He led the way. The kitchen was neat and spotless. Having viewed it and the scullery, they came back again to the hall. It was dark there. Jim Fancourt moved restlessly. The young man continued to speak of the convenience, the comfort, the good furnishing of the house. ‘I am sure you would find it just what you want,’ he was saying, when Jim broke in.
‘I should like to see the cellar.’
‘Oh, of course-of course,’ said the young man. ‘But I’m afraid there is no lighting. Miss Kentish did not use it, so omitted to install the electric light.’
He went past them and opened a door. It was not easily seen. There was a screen which had to be pushed away. A table stood close in to it. The young man from the office found himself tried, but he continued with his role of persevering politeness.
‘There is nothing here,’ he said, ’but it would of course make a capital place for the storage of heavy luggage.’
Jim said, ‘I should like to go down. I have a torch. There is no need for you to bother.’ He produced from his pocket a small but powerful torch and turned it on.
Miss Silver stepped after him into the open door. The voice of the young man followed them as they descended the steps.
‘There is really nothing down there-nothing at all.’
They took no notice of him. Miss Silver came down slowly. She had made no picture of what she expected to see. What she did see in the concentrated torch-light was a clean, bare floor at the foot of the steps. It was quite clean, quite bare.
It was too clean, too bare.
The house was clean. The bright young man had laid stress on that. A woman came once a week to open the windows and to dust. Miss Silver thought she must be a prodigy unique amongst charwomen if she descended into the cellar and extended her ministrations to its floor.
The cellar was entirely empty except for two or three boards which leaned against the wall on the far side. Jim Fancourt stood in the middle of the bare floor space and shone his light upon it. There was a dead silence. Then he pushed the torch into Miss Silver’s hand and went to move the clutter of old boards against the wall. There was nothing behind them-no gap in the wall, no door. But on Miss Silver’s exclamation he turned round to her and saw that she was pointing. A small bright bead lay on the floor where the dust behind the boards had not been cleared. There was thick dust, and that small bright bead no larger than a pea. He stooped to pick it up and stood there, the bead in his hand and the light of the torch upon it.
Miss Silver spoke in a low voice.
‘Why is it not dusty like the floor?’
Jim Fancourt frowned. The small bead lay on his palm. There was no dust on it. He moved his hand, and the bead on the palm moved. He did not speak, but he stooped down and touched the floor outside the space where the boards had been piled. There was no dust outside, no dust at all. Under the shelter of the boards which he had just moved there was a soft thick layer which spoke of years of neglect. But the bead itself was clean. The months or years during which the dust had gathered had not troubled its brightness. If it had lain there for those months or years, the dust would have silted into it and over it and through it. It had lain there no more than a few days. It was a witness. His mind went back to Anne as he had seen her just before she stepped into the plane and left him. She had about her neck a chain of little beads like this one. He put the bead away in his pocket.
As they came up the cellar steps Miss Silver did all the talking. She thanked the young man and said they would have to ask the lady for whom they were acting.
‘Oh, no, it is not for ourselves. We shall have to let my sister know, but I am afraid the house may be a little too large for her, and she did not really wish to take a furnished house.’
‘The furniture could be removed,’ said the young man with bright hopefulness.
‘Ah, well. I will let you know if she thinks that this will suit her, but I am very much afraid-’
When the young man had taken his departure they walked on to the far end of the road in silence. As they turned to come back Miss Silver spoke.
‘You recognise the bead?’
‘Yes.’
‘It was Anne’s?’
‘Yes.’
He walked beside her in silence until they came to the house again. Then he said, ‘The bead was from a necklace she wore. She wore it always. This means that the other Anne’s story is true-not just a dream or anything like that. She did see a girl’s dead body in that cellar. It doesn’t just rest on the bag any more. This bead is Russian. Anne was wearing a Russian necklace-don’t you see-don’t you see-’
Miss Silver said, ‘Yes, I see.’
CHAPTER 14
Anne woke up on the following morning with the curious feeling that she had known something in her sleep which had gone from her again. With the light of returning consciousness it had gone, but it had been there. She wondered where things went to when you forgot them. Perhaps it meant that her memory was not gone but was merely sleeping. Perhaps it would come again suddenly and she would remember all those things which she had forgotten.
When Thomasina came in with the tea she lifted a bright face to meet her. Thomasina shook her head.
‘There’s no cause for you to look as if there was a present for you on the tray,’ she said.
Anne laughed.
‘I feel as if there was, you know.’ She sat up, snuggling her knees. ‘Do you believe in presentiments, Thomasina? I’m not sure if I do or not. Tell me, do you ever wake up and feel as if all the bad things had happened and were passed away and done with?’
Thomasina looked at her in a pitying way.
‘I can’t say I do. And if I did I wouldn’t dwell on it, nor yet talk about it.’
‘Why wouldn’t you?’
Thomasina set down the tray.
‘Because I wouldn’t. And if you’ll take my advice you won’t do no such thing.’
Anne laughed again.
‘Why Thomasina-why?’
Thomasina stepped back. Her solid arms hugged one another. She stood and delivered herself.
‘Now just you listen to me, my dear. There’s times when you wake in the morning and everything looks black to you. No harm in taking a pinch of cheer-me-up those days-no harm at all. But when you wake up and everything’s going right and you feel like skipping out of bed and dancing whilst you put your clothes on, that’s the time to take a check on yourself and go easy. That’s all, my dear. And I’m a quarter of an hour late with the tea through Mattie having forgot to put the kettle on, so I’m all behind-and don’t you keep me talking or it’ll be the worse for all of us.’
Anne laughed again when the door was shut upon Thomasina. The laugh echoed in her head and left a little shiver behind it. She drank her tea and jumped up. The fatigue of the last few days was gone and she felt ready for anything.
She went downstairs, looked out at the day, found it brilliant and beautiful, and began to wonder what she should do with it.
There was sunshine on the lawn. The birches in the distance were golden, and nearer, the clumps of azaleas were crimson and flame-colour. As she stood looking out of the window of the dining-room she thought about gardening- about putting in bulbs. And then suddenly she became aware that that was what she had been used to doing in her old life, the life that was gone. A horrible feeling of loss swept over her. It was just as if she had been at home, and quite suddenly there wasn’t a home any more, only this strange place, bare and empty of everything she knew and loved. Past and present rocked together and she felt physically giddy for a moment. Then it was gone again, and she was left wondering, and a little breathless.
When breakfast was over she went out and began on the border again. More and more she found the garden a refuge. It was work she was in the way of doing. Her thoughts went down accustomed paths without effort. Some day she was going to find what she had lost. When she was in the garden she could feel sure of that, and she was content to wait.