“Yes, but— Oh, well, I suppose, then, you are not the people who fixed the geyser at that convent near Blacklock Tor? I read the report in the newspapers, and almost decided upon an electric heater instead of something with gas, except that one hears extraordinary stories, just the same, about those.”
“That was nothing to do with the water-heater, madam, that anything happened to the girl. I can answer for that. We fixed it ourselves, and the appliance was fully tested before it was ever used.”
“Well, the child died, anyhow, didn’t she? And I can’t take risks. I may be having young nephews and nieces to stay.”
“But, madam, there really is not the slightest danger, I can assure you. The case you are referring to was very unfortunate, but no fault of ours whatever.”
“Something must have got out of order, though, mustn’t it?”
“The little girl’s brain was out of order. That’s the truth, as, if you have read the case, you ought to know.”
“Yes, but—”
“Look here,” said the young man suddenly, “I tell you nothing was wrong at all with the apparatus. We sent our fitters the very same afternoon, as soon as we got the ’phone call from the convent, and I could show you their report. Everything was in order. We’re going to publish the report. It’s damaging when people get ideas that the apparatus must have been out of order. The only thing that could possibly have happened, unless the girl inhaled gas direct from the pilot burner, was this; supposing she’d loosened a joint, either in the gas-pipe or in the flue-pipe—anybody who could handle a pair of pliers or a fitter’s pipe-grips or a footprint wrench could manage to do that, and they learn all about these things at girls’ schools nowadays —my young sister learns it in domestic science lessons. Well, if a joint got loosened, she’d breathe enough carbon monoxide in a very short time to render her unconscious, and probably kill her. Then the inference is that somebody else got in and turned off the gas. I’ve thought a lot about this case—everybody talks about it round here—and so far as we are concerned there’s been no negligence.”
“How could anybody turn off the gas if it was not known that the joint had been loosened? I don’t follow your argument there.”
“I know. That’s just where it’s funny.”
“You can’t explain that, then?”
“No. I can’t. Well, I could. Do you know that word they use on the pictures—?”
“You mean—?” said Mrs. Bradley, looking startled.
“I’m not going to say what I mean. I thought it out for myself, and so can other people.” He returned to his first manner rather abruptly, as though he had given away secrets. “Now, madam, if you like a nice, clean-looking model which will fit any scheme of decoration in your bathroom, I would advise this number, carried out in either cream or silver. The finish—”
He took her all round the showroom, talking without cessation, and gave her various leaflets. Mrs. Bradley finished up with a gas poker as a present for Mrs. Waller, who had said that she should like one, and with a very vague undertaking to think over the question of installing a geyser in her house. She had arrived at the young man’s theory very easily, and had taxed him with it whilst she was buying the poker. He thought that the convent, hoping to get the doctor to sign a certificate so that an inquest could be avoided, had put right the joint that the child had tampered with before the gas-fitter and his mate had arrived.
“Do them a lot of harm, a girl committing suicide like that,” he added, having admitted that Mrs. Bradley’s guess was correct. “They’d sooner blame it on to us as accident. There doesn’t always have to be an inquest when that’s the case. We assume no responsibility, and they can’t bring a court case, you see.”
Mrs. Bradley gave Mrs. Waller’s name and address, so that the gas poker could be sent, and, having got back to the car, told George to hurry.
“Lunch, madam?” said George.
“Good heavens, George! I’d forgotten all about it. Are you hungry?”
“No, madam, but it is now past one o’clock. I find that the Crown and Quest is reputed a very good inn.”
chapter 5
orphans
“Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment
House and home thy friends provide;
All without thy care or payment;
All thy wants are well supplied.”
isaac watts: A Cradle Hymn.
« ^ »
By daylight the convent looked different—bigger, but not so grim; shut away from intruders, but not so starkly withdrawn. The car drew up at the guest-house entrance at just after half-past three, and Mrs. Bradley was admitted by a very neatly-dressed girl in cap and apron.
The room into which she was shown was simply furnished, but the chairs were comfortable, there were daffodils in glass vases on the table and on the bookcase, and the floor was carpeted. An open grate at one end of the room, and a portable gas-fire, attached to a snake-like flex, at the side of it, gave promise of comfort in cold weather. A picture of Saint Ursula and her eleven thousand virgins, not all of whom were depicted, hung on the wall above the mantelpiece. The room had gas lighting, and there were candles on a side table.
“If you please, madam, I am to ask you to do exactly as you like. Reverend Mother Superior sends her compliments by Mother Saint Jude, and Mother Saint Francis is in school at the moment, but can be fetched if you would like to talk to her,” said the girl, coming back and curtsying.
“And who are you, child?” Mrs. Bradley enquired.
“If you please, madam, I am Annie, the eldest orphan.”
“And do you know, Annie, why I’m here?”
“Oh, yes, madam. Bessie and me have both been told, because we’re to wait on you specially.” She smiled, and added, “And, madam, we are so glad, because you’re really somebody from outside.”
“Outside?”
“Yes, madam. Not a priest, or a relation of one of the private school children, or anybody connected.”
“I see. Well, Annie, the first person I ought to talk to is you yourself.”
“Oh, madam!” She twisted her apron between her fingers, noticed quickly what she was doing, and smoothed it out again.
“Yes. Sit down and let’s begin. Did you know the little girl who died?”
“No, madam, not to say know her. I believe I had seen her about, but we have very little to do with the private school children, even the boarders, and only meet them adventitious. ”
“I see. Who cleaned that particular bathroom, Annie?”
“Me and Kitty, and other times me and Maggie, or, it might be, Kitty and Bessie. It all depends.”
“Which days?”
“Why, every day, madam. Every morning at half-past ten.”
“Did you notice a smell of gas in the bathroom last Monday?”
This question, put to test Annie’s degree of suggestibility, evoked no reply for a minute. Then the girl answered,
“It would be easy enough, madam, now I think it over, to say that I did smell gas, but, honestly, madam, I didn’t, and Mother Saint Ambrose can’t shake me on that, for I know well enough that I didn’t, and Mother Saint Ambrose wouldn’t want me to lie. I reckon all that anybody smelt was the creosote.”
“Did Mother Saint Ambrose say that she knew there would be an inquest?”
“Not to me, madam. She wouldn’t be likely to say such a thing to me.”
“How long have you lived here, Annie?”
“Since I was nine and a half. Father was killed on the line—he was a platelayer, he was—and mother went on the drink and took up with a horse-racing man.”
“Do you like the convent life, Annie?”
“Oh, madam, yes, I do. But I can’t stay on after May unless I become a lay-sister, but Mother Saint Jude and Mother Saint Ambrose don’t seem to see me like that.”