“Well?”
“She kept both her and Lady Jocelyn in sight until the latter hailed a passing taxi. I think there is no doubt that she came straight back to this flat. The girl turned round and retraced her steps. Emma followed her, but unfortunately lost sight of her a little later at a crowded corner. When she got through the crowd herself-she is elderly and rather stout-the girl was nowhere to be seen. She may have gone into a shop, or she may have got on a bus.”
“What street was this?”
Miss Silver told him, and Frank Abbott wrote it down. She continued.
“Later on, after tea, I rang Lady Jocelyn up.”
“Why did you do that?”
“On thinking the matter over carefully I had come to the conclusion that if she was being shadowed, it was in all probability at the instance of someone other than the police. When I asked myself to whose interest it would be to keep her under observation, the answer was quite simple. I had reason to believe that she had illegal associates-I found it quite impossible to accept the conclusions of the police with regard to the death of Miss Collins-and it occurred to me that if her associates, already sufficiently distrustful to have her watched, were to believe that she had formed the intention of approaching me, she would be in very grave danger. My name is not known to the public, but, especially since the Harsch case, it may have become known to those with whom Lady Jocelyn was entangled. After thinking the matter over I decided to warn her. If she had any intention of abandoning her associates, I felt that she should be encouraged to do so.”
“Well, you rang her up. What did she say?”
Miss Silver shook her head gravely.
“Her mood had altered. She assumed a confident tone and declared that she did not know what I was talking about. I offered to come and see her, and there was, I believe, a moment when she hesitated, but in the end she rang off quickly. I think she was afraid, but I think she had made up her mind to go through with what she was doing.”
Lamb got to his feet with a grunt.
“Well, it doesn’t get us much farther, does it?”
CHAPTER 32
Lilla Jocelyn went out after lunch to the canteen at which she worked as a voluntary helper. Pelham Trent, after seeing her off, came back into the room.
“Do you mind if I stay for a minute or two?”
Lyndall said, “No,” and didn’t know whether she was telling the truth or not. She wanted to be alone, and she was afraid of being alone. She wanted to mourn for Anne who was dead, but she didn’t know just how truly she could mourn. If she were alone she could think herself back to the old days when Anne was one of the three people she loved most on earth. A warm feeling of sorrow welled up in her, melting away the cold sense of shock. Yes, she must be alone. She lifted her eyes to Pelham Trent, and he saw that they were bright with tears.
“You ought to rest,” he said quickly. “You won’t try and go out or do anything, will you? I’m sure you ought to rest.”
She said, “Yes, I will.” And then, “I wish we knew something more. Lilla doesn’t know who she was speaking to, and the man who answered didn’t tell her anything-only that Anne was dead. Do you think it was an accident? I had tea with her the day before yesterday-she was quite well then.” She kept her eyes on him as she spoke, the tears shining, something strained and piteous about her look.
He said, “My dear-I’m sorry-it’s been a shock. Would you like me to go round and find out for you? It’s only five minutes’ walk.”
“I don’t know…No-Philip mightn’t like it.” She put up a hand and pushed back her hair. “You’re very kind.”
He shook his head.
“I needn’t go up to the flat, you know. If Jocelyn’s there he won’t want to be bothered. I could ask the porter-but, no-that wouldn’t do.”
Lyndall said, “No.” And then, “I’ll ring up. We are relations-we’ve got a right to know. Philip wouldn’t mind.”
It was Sergeant Abbott who answered her ring, but she wasn’t to know that. He was just a voice-the sort of voice that might have belonged to any of Philip’s friends. He said, “Just a moment, Miss Armitage.” She heard his steps going away, then men’s voices, and the steps coming back.
“Are you speaking from Mrs. Jocelyn’s flat?”
“Yes-she had to go out. Will you please tell me what has happened to Anne? It’s so dreadful not knowing.”
Frank Abbott reflected cynically that it might be a great deal more dreadful to know. He said,
“You know she’s dead?”
“Yes.”
“Sir Philip Jocelyn told you that?”
“Yes-but not how it happened-please-”
“I am afraid you must be prepared for a shock. She was found shot.”
“Oh-” It was just a long, soft breath. And then, “Did she-shoot herself?”
“No-someone shot her.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
She said, “Who are you?” in a wondering voice.
“Detective Sergeant Abbott. The police are in charge here.”
After a pause she said, “Is Philip there?”
“No.”
She said, “Oh-” again.
After a moment she hung up the receiver and turned round to Pelham Trent, her face quite drained of colour.
“Pelham-”
“I know-I heard what he said. What a dreadful thing! Here, come and sit down.”
She let him put her into a chair and leaned back in it. After a moment she said,
“Dreadful for Philip-dreadful for her-poor Anne-” Her voice went, a violent shudder ran over her.
After looking at her with frowning intensity Trent walked away to the far end of the room.
As far as she could feel anything just then, she felt relief. She had the shocked creature’s desire to creep away into a dark place and be alone. But she couldn’t do that. Behind the sense of shock she was aware of Philip. What she did and what she said now were going to matter to Philip. She had a sense of fear for him, and a great longing to help. She tried to focus her mind, to get things clear. This absorbed her so deeply that she did not notice Pelham Trent’s return until she heard his voice.
“Lyn-you’re all right-you’re not faint?”
“I’m all right-” Her tone was vague. She was coming back from a long way off.
He took a chair, pulled it close to her, and sat down.
“Lyndall, will you please listen. I hate to bother you now, but we can’t count on your being left alone. If this is murder, the police may be here at any moment. It was most unfortunate that Lilla should have mentioned Jocelyn’s coming here and saying what he did. And it’s doubly unfortunate that she should have told the police it was said to you. They’ll want to know why he came here-why he told you his wife was dead-why he went away in a hurry as soon as he found that Lilla and I were here. I’m bound to tell you that in a case of this sort a husband or wife is always under suspicion. At the very least there will be talk, publicity. You’ve got to be kept clear of it, for Jocelyn’s sake as well as your own. This murder coining on the top of all the talk about Anne Jocelyn’s return-well, my dear, you can see for yourself. If the police get it into their heads that Philip Jocelyn is fond of you, or that there’s anything between you, it will be just about the most disastrous thing that could happen-for him. You’ve got to be very careful indeed. Philip and Anne Jocelyn were your cousins, and you were very fond of them both-that’s your line. You were her bridesmaid-remember to bring that in. And-oh, my dear, don’t look at them the way you’re looking at me.”