Lamb said, “That’s right enough. Well, you say you haven’t got an opinion, but it seems to me you’ve been giving me one.”
She made a slight negative gesture.
“It is merely a theory, Chief Inspector. It is not an opinion. ”
CHAPTER 31
As Minnie Mercer seated herself in the chair recently occupied by Gladys Marsh, it is probable that each of the other three people present was visited by a sense of contrast. Miss Mercer not only looked ill and strained, but she had an appearance of fragility which rather alarmed the Chief Inspector. Her eyes had a haunting look of distress. She folded her hands in her lap and leaned against the high back of the chair.
Lamb was leaning back too, his pose easy, his manner quiet. He had obviously no desire to alarm Miss Mercer. “Just a few questions,” was what he had said as she came into the room. He waited now until she was settled, and then said,
“You’ve been a long time at Latter End?”
There was an almost inaudible “Yes.”
“Twenty-five years?”
“Yes.”
“Never thought of leaving?”
A still more inaudible “No.”
“But you are leaving now-or shall we say you were leaving at the time of Mrs. Latter’s death?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Her hands took hold of one another.
“Mrs. Latter was making other arrangements.”
“She gave you notice.”
There may have been a purpose behind the bluntness of his speech. It brought a faint colour to her cheeks. There was a gentle dignity in her manner as she answered him.
“It was not quite like that. Mrs. Street and I had been doing the housework between us, owing to the difficulty of getting any staff. It was a temporary arrangement. Mrs. Latter-” her voice caught on the name-“Mrs. Latter had succeeded in finding a butler and two maids.”
He looked at her shrewdly.
“You haven’t answered my question, have you? Let me put it another way. Did Mrs. Latter ask you to leave, or did the suggestion come from you?”
The faint flush was gone. It is always rather horrifying to see a fair skin quite drained of colour. She opened her lips to speak, and shut them again.
“Well, Miss Mercer?”
Her lips parted. This time she had found words.
“My work here was over.”
Lamb said, “Yes-I suppose so. Now, to go back a little- what was your position here before Mr. Latter’s marriage?”
“It is rather difficult to say. I looked after the house. I- until Mrs. Street married and Miss Vane went away to do war work-I-there were two young girls in the house- they needed someone after their mother died-”
“You took Mrs. Vane’s place?”
She said, with warmth in her voice for the first time,
“No one could do that. I did what I could.”
“Would you say that you were on the same footing as a relation would have been, running the house, looking after the two girls?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“But you received a salary?”
Colour in her face again, quickly come, and very quickly gone.
“Yes.”
“Have you any private means?”
“No.”
“Have you another post in view?”
She shook her head.
“What salary did you receive?”
“Sixty pounds-since Mrs. Vane’s death.”
A brief glance from Frank Abbott met his Chief’s. Sixty pounds a year-to cover those wartime years when wages and salaries had soared!
Lamb said bluntly,
“That’s very low. You didn’t think of asking for a rise?”
“Oh, no!”
If anyone had had the leisure to look in Miss Silver’s direction, it would have been observed that she was frowning, and that her lips were pressed together in a manner which suggested distaste. She was, in fact, exercising a considerable degree of restraint upon herself. She had a good deal of respect for the Chief Inspector, but sometimes he lacked the finer shades. Miss Mercer was a gentlewoman. This was no way to speak to a gentlewoman. Like David in the Psalms, she held her tongue, but it was pain and grief to her.
Lamb, unconscious, pursued his enquiry.
“Then I take it you haven’t saved very much?”
“No.”
“You didn’t expect to have to make a change?”
She said in a gentle, tired voice,
“One doesn’t expect changes-but they come.”
Lamb nodded.
“And that brings us back to where we started. I want to know who suggested this particular change. Was it Mrs. Latter, or was it you?”
“It was Mrs. Latter. I was expecting it.”
“I see. But Mr. Latter was under the impression that it was you who wished to make a change. Who told him that? Was it Mrs. Latter?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t undeceive him?”
She shook her head.
“He was distressed at your going-he asked you to stay? You let him think you wanted to go? Why?”
She said very gently,
“It was the best way. I couldn’t stay if she wanted me to go. I didn’t want there to be any trouble over me.”
“I see-you didn’t want to be the cause of a quarrel. Is that it? Did they often quarrel?”
“Oh, no.”
“But you thought they might quarrel about this?”
“I didn’t want to make any trouble.”
He leaned forward.
“Miss Mercer, you know what happened on Monday night-with that girl Gladys Marsh in the house, there’s no one who doesn’t. You know Mrs. Latter went into Mr. Antony Latter’s room, and her husband found her there. I’d like to know when you heard about that, and who told you.”
The knuckles stood out bone-white on her clasped hands. She leaned forward too.
“Mr. Latter told me. I heard people moving about, and I looked out of my room. I saw him come back. I thought something had happened. He turned, and saw me looking out. He told me what had happened.”
“How did he seem?”
She said, “Dazed-” Her voice ceased. After a moment she went on again. “I got him to go into his room, and I went down and made him some tea. I took it in to him and got him to take it.” She looked at him with an earnest, direct gaze. “He wasn’t angry-he was just-heartbroken.”
“How long did you stay?”
“Not very long. I hoped he would go to sleep.”
“Well now, that brings us to Tuesday. Did you have any more conversation with him on the Tuesday?”
“He was out nearly all day.”
“But he came home in the evening. Did you have any talk with him then-at about seven o’clock in the evening, when he came to your room and asked you to give him something to make him sleep?”
Her eyes widened. After a moment she said,
“I gave him some aspirin-two tablets. He hadn’t slept.”