“When it transpired that the occasion of one of the blackmailing demands was a trifling incident which occurred a good many years ago at Ledlington, the possibility which I had been vaguely considering became a sharply outlined probability. Mrs. Simpson was, you see, the daughter of a Ledlington clergyman, the Reverend Geoffrey Arthur Deane. She was recently married to Mr. Simpson but still resident in Ledlington at the time of the occurrence I have mentioned. Some of her father’s parishioners were involved. The link was too significant to be accidental. I had now to consider the possibility that Mrs. Simpson was one of the residents in Vandeleur House. I had studied her history, and found that when hard pressed she had always saved herself by assuming a new identity. She had in turn impersonated her own brother, an old professor, a chorus girl, an exotic medium, a middle-aged secretary, and an eccentric spinster. With this in mind I reviewed everyone in Vandeleur House, and at once discarded Bell and Mrs. Smollett who were well known local characters, Mr. Drake on account of his height, and Mr. Willard whose credentials were quite unimpeachable. Mrs. Willard I rejected for the same reason. Mrs. Underwood and her connections were known personally to friends of my own. Miss Garside and Mrs. Lemming were of a physical type impossible for Mrs. Simpson to imitate, both having the regular features which no amount of make-up can counterfeit. Miss Lemming I did not consider at all.” Here Miss Silver paused for a moment and smiled at Agnes Drake. “Goodness, like classical features, is not to be imitated. I was therefore left with Mrs. Meredith’s household, and Ivy Lord. Mrs. Simpson, at forty years of age, would certainly not be able to pass for a girl of eighteen. There remained Mrs. Meredith, her companion, and her maid. When I discovered the connection with Tunbridge Wells the obvious course was to go down there and make enquiries.”
“I hope,” said Nicholas Drake, “that I shall never have a secret which you have set yourself to find out.”
Miss Silver smiled benignly.
“Happiness is a secret which should be shared, not hidden,” she observed.
“What did you find out at Tunbridge Wells?” said Giles Armitage. “The balloon went up before you had time to tell us what you did there.”
“It was really very simple,” said Miss Silver. “I telephoned to the leading house agent, and having discovered the name of Mrs. Meredith’s former residence, I paid one or two calls upon the neighbouring houses. A Miss Jenkins who had lived next door for about fifteen years was particularly helpful, though I must confess that for the first twenty minutes or so it seemed as if I was to have my journey for nothing. Miss Jenkins, as well as a Mrs. Black whom I had already interviewed, spoke in the warmest possible terms about Miss Crane-so kind, so conscientious, so devoted to Mrs. Meredith. When I asked how long the association had lasted, she told me that it was already of long standing fifteen years ago when she made their acquaintance. It was only as I was rising to go that she sighed and said she really did not know what Mrs. Meredith would do without her faithful Miss Crane, and a great pity she had not stayed among her old friends, whose society would have done something to make up for the loss. A few questions brought to light the astonishing fact that the devoted Miss Crane had passed away about six months previously. Mrs. Meredith and she had gone up to London on a short visit. They stayed in a family hotel which Mrs. Meredith had patronised for years, and whilst there Miss Crane was found dead in her bed, having taken an overdose of some sleeping mixture. I have not the slightest doubt that she was murdered by Mrs. Simpson, who was in urgent need of a change of identity. It is now quite certain that she was the principal in the Mayfair blackmail case, and that it was necessary for her to disappear. It was by no means the first time that she had done this. The method was very simple. Some middle-aged woman of no importance and without relatives was selected, and removed. There is very little fuss made about the death of such a person, since none of the ordinary motives for foul play are discernible. Mrs. Meredith was naturally in the greatest distress. When Mrs. Simpson presented herself as a cousin of her beloved companion she was received with open arms and with no difficulty at all persuaded to take the dead woman’s place. What followed is still a little obscure, but Mrs. Meredith speaks of a visit from a doctor who advised a course of treatment which would necessitate her being within reach. He also told her that the air of Tunbridge Wells was very bad for her. There is no doubt, I think, that he was not a genuine medical man but an accomplice of Mrs. Simpson’s. Mrs. Meredith was persuaded to sell her house. She never returned to Tunbridge Wells. The new companion acquired an unbounded influence over her. A very respectable maid who had been with her for some years was got rid of and Packer engaged to take her place. This woman’s real name is Phoebe Dart. She figured in the Denny case, but disappeared and was never traced. She had been nurse in the Reverend Geoffrey Deane’s household, and Mrs. Simpson’s influence over her has always been complete. The party moved to Vandeleur House, and from this safe retreat the blackmailing activities were continued. When the police searched the flat they found all the evidence they required.”
“What did you really think we were going to find?” said Frank Abbott. “And did you know, or were gambling?”
Miss Silver gave him a glance of mild reproach.
“That is not an expression which I should choose,” she said. “On my return from Tunbridge Wells I saw the Chief Inspector at Scotland Yard. At that time I was tolerably certain that a search of Mrs. Meredith’s flat would discover the fair wig and the smart black clothes worn by the woman who visited Miss Garside at tea-time on the day of her death. I thought it more than likely that there would be other disguises, and some compromising papers. On my return to Vandeleur House I confronted Ivy Lord with the evidence which I possessed. She then told me what I had already guessed, that, instigated by Miss Roland, she had entered several of the flats at night, using the fire-escape and the ledges which run round the house. She said she rather enjoyed doing it, and if she had been seen, there was a genuine history of sleep-walking to get her off. She had not, of course, the least idea that there was anything serious involved. She said Miss Roland told her that someone had been playing a practical joke and she wanted to get even. They quarrelled over the letter which Ivy found on her second visit to Mrs. Meredith’s flat. She took it from the drawer in which many similar letters were afterwards discovered, and she selected this one because she knew the writer. She showed it to Miss Roland, but she did not mean her to keep it. She said she did not think it would be right. In the quarrel that followed, a corner of the letter got torn off. This afterwards furnished me with an important clue.”