing. We were pushed off the kerb, and you had a fall.”
“I can’t-remember. Am I-hurt?”
“I don’t think so. Do you feel as if you were?”
She did sit up this time, turning her head and moving her arms and legs. In the end she said in an almost disappointed tone.
“No, I don’t seem to be, do I?” She looked down at her hands. “Oh, I’ve split my glove!”
By the time they arrived at the George she only needed Ione’s arm to steady her, and was presently able to come into the dining-room for lunch.
Warmly pressed to stay, Miss Silver did so. There were things she wished to say, and she hoped that she might have an opportunity of saying them. It came when the excellent lunch had been disposed of and they had withdrawn into a comfortable small sitting-room with the assurance from the manageress that no one would disturb them there. She even produced a rug to cover Allegra if she cared to rest upon the sofa. Ione tucked her up, and by the time the others had finished their coffee she was deeply asleep.
Ione moved a little nearer to Miss Silver and dropped her voice.
“What happened? Were you behind us? What did you see?”
Miss Silver shook her head regretfully.
“Very little, I am afraid. There was a very big man in front of me wearing one of those old-fashioned Inverness capes. It was he, of course, who saved your sister’s life. No one could have reached her in time, but he caught her arm with the crook of his stick.” Ione drew in her breath.
“I didn’t see him,” she said-“only his arm-and the stick. He must have gone away.”
Miss Silver said in a non-committal voice,
“He may not have wanted to be thanked.”
Ione said very earnestly indeed,
“Did you see him? Could you describe him?”
Miss Silver’s gaze dwelt on her with interest.
“He was a big man, and of course the cape made him look bigger. I did not at that time see his face. But there are two small points to which I may perhaps draw your attention-”
Ione broke in upon what promised to be a leisurely sentence.
“Yes-what were they? Oh, please forgive me, but you don’t know how important it is!”
Miss Silver smiled at her kindly. Youth is always in a hurry.
“He had quite a broad Scottish accent,” she said.
“You heard him speak?”
“To a child who asked him the time. He replied, ‘Look up at the clock-tower, laddie.’ ”
Ione felt as if she had been waiting for a door to open. Now, of all things in the world, she wanted it to stay shut. And it wouldn’t-not for her or for anyone else. She said in a lagging voice,
“You said there were two things-what was the other?”
“I was behind him as we crossed the street to the island. He was humming to himself.”
“Did you know the tune?”
“Oh, yes, it was one of the better known of the Scottish airs. I knew it at once. It was ‘The Bluebells of Scotland.’ ”
The door was opened with a vengeance. What lay beyond it was terrifying and incomprehensible. Every instinct spoke of danger, and connected that danger with the Professor. She knew him to be in Wraydon. She knew him to be The Great Prospero whose presence was advertised on every hoarding, and she could have no doubt that it was he who had crossed the road humming ”The Bluebells of Scotland” and had stood on the island behind her and Allegra. When she had heard him bargaining over a life in the fog, whose life was it? Was it Allegra’s life? But he had saved Allegra. It was the crook of his stick which had snatched her back from the impending death. Had he pushed her, and then had his moment of remorse? There are mysterious promptings under which we snatch back the not quite spoken word, recall the not quite accomplished act. Had Allegra been saved because of such a prompting? But that would mean that it was Allegra’s life she had heard bargained about in the fog. The clear, hard voice of common sense said, ”Nonsense!” And something else said, “Margot died.” She was what is called an encumbrance. Perhaps Allegra was an encumbrance too.
She was aware of Miss Silver’s scrutiny. It was deep and searching. She felt as if a light was being turned upon her thoughts. It was a kind and beneficent light, but very keen. The curious thing was that she did not resent it. She said,
“Miss Silver, I think I had better tell you that I know why you are here.”
Miss Silver retained her kindly expression.
“Yes, my dear?”
“Josepha Bowden wrote and told me. She is an erratic, interfering person, and I was-angry.”
“Very naturally so, Miss Muir.”
“And then I met you. I could see that you were not at all the sort of person I expected. Josepha had really no right to butt in on a delicate family matter, but she is, and always has been, devoted to Allegra, and if you love anyone, it is hard to stand by and not know how it is with them. I don’t want you to think that Allegra’s family has been neglectful. The cousin who brought us up has had an illness, and I could not leave her. I had been out in the States, and returned to find her between life and death. Then, when she was better, every plan to see my sister fell through. There was always a perfectly reasonable excuse, but-we didn’t meet. I was getting desperate, when this visit of mine was proposed, and this time it actually came off. Apparently Josepha was getting desperate too, and when she is desperate she really can be very alarming. I am always expecting her to get mixed up in a libel action, or a slander case or something, because she doesn’t care what she says.”
Miss Silver agreed in her own way.
“She is perhaps inclined to vehemence. When she first spoke to me I was doubtful about taking the case, but on reflection it seemed to me that I could do no possible harm by coming down here for a week. If I found that Miss Bowden’s fears were groundless, that Mrs. Trent was living happily with her husband, and that no undue pressure was being put upon her in the matter of the Ladies’ House, then Miss Bowden’s fears would be relieved, and I felt she would consider that I had earned my fee. If, on the other hand, there was anything wrong, it would be as well that someone who had Mrs. Trent’s interests at heart should know of it.”
Ione was looking at her earnestly.
“And what conclusion did you come to?”
“I became aware that your sister was taking drugs.”
The colour rushed into Ione’s face.
“I know! But she is better, Miss Silver, she is really better. Someone must have persuaded her to take the stuff in the rush before the wedding. Geoffrey discovered it on their honeymoon. He has told me all about it. He took her to a French doctor, and he thought she was cured, but it has cropped up again. Today he told me that he had found out where she kept her supply, and that he and Doctor Whichcote were weaning her from it with diminishing doses. She is very, very much better than when I arrived-I couldn’t think what had happened to her then. Of course it explains why she wouldn’t meet me and everything.”
Miss Silver said, “Yes.” Then she folded her hands in her lap and looked very directly at Ione.
“Miss Muir, are you in your own mind quite satisfied about the death of Margot Trent?”
CHAPTER 21
There was a sense of tingling shock. The colour which had risen so brightly as she spoke of Allegra now faded out. She said in an uncertain voice,
“What do you mean?”
Miss Silver coughed.
“It could doubtless have been an accident. The girl was careless, and not possessed of any high order of reasoning. She has been described to me by a number of people, and I have been left with the impression that, so far as mental development went, she was an irresponsible child of seven or eight years old. Does this agree with your own judgment?”