Miss Silver had picked up her knitting. She said,
‘Certainly, Mr. Eversley. I will just go and pack my things.’
While he was driving her out to Underhill Stephen was a good deal more explicit than he had thought it prudent to be in front of his Cousin Louisa. What she heard from other sources was beyond his control, but Miss Olivia’s monstrous accusation would not reach her through him. With Miss Silver there could be no concealments.
‘She has gone mad of course. I suppose it’s the shock or something, but she actually accuses Candida of Miss Cara’s death. You see, the police don’t think it’s an accident, and Miss Olivia is pretending to believe that Candida is in some way responsible. That is why she won’t stay in the house. And honestly, I’m thankful to feel that she isn’t there. If she is insane enough to think that Candida would harm Miss Cara, she is quite mad enough to be dangerous herself.’ Miss Silver said in a very composed voice, ‘Will you tell me just what happened, Mr. Eversley?’
‘That’s just it – I don’t know – nobody seems to. The maid, Anna, found Miss Cara lying at the foot of the stairs at seven o’clock this morning. The back of her head was injured, and she had been dead for some time. But she was lying on her face. Her own doctor and the police surgeon both say that she couldn’t have moved after an injury like that, and that it couldn’t have been caused by the fall. Miss Olivia is saying that Candida pushed her over the stairs, but quite apart from its being an insanely wicked thing to say, it makes nonsense in the face of the medical evidence. That is really all I know. I gather there had been rows, one with Candida and one with Derek Burdon, but she didn’t want to talk about it on the telephone.’
Miss Silver inclined her head in approval.
‘It is always better to say too little than too much.’
Chapter Twenty-eight
Miss silver had seen Candida Sayle across the drawing-room at the Deanery, her eyes bright, her colour high and pure. She had met her when the Miss Benevents brought her up to be introduced to Louisa Arnold, and she had admired the tone of her voice and her warm response to what Louisa had to say about her grandmother, the earlier Candida after whom she had been named. She took an interest in girls, and she had thought Candida Sayle a very charming one. She saw her now in the black dress which she had worn for Barbara, the bright colour all gone, the eyes with a look of strain that was painful to see. But the breeding held. Her thanks to Miss Silver for coming, her welcome, were all that the most exacting standard could demand.
The comfortable bedroom that had been prepared was next to her own. The bed, Miss Silver was glad to observe, was quite modern, and it was being warmed by two hot water-bottles. A small electric fire had been lighted. Her experience of country houses had not encouraged any great hope of such attentions, and while perfectly ready to do without them in the cause of duty, it was pleasant to find that they had been provided.
The evening passed as such evenings do. There was a meal prepared by Anna. There was conversation, supplied mainly by Miss Silver herself, and by Derek Burdon. Stephen had returned to Retley, Miss Silver applauding the good taste which dictated this course of action. Underhill might now have passed to Candida Sayle, but it was not for him or for her to obtrude that fact. Since Stephen had not been received there as a visitor by the Miss Benevents, both tact and breeding suggested that he should not immediately avail himself of so tragic a change in their circumstances.
Later Miss Silver had an opportunity of talking to Anna Rossi and to Derek Burdon. Both appeared to be more than willing. To Anna, her face swollen and her eyes red with weeping, it was an obvious relief to pour out everything she knew. There was no Miss Olivia there to check her, no Joseph to fix her with the look she so much resented or to say as he so often did, ‘Anna, you talk too much.’ After all, one had been given a tongue to use, and when terrible things happened, what was there to do except to let the tears spill out of your eyes and the words out of your mouth? If you did not weep, if you did not speak, the very heart dried up in you and you might as well be dead. The tears gushed afresh as she imparted these views to the little visiting lady who was so sympathetic, and who had come to take care of Miss Candida.
Derek also obliged with every appearance of frankness. Talking had never presented any difficulties to him, and like so many other people he found Miss Maud Silver quite extraordinarily easy to talk to. She listened, she made sympathetic reply, she maintained an interested and encouraging manner.
The opportunity for a conversation with Candida Sayle came when they went upstairs together at the end of the evening. To Candida it seemed as if the hours of that day had become lengthened out like shadows seen at sunset, until the time before she knew that Miss Cara was dead appeared to be indefinitely removed from this moment when she went with Miss Silver into her room and hoped that she had everything she wanted. Any hostess to any guest – But Miss Silver’s response was not quite that of any guest to any hostess. She laid a hand on Candida’s arm and said in her kindest voice,
‘Oh, yes, indeed. But I am just wondering whether you are too tired to give me the opportunity of talking to you for a little.’
Colour came into Candida’s face. She had a quick realisation that the pressure of her own thoughts was no longer to be endured. With Stephen gone, there was no one to whom she could unburden herself – unless it was to this stranger. She said,
‘No, no, of course not. It was so very good of you to come. I wouldn’t have asked you, but Stephen just did it. He said I couldn’t stay here alone – it would make talk. You see, none of us knew what Aunt Olivia was going to do until she had done it. At least Joseph and Anna must have known, but she kept Anna in her room packing up her things, and she took Joseph with her. It wasn’t until after five o’clock that we knew she had gone. Joseph took the cases down. Then he brought the car round to the side door and picked her up. Anna had been forbidden to say anything until they had gone. I didn’t know what I ought to do. If Aunt Olivia felt she couldn’t stay on in the same house as me, then I was the one who ought to have gone. I tried to get on to Stephen, but he wasn’t back. Derek said he wouldn’t stay if I went. You see, Aunt Olivia was saying all sorts of things about both of us, and there are a lot of valuable things in the house. He said we ought to ring up the police and ask them what to do about it, so we did, and the Inspector said I ought to stay. And then I got on to Stephen, and he said he would ask you to come.’
Miss Silver had seated herself. Candida took the chair on the other side of the fire and leaned forward.
‘Stephen says you know a good deal already – about my aunts, and Alan Thompson, and everything. It all seems to go a long way back.’
Miss Silver had taken up her knitting. A grey stocking depended from the needles. It was the last of the set, and it was nearly finished. She said,
‘It is always difficult to know where things begin. There are causes which lie a very long way back. There are jealousies, resentments, hatreds, which have their roots in the remote past.’
Something in Candida answered this. It was like the string of a musical instrument which trembles in response to a distant note. She said, ‘Yes,’ and found what so many had found, that it was easier to talk to Miss Silver than it was to hold things back. She told her about Barbara, about coming here to stay, about meeting Stephen again – ‘You know, he really did save my life once long ago.’ And so on, through the time of her visit down to the last few days.