I had heard something of Mr Ward's pickaxe and spadework from Mrs Kempson, who had had it from Mrs Landgrave, but I was glad to get it at first hand from the same (I thought) reliable source.
'Do you think,' I asked, 'that Mr Ward attacked somebody with either spade or pickaxe and was killed by that person in self-defence and subsequently buried in the hope that his death could be kept from the police?'
'I can't see him going for anybody,' she said, 'not unless he had gone out of his mind. He was always quiet and decent when he was here.'
'Yet you were sufficiently anxious about the state of his mind to contact Mrs Kempson,' I said. She explained that it was the children of whom she had been thinking.
'It isn't nice to have anybody that's a bit touched when you have children around,' she said. 'Besides, we thought Mrs Kempson ought to know.'
'Did you think it strange,' I asked, 'that Mrs Kempson did not accommodate him at the manor house? Surely she had plenty of room up there?'
But Mrs Landgrave refused, very properly, of course, to commit herself on either of these points, protesting that she had never thought about it and that she had been glad of the money which Mrs Kempson paid. This seemed to lead us to a dead end and I was about to thank her for the refreshment she had provided-a glass of very good cowslip wine and a biscuit-when a thought recurred to me. I say 'recurred', my dear Sir Walter, because in an earlier idle moment it had occurred to me one day when Mrs Kempson was describing her first meeting (after his lengthy absence) with Mr Ward. This thought was that it was difficult to reconcile the cool, hard-headed, somewhat cynical ex-convict which she had described to me, with the mentally deranged individual of quiet, inoffensive habits but eccentric behaviour pictured to me by Mrs Landgrave.
Are you a suggestible person?' I asked her. 'I mean by that,' I explained, for I could see that she did not understand me, 'the kind of person who is apt to be influenced by the last speaker, for example.'
I was sure she would deny this, and she did. (People always do.)
'You're thinking of my sister Lally, the children's other auntie,' she informed me. 'I don't think anybody could make me change my mind once I'd made it up, except that sometimes, when I'm cross with the children, they can get round me, especially Ken, who is the most lovable little boy.'
'They are charming children,' I said. 'Well, then, Mrs Landgrave, if you are not suggestible, I would like to put a plain question to you and will wait while you consider your answer.'
'Oh, dear! You sound like that policeman,' she said. 'All right, then, you ask and either I'll answer truthfully or not at all.'
'Fair enough,' I agreed. 'Now Mr Ward was with you for just over five years, I believe. Did you ever wonder whether the man whom Mrs Kempson sent to you was the Mr Ward who carried out all that extraordinary delving?'
She stared at me, then she closed her eyes. She certainly took her time before she opened them again. Then she shook her head firmly.
'No,' she said decisively. 'He may have gone a bit wrong in his head, poor man, but it was the same gentleman. Turned up one afternoon with his little portmanteau of clothes and said he was Mr Ward and he believed it was all arranged he should stay with me.'
'Did Mrs Kempson accompany him to introduce him to you?' I asked, although I felt I knew the answer from the way she had described his arrival. She shook her head again.
'She didn't bring him nor did she ever come here to visit him,' she averred. All she did was to send me his money every week and him his money orders to cash at the post-office each month. I knew about that because the postman used to come before Mr Ward got up and I used to put the letter-it was the only one he ever got-by the side of his plate, and once he opened the envelope just as I brought in his eggs and bacon and one of the money orders fell out. I saw what it was, although he scuffled it up again all quick. I didn't see the amount and anyway that was no business of mine.'
I took my leave. She had given me something to think about. It seemed to me that another consultation with Mrs Kempson might be advantageous. Before I returned to Hill House, however, I thought I would pay a visit to the Widow Winter. From what the children had told me, it seemed that, if she chose, she could prove to be a valuable source of information about what I was beginning to think must be the pseudo Mr Ward.
She was all servility and unctuousness, a female Uriah Heep if ever I met one, and she invited me in without enquiring either my name or my business. I found out at once that, to some extent, she knew both. (I attempt to reproduce her remarks.)
'Do please to set down, ma'am,' she said, when she had conducted me into a small, airless room which smelt, although less attractively, like one of the hothouses at Kew Gardens. 'You well be the lady as es stayen up the hell weth the lady of the manor, and very glad she es of your company, Oi'll be bound.'
'Yes, Mrs Kempson and I are good friends,' I said, 'but it is not of her that I have come to speak.'
'Oi see you goen up the road with them cheldren of Messus Landgrave's. Dear little souls they be, and knows how to behave themselves, as there's others as don't. Ben to see Messus Honour, Oi reckon, and bought the cheldren some sweeties, as Oi seen them weth sherbet dabs and a bag what could have ben toffee. Oi knows you never went to Mess Summers, because her leves opposyte and Oi would have seen you go en there, wouldn't Oi? So ef the keddies had sweets et was from Messus Honour's, not as she could tell ee much, Oi'll lay. But et pays to be koind to lettle cheldren, don't et, ma'am? The good Lord's lambs they be, when all's said and done. Oi ded hear as et was them as got that poor Poachy Leng to deg up that poor Mester Ward. What an experience for innocent cheldren! Enough to sour their loives on 'em, Oi do declare!'
'I do not think they saw the actual body, you know. They appear to have fled to their grandfather as soon as they realised what Mr Ling was digging up,' I said. 'It seems that the little girl had found one of Mr Ward's elastic-sided boots in the garden of that hideous cottage and jumped to the right conclusion as soon as Mr Ling uncovered the first signs of clothing on the cadaver.'
'To thenk of that, now! And Poachy Leng, as es hes mother's cross en loife-not but what Oi suppose we've all got one of them to trouble us-goen about the vellage as pleased weth hesself as ef he'd found a crock of gold instead of a poor murdered man!'
'Crocks of gold are only found at the foot of the rainbow, I believe,' I said.
She looked at me with a kind of ghoulish craftiness and observed,
'Oi reckon Mester Ward found a crock of gold, all roight, though not en that there old cottage.'
'How do you mean?' I enquired.
'Getten money out of Messus Kempson loike that! Ben en Mother Honour's, Oi have, when Oi see her push hem twenty pounds across her counter, and Oi was en Mess Summers' shop another toime when Oi see Messus Landgrave change a pound for a couple of loaves and a quarter of tea. Oi says to moiself as that must be some of the money as Mester Ward brengs en. Oi see the manor servant come to Messus Landgrave's proud as a lord on one of the carriage horses. Come every Froiday he ded, regular as clockwork, and et was on a Froiday, after he ben, as Oi was en Mess Summers' that toime. Oi knows as Arthur Landgrave, when he's en work, whech ent always, hem be'en a plasterer, gets paid of a Saturday, not a Froiday, so when Oi sees her change a pound on a Froiday, well, you know what to thenk, don't ee?'
'How do you know a servant comes to Mrs Landgrave's house on Fridays?' I asked.
'Her front railings stands a long way further out nor moine. Oi can't see her front door, but Oi can see who comes to her front gate. Oi see you and them cheldren go en a whoile ago.'