A gleam of rather bitter humor sparkled in Rachel’s eyes.
“I have no doubt of it. I am a wicked capitalist, and it would be a highly ethical action to relieve me of as much of this wicked capital as possible. ‘Liquidate it’ is, I believe, the expression which he would use. To be really logical, of course, I ought to be liquidated too-” She stopped short on a quick breath, and slowly, very slowly, her hand went up to her throat.
“We will not stress that point,” said Miss Silver, “But I think we will bear it in mind. Now with regard to Miss Comperton-I have some extremely unpleasant information for you. I have here particulars of various sums which you have from time to time extrusted to Miss Comperton for the benefit of certain charitable institutions. I have ascertained through an assistant who has made the necessary enquiries on my behalf that none of these charities has at any time received a larger donation from Miss Comperton than half-a-crown.”
Rachel leaned forward, resting her weight on the arms of her chair. That was what she was chiefly conscious of-weight. Feet cold and heavy as stone, limbs like lead, and a heart as heavy as grief itself.
“Ella?” she said.
Miss Silver said, “I am afraid so. The manner in which she immediately pressed me for a subscription made an unfavorable impression. Greed is a quality which it is very hard to dissemble. I discerned it plainly, and it suggested the advisability of making inquiries.”
“Is there anything else?” said Rachel.
“No-no-I think I may say not. But I would suggest that the time has come when you should inform your family of the fact that a murderous attempt was made upon you last night. I should like you to call them all together and tell them exactly what happened, and I should wish to be present.”
Rachel turned extremely pale.
“Just now-when I was going to tell Richard-you stopped me.”
“Certainly, Miss Treherne. It would have been giving him an advantage over the others. You were about to give him this advantage. You were, in point of fact, assuming his innocence. Now I want to say to you with the utmost gravity that you cannot afford to assume anyone’s innocence in this matter. I do not ask you to assume anyone’s guilt, but I do ask you in every case to adopt the same caution as if you were dealing with a person whom you knew to be guilty.”
“But that is horrible!”
“Murder is horrible,” said Miss Silver.
Chapter Twenty-four
Upon one pretext or another the family had been assembled in the drawing-room. Outside the day was dark and lowering. Within, though a bright fire burned on the hearth, there was a chill, a feeling of uneasiness.
Richard Treherne was the last to appear. They had waited for him in a silence which no one except Mabel seemed inclined to break. Cosmo Frith picked up the clock from the mantel-piece, remarked that it needed regulating, and busied himself with it.
“Cosmo can’t keep his hands off a clock,” Mabel complained. “I believe he winds his own every time he goes near it.” To which Miss Maud Silver replied that in her opinion clocks should be wound once a week and never touched in between.
Mabel Wadlow, who still reclined amongst her cushions and had apparently neither moved nor attempted to occupy herself, had welcomed her return with effusion. But before resuming her chair Miss Silver drew it back into line with the couch in such a manner as to command a view of Miss Comperton in the armchair on the right of the fire, Mr. Frith now standing fair and square in the middle of the hearth-rug with the Times held out at arm’s length before him, and Rachel Treherne leaning back in the armchair on the left.
Caroline Ponsonby had pulled a low stool close to Rachel. She sat forward with an elbow propped on her knee and her chin in her hand. She had so pale a look that no one could have called her pretty now. Miss Silver thought her very near the breaking-point, and permitted herself to wonder what would happen when it came.
Richard Treherne sat on the arm of Rachel’s chair. Miss Silver saw him stoop down and say a word in her ear, and she saw the answer too, a shake of the head.
Caroline looked round once, and then went on staring past Cosmo at the fire.
Ernest Wadlow brought a chair up to the sofa and leaned over his wife, asking her solicitously how she felt, and whether she had remembered to take her drops.
Miss Silver coughed, and, as if it had been a signal, Rachel Treherne spoke. She turned to Richard and said,
“Will you find yourself a chair? I have something rather serious to say.”
Richard did not start, but he was certainly startled. And there was nothing in that, for, apart from the words, neither Rachel’s voice nor her manner were natural. She was plainly putting a force upon herself. Perhaps even now she had Miss Silver’s words in her mind. Perhaps, instead of. assuming Richard’s innocence, she had for a horrible moment feared his guilt. Miss Silver saw the hand which lay upon her knee contract upon itself until the knuckles whitened. Then, as Richard moved to a chair on the other side of the hearth, she saw the hand relax.
The Times rustled as Cosmo turned a page. He said rather abstractedly,
“Well, my dear, here we are. Do you know-a most extraordinary thing-here’s a man Ferguson who was at school with me marrying a film star. Never heard of her, but they call her a star. The man must be off his head. I beg your pardon, Rachel-what were you going to say?”
“Something serious?” said Ernest Wadlow. He rumpled his hair and looked sideways over the tilted pince-nez. “I hope it is nothing-er-that is to say-nothing-” His voice trailed off without finishing the sentence.
Mabel raised herself on both hands until she was clear of her cushions and said in agitated accents.
“Something has happened to Maurice-I felt sure of it! Oh! Tell me quickly-is it an accident?”
“It’s nothing to do with Maurice,” said Rachel, and in the middle of saying it a shiver took her, because how did she know that it wasn’t Maurice’s hand that had pushed her over the cliff?
Mabel sank back, half sketched a palpitation, and then decided to postpone it until she knew what Rachel had really got to say.
Miss Silver looked at Ella Comperton, and found her nervous-oh dear, yes, decidedly nervous. She was picking at a little bag and missing the clasp, and when she found it, fumbling with it. When she did get it open, all the contents came tumbling out into her lap. The hand with which she extricated a handkerchief and pressed it to her nose was by no means steady. The nose twitched, the handkerchief twitched, the hand twitched. Miss Silver reflected, not for the first time in her career, that it must be very uncomfortable indeed to have a guilty conscience. She looked at Richard Treherne, and Richard said,
“What’s the matter, Rachel? I hope you don’t mean anything really serious.”
“I’m afraid I do.” Rachel was sitting up now with, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “I thought you ought to know-all of you-that something very serious did happen yesterday. I thought you ought to know.”
Miss Silver saw all the faces-all except Caroline’s, and Caroline’s face was turned away from her and turned towards Rachel. Miss Silver could see nothing of it. But the other faces showed her, surprise-that was Cosmo Frith; a grave attention-that was Richard; fear-yes, certainly fear- that was Ella Comperton; and a deepening of the lines of habitual worry-that was Ernest Wadlow. Mabel Wadlow’s expression remained a blend of fretful inquiry and her recent relief. If it wasn’t Maurice it didn’t really matter.
It was Richard who spoke again. He said,
“What ought we to know?”
Rachel looked round at them all. Then she said,
“Something happened-when I was coming back from Nanny’s. I said I had had a fall, and that was true. But it wasn’t all that happened. I didn’t fall on the patli-I fell over the cliff. And I fell over the cliff because someone pushed me.”