Marian Thorpe-Ennington glided into the full history of Freddy’s courtship.
When everyone had left the dining-room Miss Silver watched her opportunity for a word with Eily. She managed to intercept her coming through with the coffee-tray.
“Eily, is there an extension to the telephone?”
“In the pantry there is-for my uncle to use.”
“Is he in there now?”
Eily looked surprised.
“A moment ago he was-putting away the silver. But you could telephone in the dining-room, Miss Silver. There’s nobody there.”
Miss Silver returned to the lounge. Presently, when she saw Castell come in, she slipped across to the dining-room and called up Cliff House. Matthews, answering the call, was requested to deliver a message to Mr. Abbott-Miss Silver would like to speak to him.
Mr. Abbott was produced. The first tones of Miss Silver’s voice informed him that she had reason to suppose that caution was necessary. The fact that she was ringing up at all made it clear that she had something important to say. It became immediately apparent that she required answers to two questions.
“I have something to ask you-two things in fact. The request I made of you before you left the hotel this afternoon-have you done anything about it?”
“Well, there was a bit of obstruction, now overcome by my well-known tact. I’ll get on with it bright and early tomorrow. That all?”
Miss Silver coughed.
“By no means. I made a second request to you later. Was that acceded to?”
“Yes.”
“I requested that no communication should be made till the morning, but I have reason to believe-”
“I know. But I couldn’t stop him. I’m sorry.”
She said, “It was a mistake. I hope-”
As she said this last word she heard a faint unmistakable click. The receiver on the extension had been lifted. She continued quite smoothly and with no perceptible pause,
“You will give my love when you write, and say I always take the greatest interest? Good-bye.”
Frank Abbott had also heard the click, and was able to applaud his Miss Silver’s presence of mind.
As he rang off at the end he considered the points which she had raised. Crisp had been very sticky about the carpet-sticky and fussy. He didn’t want a row, and he didn’t want to do the job himself without a witness. It occurred to him that Crisp would hate to have his neat presentment of the case upset. The inquest was set for eleven-thirty. If they were going to find bloodstains on the carpet in Castell’s study, the case to be served up wouldn’t be neat at all but highly complicated. Because if Luke White hadn’t been killed where he was found, all the bits of evidence about Eily and Florence Duke coming down and finding him would go by the board. Instead of the murder being a sudden affair of passion it would become a carefully premeditated crime almost certainly involving more than one person. No, Crisp wouldn’t be a bit keen on those bloodstains. He wasn’t really keen on them himself, but they would have to be looked for, and before the inquest opened. As to Miss Silver’s second question, he had done his best to prevent Crisp ringing the Duke woman up. His best hadn’t been good enough, and that was that.
He dwelt for some time on the implications of this second question. The affaire Duke had its possibilities. He went on considering them.
CHAPTER 33
Coming back into the lounge, Miss Silver took particular note of the occupants. All the Taverner cousins were there, but Mr. Castell was not. She took a chair and got out her knitting. Little Josephine’s dress was now a complete skirt and bodice, and she was half way down the left sleeve. She had chosen a chair beside Florence Duke. After a moment or two she remarked,
“It’s for my niece, Mrs. Burkett’s little girl. She had three boys already, so they were of course delighted when Josephine was born. Such a pretty child, and so good.”
Florence Duke had been staring in front of her. She shifted her gaze now and focussed it upon the bright blue dress.
“I like kids-I’d have liked to have some. But you never know your luck-I expect it’s as well I didn’t. He wasn’t any sort of father to have in the house with children, and he wouldn’t have changed. Bad all through, Luke was. There aren’t many you can say that about, but it’s true about Luke.”
Miss Silver went on knitting. She said very kindly,
“Marriage can be a most unhappy state. It is very hard on the woman when it turns out that way.”
There was a sombre spark in the big dark eyes.
“I’ll say it is-” She made a heavy pause, and then brought out more words in the slow, deliberate way she had. “The worst is you can’t get rid of it. There was a gentleman I used to know when I was at the George-partner in a firm of solicitors-I came across him again after Luke went off. He wanted me to see about a divorce, but I wouldn’t. ‘I’ve had enough of being married,’ I told him, ‘and I won’t want to do it again. And as far as it goes for him, I’m not letting him loose to marry some other poor girl.’ He said, ‘You’ll think better of it, Floss,’ but I said, ‘No,’ and I haven’t.” She gave herself a sort of jerk. “I don’t know why I’m talking to you like this.”
Miss Silver’s needles clicked.
“If you keep everything to yourself, things come to weigh too heavily,” she said.
Florence Duke nodded.
“That’s right-like a ton weight, till you don’t feel you can get your breath. Seems you’ve got to get some of it off your chest.”
There was a short silence. Then the slow speech began again.
“There’s things you can’t forget-you’d like to, but you can’t- they come back on you.” She gave another of those jerks and got up. “I’m talking too much. I don’t know what’s got into me. What do you say we have some more coffee? I’ll take your cup and see what’s left.”
She went across to the coffee-table, and as she did so, Geoffrey Taverner came strolling over with his cup in his hand. He took the chair upon Miss Silver’s other side and said in his pleasantest voice,
“May I come and talk to you for a little? I should like to thank you for being so kind to my sister.”
Miss Silver would have been justified in showing some surprise. As she had informed Frank Abbott, Mr. Taverner’s manner had not hitherto commended itself, or him. It had, indeed, conveyed the opinion that she was a negligible dowdy person and a meddler. Now quite suddenly all was changed-she was being addressed with courtesy and deference. She replied with rather more than her usual sobriety,
“You need not thank me, Mr. Taverner.”
He was looking at her in an earnest way.
“Oh, but I do. Mildred is so very highly strung. She has not, if I may speak frankly-well, she has not a very stable mentality.”
Miss Silver said, “Dear me!”
Geoffrey became explanatory.
“You mustn’t think-I didn’t mean to imply-I’m afraid what I said might give you a wrong impression. I really didn’t intend to convey more than that she is highly strung and not well fitted to undergo a strain. To be in the house where a murder is committed is naturally a shock. I have noticed that you have a calming and reassuring effect upon my sister, and I want you to know that I am grateful.”
Miss Silver coughed.
“Thank you, Mr. Taverner.”
He finished the coffee in his cup and set it down.
“Mildred has always been nervous,” he said. “Fortunately the friend who lives with her is a cheerful, sensible woman. I may say that I was not at all anxious for this invitation to be accepted, but she has always been fanciful about the old place-from a child she would make up stories and act them-and when I advised her to stay quietly at home she became so excited that I thought it would really be best to let her come. In fact I do not think that I could have prevented her. Like all nervous people she can be extremely obstinate.” He heaved an exasperated sigh. “It is a combination which can be very difficult to deal with.”