Jimmy put up a finger and rubbed his nose.
“I don’t know-I don’t remember. I don’t believe I noticed them-I wasn’t thinking of things like coffee cups.”
“Well, there must have been a time when you began to think about them-at least about your own, because you picked it up and drank the coffee. You did, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I drank it. The cup was on the table by my chair.”
“You remember that. Well, how did it get there? And when did it get there?”
Jimmy shook his head.
“I don’t know. It was there and I drank it.”
“Was it there before the others came in from the terrace?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t go and sit down in my chair till after they all came in.”
“What were you doing?”
“I was over by the paper-table turning over the papers.”
“With your back to the room?”
“Yes-I suppose so.”
Antony said in an exasperated voice,
“Don’t you remember anything?”
“I remember that the coffee was on the table by my chair, and that I drank it. I don’t remember anything else.”
“You mean it was there when you eventually went to your chair and sat down?”
“I suppose it was.”
Antony controlled himself.
“You don’t remember?”
“I don’t remember anything, except that I drank the coffee. It’s no good badgering me. I wasn’t thinking about what was going on-I wasn’t noticing. I was trying to think what I was going to do-”
“Do?”
Jimmy nodded.
“About Lois. We couldn’t go on. I had to think-to make up my mind-”
Antony caught him by the arm.
“For God’s sake don’t say that sort of thing to the police!”
“Well, you asked me. That’s what I was thinking about. I didn’t notice anything until I picked up the cup, so it’s no use worrying me about how it got there.” He paused, ran a hand through his hair, and said with a kind of absent-minded irrelevance, “They’re having the inquest tomorrow afternoon-at the Bull.”
CHAPTER 33
Some time in the afternoon Miss Silver again requested a few words with Julia Vane. She had, as a matter of fact, contrived to have a few words with several other members of the family either before or after lunch. She found Julia in the old schoolroom alone. Coming in with her knitting-bag on her arm, she closed the door and remarked brightly upon the pleasant view from the windows and the number of familiar books upon the shelves.
“Charlotte Yonge-how perfectly she recreated the mid-Victorian period. Lifelike in the extreme. No one has ever presented with such fidelity those large families which are now, alas, a thing of the past. Really most vivid. The Heir of Redclyffe is rather too sad, but the many tears which were shed for that poor young man are certainly a tribute to her art. I must own to a preference for a happy ending, but one cannot cavil when so much faith and courage are inculcated. One day I believe that Miss Yonge will be admitted as the equal of Trollope, if not his superior. Will you not sit down, Miss Vane?”
Julia did so. Since the day had to be got through somehow, it didn’t seem to matter very much whether she gazed idly from a window or discussed Victorian novelists with Miss Silver. Antony had taken Jimmy for a tramp. Ellie had gone over to see Ronnie Street. Minnie, she hoped, was lying down. She took the nearest chair and raised tragic eyes.
The preference which she had just expressed for happy endings induced Miss Silver to return the look with a very kind one.
“All this is very trying,” she said. “Pray do not think me unsympathetic if I ask you once more to tax your memory for some details about Wednesday evening.”
“I don’t think there is anything more to tell you.”
Miss Silver coughed.
“Perhaps not. In the course of my professional experience I have found that those nearest to a tragedy do almost invariably know more than they have told. Sometimes what they do not tell is held back of design because they are afraid that if it is told it will injure someone whom they love. Sometimes they do not realize that they have anything to tell. In the present case it is certain that some knowledge is being withheld. I do not say why it is being withheld, or who is withholding it. I do not know. But I am quite sure that here in this house, there are, let us say, scraps and fragments of knowledge which, brought together, would provide a solution of a tragic problem. I am going to ask you to let me have any such fragments as you may possess. Pray do not withhold anything because you are afraid. Fear is not a satisfactory motive.”
Julia’s eyes had remained fixed upon her: She said,
“I don’t think I am keeping anything back.”
Miss Silver had begun to knit.
“We will see. I am anxious to have as much information as possible about the state of Mrs. Latter’s mind on Wednesday evening.”
“I didn’t see her between lunch and supper.”
“Did she come straight down into the dining-room?”
“Yes. Ellie rang the bell and I came out of my room. Lois caught me up on the stairs and we went down together.”
“How did she seem? Depressed-nervous?”
“Not in the least. She seemed just as usual.”
“You must remember that I had not the pleasure of her acquaintance. Will you do your best to give me an idea of her usual manner?”
Julia frowned.
“I didn’t like her,” she said bluntly-“I expect you know that. You’ve seen her photographs. She was very good-looking. Everything about her was very finished-her hair, her skin, her nails-her manner. Everything in perfect control. If I’m cross or rude, it’s because I’m tired, or I’m unhappy, or I’m angry. If I quarrel with anyone, it just happens. Lois wasn’t like that. If she was rude, it was because she meant to be rude. Things didn’t just happen with her-she made them happen. I daresay I’m not being fair to her-you can’t really be fair when you dislike anyone. I looked at her through my dislike. I’m telling you how I saw her.”
Miss Silver gazed thoughtfully in her direction.
“Control?”
Julia nodded.
“Yes-all the time. I don’t think she ever let up.”
Miss Silver coughed.
“She caught you up on the stairs. Had you any conversation with her?”
“She talked about Jimmy.”
“Will you tell me exactly what she said-word for word if you can?”
Julia pushed back her hair. The scene rose in her mind, a picture on a lighted screen. Lois catching her up. Lois talking about Jimmy. The words spoke themselves again. She repeated them.
“She said, ‘Another lively meal. You’ll have to help us through. You know, I’m really worried about Jimmy. We’ve had a row. Everybody in the house must know that by now, the way he’s advertizing it.’ I said something-I don’t know what it was. And she said, ‘He looks awful. I’ve never seen him like this before-have you?’ I said, ‘Not quite so bad,’ and she said, ‘Well, I wish he’d come off it. It’s giving me the creeps-’ ” She stopped.
Miss Silver said, “Was that all?”
“Yes.”
“At that time were you aware of the reason for the quarrel between them? Did you know of the scene in Mr. Antony Latter’s room on Monday night?”
“No.”
“You thought it was an ordinary quarrel?”
“I thought it was about old Hodson’s cottage. Lois had been telling a lot of lies to get him out of it, and Jimmy had found her out. Hodson stopped him in the road and told him. I was there.”
“You thought that was enough to account for the breach between them?”