“Oh, just that the girl had dropped in to see them-that is, Jenny and Caroline Danesworth. They didn’t know she was going to be murdered of course. I suppose they’ll be wanted at the trial.”
He said carelessly, “I can’t think why.”
“Oh, just to fix the time she left the house, I should think. I got a whole dose of it this morning in the village.”
“The village? This village?”
“Oh well, I’m sure I told you about Mrs. Merridew being a cousin of Miss Crampton’s. You remember?”
“Yes, I remember. A little squit of a thing with poison under a honeyed tongue.”
“Yes, that’s her. But don’t let anyone hear you say it. Miss Crampton is very much respected.” She made an impatient gesture.
Mac stooped down and adjusted the log.
“I saw something about it in the papers. I didn’t really connect it with Jenny. Come to think of it, it’s better for her to be away for a bit if she’s going to be called up in a murder trial, though I don’t mind betting that Meg and Joyce will get on to it.”
“Good heavens, I hope not!”
He laughed.
“It’s a wise parent who knows what his children are thinking about! Do you suppose that you really knew anything at all about Alan and me when we were that age?”
Mrs. Forbes felt a cold touch of fear, she didn’t know why. The words were nothing, and the tone in which they were said was light enough, but something swept over her like a dark shadow. It was gone again almost before she had recognized it. It was nothing-nothing at all. She couldn’t think why for a moment there had been that frightening blackness. In a revulsion of her feeling she laughed.
“My dear boy, how ridiculous that sounds!”
“Does it? I don’t mind betting that what fathers and mothers don’t know about their children would fill more books than what they think they do know. I could tell you all sorts of things.” He pushed the log with his foot and a sudden flame shot up. “But I don’t think I will. It might keep you awake at night.”
Mrs. Forbes smiled rather vaguely. The mood that had touched her was so completely gone that she couldn’t even remember it. She was thinking about Jenny. It was a very good thing that she should be away, with a murder trial coming on. Only if she hadn’t been away she wouldn’t have been connected with the murder at all. If she had still been in Alington House, this young Mottingley might have murdered Miriam Richardson without its being more than a paragraph in the papers as far as they were concerned. She had no knowledge, no instinct, to tell her that if Jenny had not left this house which was her home, Miriam Richardson would be alive and well, going about her own ill-natured affairs, and Jimmy Mottingley would be in no worse prison than was provided by his guilty conscience.
The door opened and there came into the room Meg, full of purpose.
Mac was rather pleased to see her. He didn’t really want to discuss Jenny with his mother, nor did he wish to talk about the girl whom he had killed. He felt a strong cold resentment against her for having deceived him. For she had deceived him, and she had done it knowingly. He had spoken Jenny’s name before he struck, and it was because she had accepted his “Jenny-” that she was dead. He felt no remorse at all. She had asked for what she had got. She had pretended to be Jenny. Let her take the consequences.
He turned from the fire at the sound of the opening door and said, “Hullo, Meg!”
Meg was very pleased to see him. If he was in a good mood he could help her very much. Joyce was a fraidy cat. If she pulled it off she would crow over her. She ran up to Mac and took his hand. She must get in quick before Mother sent her away.
“Oh, Mac,” she said, “I’m so glad you’ve come! Mother, if Mac says we can have the kitten, we can, can’t we?”
Mac put out a hand to her.
“What’s all this about a kitten?”
“It’s Nurse’s. Her cat had three kittens. They’re the dearest little things, and she’s saved the best one for us. Mother said she’d think about it. Oh, we do want it so much!”
Mac laughed. He had Meg’s hands and was swinging her to and fro. Mrs. Forbes, watching them, thought how handsome he was, and how much like her family. The height, the fairness, they were all from her side. She forgot to be angry with Meg for bursting in. Her heart swelled with pride and devotion.
“Well, what about it? Are you going to have it-or not? What about it, Mother?”
Meg pulled her hands away from his and clasped them under her chin. She didn’t speak. Some instinct told her not to. If Mac asked for the kitten she would get it, but if she asked herself- A creeping fear came over her. If she stayed quite, quite still and left Mac to talk, perhaps Mother would let her have the kitten. Perhaps-oh, perhaps-
“Well, what about it?” said Mac.
Mrs. Forbes gave the laugh which she kept for him.
“Oh, well-” she said. “But I won’t have it till it is housetrained. Well, Meg, you may thank your brother Mac for that. Now go along back to the schoolroom. And I don’t want to see you again.”
Meg controlled her feelings. She had won! How she would crow over Joyce! But for now she must remember her manners. She said, “Thank you, Mac-thank you, Mother,” and gave an exhibition performance of a grateful child leaving the parental presence.
But the moment she was outside and the door safely shut the decorum vanished. She gave a little skipping dance of satisfaction, and then away up the stairs with her. Bursting breathlessly into the schoolroom where Joyce was sitting rather gloomily dressing her old doll Madeline in the new clothes which Jenny had made for her, she danced right round the table, snatching at Madeline and making her dance too.
“I’ve got him, I’ve got him!” she chanted. “He’s my own furry purry one. He’s not yours at all. Because you were a fraidy cat. You wouldn’t go down and ask for him. But I did-I did. And who do you think was there?”
“I don’t know,” said Joyce. “I wish you would give Madeline back, Meg. She doesn’t like being jumped about like that.”
“She does! You do, don’t you, Madeline? There-she said ‘Yes!’ I heard her! And she and Patrick will be great friends. I’m going to call him Patrick.”
“You said you were all along. Madeline’s tired. I wish you’d let her rest.”
“All right, here you are. She’s rather a stupid really. What has she got to be tired about?”
“She doesn’t know,” said Joyce in a mournful voice. “There doesn’t have to be a reason for being tired. I’m tired often-I’m tired now.”
Meg stopped dancing round the table.
“Oh, Joicey,” she said, “are you really? You’re not ill-tired, are you?”
Two big tears rolled down Joyce’s cheeks.
“I d-don’t th-think so,” she said.
Meg went down on her knees beside the chair and hugged her.
“Oh, Joicey, don’t be ill again! I don’t want you to be ill. Patrick shall be yours and mine. Perhaps he’ll be a little bit more mine than yours, because I did get him for us. Oh, Joyce, don’t cry! And we’ll think of all the things we can do with him. Shall we?”
Downstairs in the sitting-room Mrs. Forbes was saying,
“Have you seen Alan at all this week?”
“Alan? No, I haven’t. He was staying with those friends of his, wasn’t he?”
She said, “Yes.” She was frowning. “He’s gone off with the son. It’s all very sudden, and I don’t know what to think of it.”
“How do you mean, he’s gone off?”
“I mean just that.” She went over to the writing-table and stood there turning over the papers on it. “No, I can’t find his letter. I must have torn it up. Yes, I remember I did. I was so provoked. But now I’ve had time to think about it I’m not at all sure it isn’t the best thing.” She came back to the fire. “Mac, did you ever think Alan was in love with that girl?”