“What could he have known?”
“My dear Randal, from first to last in the case there has cropped up the question of a secret passage or a secret room. That it was not the passage between the cellars and the shore is proved by the fact that Mr. Jacob Taverner not only knew all about this passage but was quite willing to display it to his guests and to the police, whereas he continually plied the Taverner cousins with carefully contrived questions as to what they might have heard from the grandparents with whom each had been rather closely associated. These questions strongly suggest a second passage, or perhaps merely a secret chamber, the existence of which was known to Mr. Jacob Taverner, but of whose whereabouts he was ignorant. I have thought all along that this second passage might prove to be of immense importance in the case. I think most of the Taverner cousins know something about it. Florence Duke may have passed her knowledge on to her husband, and so may Annie Castell. If these two men were making money out of their knowledge, and Albert Miller was using what he knew to blackmail them, you have a motive which would account for the events of the last few days.”
There was a hint of humour in March’s eyes, but he said quite gravely,
“Since you know everything, are you going to tell us who killed Al Miller?”
Miss Silver shook her head.
“I am afraid I do not know.”
Frank Abbott allowed himself a short laugh.
“Not Castell?”
“Possibly. But there was more than one person concerned. I am quite sure that the murder was not committed where the body was found. Albert Miller was more than half drunk when I saw him in the lounge. He became very noisy, and was hustled through into this room by Luke White and Castell. I do not think he ever left it alive. It would have been easy to complete the process of making him drunk, to give him a wound on the back of the hand corresponding to that which Luke White had received when he tried to kiss Eily and she picked up Jane Heron’s scissors to defend herself, and then, when the right time had arrived, to inflict the fatal stab and convey the body to the hall. As I have said before, I think that two people must have been involved in this. There is no one in the house of sufficiently powerful physique to make sure of moving a dead body from this room to the hall without noise.”
Randal March said,
“I agree to that. But all the rest is, if you will let me say so- well, pure hypothesis.”
Miss Silver smiled.
“I only ask that you should put it to the test. I suggest that Mrs. Wilton should be approached. She was a friend of Mrs. Miller’s, and must therefore have known Albert from a child. She might be aware of some distinguishing mark. Then, as to the scene of the murder, the carpet may provide you with evidence.”
She put little Josephine’s dress into her workbag and rose to her feet.
“I feel sure that I can leave the matter in your hands. But with regard to Florence Duke there is a point which deserves your attention. If she committed suicide shortly after I had seen her lock herself in her room, can you tell me why she did not just walk to the edge of the cliff behind the house and throw herself over? The tide was high and she would have fallen into the water. Do you think it possible that any woman would climb in the dark to the top of the cliff and throw herself down upon rocks?”
“She might not have known-”
“My dear Randal, we had all been out walking along those cliffs. There had been talk about the tides. It had been mentioned that those rocks were only covered by a spring tide. I think it an incredible place for a suicide. But if it was murder, there would be a strong reason for choosing it. It would be necessary that Florence Duke’s body should be found, because it was intended that she should appear to have killed herself out of remorse for the murder of her husband. There must be immediate proof that she was dead. She could not just disappear. There are very strong currents here, I believe, and a body might be carried out to sea and never washed up.”
Frank Abbott said in his most casual voice,
“Well, about the only thing you haven’t told us is how Florence was spirited out of her locked room. Crisp made a point there, you know. She walked along the passage on her stocking feet, as he said, probably carrying her shoes. Why?”
Miss Silver looked at him gravely and compassionately.
“I think, Frank, that the poor woman went to meet her husband, and that this time Luke White will have no alibi.”
CHAPTER 37
The Thorpe-Enningtons departed to town for the day, Freddy to his business meeting, Lady Marian to a fitting, a hairdresser, a lunch engagement. It was understood that they would return in the evening-“Though I am sure I don’t know what we can do, and as far as the inquests go, I’m thankful to say we didn’t see anything. But of course we shouldn’t like to feel we were running away, should we, Freddy my sweet?” Freddy having made some mournfully inarticulate response, they got into their expensive car and slid away in the direction of London with Marian Thorpe-Ennington at the wheel.
Geoffrey Taverner had gone off in his small cheap car an hour earlier. As he explained to Inspector Crisp, he could do a day’s business and be back by seven o’clock-“Quite a number of contacts to make in the Lenton direction, so I shan’t be far away.” Jacob Taverner gave the Thorpe-Enningtons half an hour’s start, after which he also took the London road. Miss Silver wondered if he was really fit to drive.
Randal March and Inspector Crisp departed somewhat later, leaving Inspector Abbott and a young man called Willis, who was a plain-clothes detective, shut up in Castell’s office.
Miss Silver, after a few words with Jane Heron, descended to the lounge, where she cast on the requisite number of stitches for a pair of bright blue knickers to match little Josephine’s woolly frock. She had chosen a chair quite close to where Mildred Taverner sat nervously turning the pages of an old Picture Post. After looking at her sideways once or twice Miss Taverner edged her chair a little nearer.
“Oh, Miss Silver, when do you think we shall get away?”
She got a kind reassuring smile.
“I am afraid it is impossible to say.”
Mildred’s hand went up to her blue Venetian beads.
“It’s all so dreadful, isn’t it? Having to pass that poor thing’s door every time I go up to my room. Do you believe in haunted houses and ghosts-” She broke off with a little gasp.
Miss Silver knitted placidly.
“What makes you ask that, Miss Taverner?”
Mildred Taverner shuddered.
“I was thinking how dreadful it would be if the door were to swing open when I was going past-her door, I mean-and something-were to come out.”
Miss Silver counted briskly.
“Sixteen-eighteen-twenty-twenty-four-yes, I think that will be about right. No, I think you should put aside these unhealthy fancies. There is nothing in the least supernatural about what has been happening in this house. Now I wonder whether you can tell me whether Mr. and Mrs. Castell are occupying the bedroom which used to belong to your greatgrandfather old Jeremiah Taverner and his wife. Family tradition is an interesting thing, and it occurred to me-”
“Oh, yes-” Mildred Taverner was quite brightly interested-“it’s the same room. The landlord has always slept there. The windows look out in front, and when the coaches came down from London the postillions used to blow their horns at the top of the hill so that he could hear them and be ready to come down. My grandfather said he could remember hearing the horns, though of course his window looked the other way. He and his brother Jeremiah, and Mark, and Luke, they all slept in the corner room. Eily has it now. It looks out at the back, and you can see the sea from the window, but he said he could hear the horns quite late at night. Of course travelling by coach was really quite over, because the railway had been built, but they had these coach parties just the same. People used to come from quite a long way off-and gentlemen riding, and in their dogcarts and all. I think, from what he said, there was a lot of gambling and high play. You know, one doesn’t like to say it, but I can’t help feeling that it wasn’t really a very respectable house. My grandfather didn’t say so of course. He left home when he was quite young, and he had the highest-oh, the very highest character himself. But I think a lot of people in those old times weren’t exactly what we would call respectable now, and I can’t help thinking that Jacob Taverner is making a mistake in trying to rake things up. Geoffrey doesn’t like it, and-and I don’t either.” She gazed at Miss Silver from under damp pink eyelids. “I mean, we’re all respectable now, so why not leave it alone?”