Jane drew a quick excited breath.
“Did old Jeremiah know?”
Jeremy stared.
“Must have done.”
She shook her head.
“Oh, no-not if the women didn’t want him to. Ann and the midwife, they could have managed if they’d wanted to. I wonder if they did.”
“I don’t know. My grandfather didn’t say. You’ve got to remember that Ann was very old when she told him-it was in her last illness. What she was out to impress on him was that Geoffrey Challoner and Mary Layburn were legally married, and that he was their legitimate son.”
“Why didn’t they say so at the time? I mean, the baby was Sir Humphrey Challoner’s heir-why didn’t they hand it over to him?”
“Because it would have got them into a peck of trouble. Geoffrey was wanted for the coastguard’s death. Though everybody in the neighbourhood must have known that Jeremiah Taverner was up to the neck in the smuggling trade, having it all come out at a coroner’s court would have been quite another pair of shoes. Anyhow, whatever Jeremiah knew or didn’t know about the baby, he wasn’t for having an inquest on two sudden deaths on his licensed premises.”
“What did he do?”
“Well, I gather he was all for throwing the bodies into the sea, but Ann wouldn’t have it. I don’t know that she’d have got her way if it hadn’t been for her final argument. ‘Two people dead like that and done out of her rights-the sea wouldn’t keep them,’ she said. That’s what she told my grandfather, and it brought Jeremiah up with a round turn. It wouldn’t have suited him at all to have those bodies come ashore.”
“What did they do with them?”
“Bricked them up in the secret passage together with the marriage certificate which Mary had brought along and a statement signed by Ann and the midwife. Ann put all the papers together and sealed them with Geoffrey’s signet-ring. She kept that, and she gave it to my grandfather. I’ve got it now.”
“But, Jeremy, there wasn’t any brickwork in that passage we went down-not any at all.”
Jeremy said in rather an odd voice,
“No, there wasn’t, was there?” Then he put his hands on her shoulders and said,
“Never mind about that just now. I’m not your cousin-I’m not the farthest, most distant relation. We are in fact complete strangers. Are you going to marry me?”
Jane caught her breath and said,
“I suppose I am.”
CHAPTER 29
The inquest was to be next day. It was understood that the police would offer merely formal evidence and ask for an adjournment. Inspector Crisp reported to his Chief Constable that he thought a good enough case could be made out against Florence Duke. On the face of it, Randal March was inclined to agree, but recommended caution and some further enquiries.
“Abbott, now,” said Inspector Crisp-“he’s come down to work up a case against Castell. I’m not saying anything behind his back that I haven’t said to his face, and that’s about the size of it.”
March said with a kind of pleasant firmness,
“I know Abbott rather well. He wouldn’t pull a case.”
Crisp looked injured.
“I’m not saying he would. He’s down here on this dope-smuggling business, and it’s likely enough Castell’s up to his neck in it. But we’ve looked for evidence against him ourselves, and if we haven’t found any, I don’t see it’s likely someone down from the Yard will have any better luck. Stands to reason the locals have the better chance, if there are chances going, which it doesn’t look as if there were. What I mean to say, Abbott’s got Castell in his mind and he can’t see past him. But as far as he is concerned, the murder isn’t his pigeon-it’s only, as you might put it, incidental. It’s natural he should see it linked up with the job he came down about, but they mightn’t have anything to do with each other.”
“Or they might,” said Randal March.
“Not if it’s Mrs. Duke, sir.”
“No, not if it’s Mrs. Duke.”
“Or John Higgins. There’s a strong jealousy motive there, and it’s suspicious that girl Eily being downstairs in her dressing-gown. In the lounge too, with the window unlatched. I must say before all this Duke business came out it looked very much to me as if Eily Fogarty had let Higgins in, and was letting him out again after Luke White was stabbed. She admits having gone into the lounge, and there was a window there unlatched.”
The Chief Constable glanced down at the pile of papers in front of him.
“So I see.”
Crisp continued a thought morosely.
“Then there’s this Miss Silver.”
March raised his eyebrows.
“You’re not telling me she’s a suspect?”
A good many years ago a delicate and insubordinate little boy of eight had shared his sisters’ schoolroom, a schoolroom presided over by Miss Maud Silver. The respect she then inspired had never left him. It had been cemented by a very real affection. He had certainly on one occasion owed his life to her professional acumen. The case of the poisoned caterpillars was an old story now, but he never forgot it. Subsequent encounters of a professional nature had only served to increase his admiration for her powers of observation and deduction. There was, in fact, no one whose opinion he more valued, or to whom he would more willingly defer. Aware that she was unofficially concerned in this case, he had been wondering what Crisp’s reactions would be. Inquiring whether Miss Silver was a suspect, he was, in fact, both indulging his humour and fishing to see what he would get.
Crisp sat up a little stiffly.
“I wish she was anything you could lay hold on. The Yard can do as they like, but I must say it all seems a bit irregular to me. I don’t say anything about her being down there to get the gossip of the place-that’s what she’s supposed to have come down for, isn’t it? But when it comes to Abbott treating her the way he does-well, she might be his superior. And mine.”
March leaned back in his chair. Crisp was ruffled, and Crisp must be soothed. He smiled slightly and said,
“I know. He’s worked with her a good many times before. I’ve heard him say that when she comes in on a case the police come out of it in a blaze of glory. And you know, actually it’s true. She’s a remarkable person. Do you happen to know what she thinks about this case so far as it’s gone?”
Crisp made an exasperated sound. But for the restraining influence of a superior officer it would undoubtedly have been more emphatic.
“I don’t know what she thinks. I can tell you what she does. Sits there and knits, and keeps on asking ever so often what about Al Miller.”