“Nearly four years of German rule, Philip.”
“It would take more than four grown-up years to produce this woman who is pretending to be Anne. Just take a look at what has produced her. Her father was old Ambrose’s illegitimate son. But he only just missed being legitimate. If Anne’s grandmother had died a month sooner, there’s no doubt at all that Uncle Ambrose would have married his Mrs. Joyce, and young Roger would have been Sir Roger. As it was, the old man didn’t even bother to sign his will, and Annie didn’t inherit anything except a grievance. When she was fifteen Theresa tried to foist her on the family. I don’t suppose their very natural reactions helped the grievance to fade out. For the next seven years or so she was at Theresa’s beck and call. Very unstable sort of person, my cousin Theresa-the wretched girl would never know where she was with her. She’d be petted one minute, and snubbed the next-she’d always have to watch her step-she’d always have to think before she spoke-she simply couldn’t afford to lose her temper. She served a seven-years’ apprenticeship for Theresa’s money, and Theresa diddled her. Don’t you think the original grievance must have done some growing by the time it came to that? Don’t you think you’d get just the kind of woman who might think up a plan for getting her own back?”
“Quite persuasive. But it’s not an easy job impersonating someone. Of course it’s been done, and it will be done again, but there are a lot of pitfalls. In this case Annie Joyce would, of course, be quite familiar with all the family history, and with all the family photographs. Miss Jocelyn was an indefatigable gossip. She probably knew as much family tittle-tattle as anyone, and what she knew Annie would know. They stayed here too, didn’t they?”
“They did-for a week. Theresa insisted on bringing her. I was in my last term at school, so I missed the row, but I gather that Theresa surpassed herself. My father was livid, and my mother spent all her time picking up the bits-in fact, a pleasant time was had by all.”
“Quite so-rather hard on the child.”
Philip smiled, not too pleasantly.
“Well, there you have it. She had a week to memorize everything-the first big house she had ever been into, the first time she had ever been in the country. I remember my mother telling me that. Well, don’t you suppose it would stick? Those sort of impressions are strong, and they last. Miss Joyce finds her way with perfect ease all over the house and garden.”
“Oh, she does, does she?”
“That impresses you? It doesn’t impress me. I stayed with the McLarens in a shooting-box in the Highlands when I was fifteen-the same age as Annie Joyce when she came here. I’d back myself to find my way over it blindfold now, and I haven’t had the advantage of a refresher course-Annie Joyce has. Anne was three months at the château. I don’t say this was planned then-it couldn’t have been-but if you remember Theresa, you can imagine how she would have pumped Anne about everything.”
Mr. Codrington nodded.
“I agree that Annie Joyce would be in a better position to produce corroborative detail than most of the classic claimants have been. I gather that she is in possession of Anne’s fur coat and going-away dress, her pearls, wedding and engagement rings, also her passport and identity card. How do you account for that?”
Philip continued to walk up and down.
“I told them to get their valuables. Anne came down with the handbag that woman has got-it was one of her wedding presents. The papers and the jewelry must have been in it. One of the girls was carrying the fur coat-I ought to be able to remember which of them, but I can’t.”
“Unfortunately.” Mr. Codrington’s tone was dry.
Philip swung round on him.
“Look here, if I was lying I’d say Annie had it, wouldn’t I? I just can’t remember. All I do know is that Anne hadn’t got it when I carried her to the boat. If Pierre or Annie had it they could have got it back to the château. If Annie was as cold as she says she was she probably wore it. Pierre had a couple of suit-cases. I don’t know what happened to them. It was pitch-dark, and the Boche shooting at us. Anne was hit right away. Annie may have picked up the handbag, or she may have had it all along-I can’t say.”
“I see. There’s really no evidence there. It would cut either way. What about handwriting?”
Philip said gloomily, “She’s had three and a half years to practice Anne’s writing. It looks pretty good to me. I don’t know what an expert would say.”
“Juries don’t like experts.”
Philip nodded.
“I’ve always thought they did a good deal of hard swearing myself.”
“Juries distrust technicalities.”
Philip came over to the writing-table and sat down on the corner.
“For God’s sake don’t go on talking about juries! This woman isn’t Anne, and we’ve got to get her to admit it. She is Annie Joyce, and I want you to tell her that as Annie Joyce she is in my opinion entitled to Theresa Jocelyn’s thirty thousand pounds. I told Anne that I wouldn’t let her keep the money, and I told you after Anne’s death that I had no intention of keeping it myself unless I was sure Annie Joyce was dead. Well, she isn’t dead-she’s in the parlour with Lyndall. They are probably going through Aunt Milly’s collection of snapshots.” Mr. Codrington exclaimed, and Philip laughed. “They started on them last night. It was most tactfully done. ‘Dear Aunt Milly, have you been able to keep up your photography at all? Oh, yes-do let me see! You don’t know how starved I’ve been for a familiar face!’ And if they weren’t familiar before, you can bet she’s getting them by heart as quickly as she can.”
Mr. Codrington said quickly, “Why did you allow it? It shouldn’t have been allowed.”
Philip shrugged.
“A good deal of it happened before I came. Lyn’s following her round like a dog. Thinks I’m-” His voice changed, dropped almost to inaudibility. “I don’t know what she thinks.”
Mr. Codrington drummed on his knee.
“Mrs. Armitage ought to have had more sense.”
Philip got up and walked away.
“Oh, you can’t blame Aunt Milly. She and Lyn hadn’t a doubt-until I came. Aunt Milly is shaken now-at least I hope she is. But Lyn-” He turned round and came back.
“We’ve got right away from the point. I want you to go into the parlour and tell that woman she can have Theresa’s thirty thousand down on the nail for a nice safe legal receipt signed Annie Joyce.”
CHAPTER 7
Lyndall came out of the parlour and shut the door behind her. For a moment there was a little relief, an illusory feeling of escape. And then Philip came down at the top of his angry stride and took her by the arm and marched her off.
When he had slammed the study door he leaned against it and said,
“Now you’re for it! What are you playing at?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re making a damned fool of yourself!”
Words sprang to her lips but were not allowed to pass them. They horrified her so much that she turned even whiter than she had been before, because she had so nearly said, “I wish I were.” Philip had said she was making a fool of herself, and she had almost said, “I wish I were.” And that would mean she wished that Anne had not come back to trouble them. She couldn’t wish that-she couldn’t ever wish that!
Philip looked at her with what she thought was contempt.
“You’re a damned little fool!” he said. “You’ve done your level best to queer my pitch, you know. What are you doing it for?”