“When did you tell her?”
“I believe it was on the Sunday.”
“Mr. Arnold Bray was still here?”
He shrugged his big shoulders.
“And Clay Masterson, and the Rennicks, and Wilfrid Gaunt.”
“And Mrs. Scott?”
She saw an angry colour come up into his face, but he did not speak. After a moment she went on.
“Mrs. Herne could have mentioned the matter to any of these people. She could have mentioned it in the hearing of any of your staff. And any of these people could have mentioned it again. And all without evil intent. The ripples spread quickly in a pool. There were so many people in the house, some partially and some more accurately informed, and one of the latter a girl surrounded by her friends and with no particular reason to suppose that she would be doing wrong if she mentioned what was going to be a very important adjunct to her costume for the ball that you were giving. Is it difficult to see how this information could have passed rapidly from one to another until it reached someone who was prepared to turn it to his own advantage? At present we have only one clue to help us in searching for this person. It is the fact that the murderer could so little afford to be recognized that he was prepared to go to any length to avoid it. That is the point to which I find myself recurring. This man was someone who would not trust any disguise to protect him from being recognized by Mr. Garratt.”
“By Hubert?” The words came slowly.
“It was Mr. Garratt who was to collect the necklace.”
“It was Arthur Hughes who was murdered.”
“I have given some attention to that point. It could mean that Mr. Hughes was equally dangerous, or that having made up his mind to shoot, the criminal’s intention held in spite of the fact that it was no longer Mr. Garratt who would be the victim.”
Lucius Bellingdon moved abruptly.
“I don’t see that it gets us any forarder either way.”
Chapter 14
AFTER leaving Lucius Bellingdon Miss Silver retired to her room, where an extremely comfortable easy chair offered an opportunity for rest and thought. For once her hands were unoccupied. Her knitting-bag lay on a stool beside her. She leaned back against the cushion, which admirably repeated the predominant colours in the very charming flowered chintz with which the chair was covered, and reviewed what she had gathered during the late interview. As she went over it in her mind, it was clear to her that anyone in the house could have known of and repeated the information which had made it possible for the necklace to be stolen. Mr. Bellingdon, having averred that Miss Bray did not know what were his arrangements about the necklace, went on to say that he supposed she knew that he was getting it out on the Tuesday, but stated that she did not know the time or who would be the messenger. Pressed as to who did know these things, he said the bank manager, Hubert Garratt, and at the last moment Arthur Hughes. But to further questioning he admitted that his daughter knew that the necklace was to be fetched on Tuesday. Miss Silver found herself perfectly convinced that what was known to Miss Bray and to Moira Herne would be no secret from the rest of the house-party. If it was generally known, it would be generally and freely discussed. In which case the Hiltons, Mrs. Stubbs, Mrs. Donald the gardener’s wife, and the dailies from the village could also have been in possession of the facts and could have passed them on just by way of gossip and without any criminal intent. She considered sedately that really men had very little idea of what went on in a house. It was the women who worked there, and especially those who went to and fro from their work to a neighbouring village, who had an unerring instinct for anything out of the way and an unflagging interest in retailing it. Lucius Bellingdon might flatter himself that no one knew anything which he had not himself imparted, but she had no doubt that he was mistaken. As to his point about the time being unknown to anyone except himself and Hubert Garratt, Mr. Garratt might not have considered himself bound to secrecy. He might, for instance, have mentioned the matter to Mrs. Herne.
She had reached this point, when there came a gentle tapping on the door. Mrs. Scott made a graceful entrance.
“I do hope I am not disturbing you. I really did want to have a little talk if you can spare the time.”
Her smile was charming. Her whole manner was charming. It said, “I want to be friends. I do hope you will let me.” There was just a touch of diffidence which, like the quality of her voice, made her seem younger than she was.
Miss Silver responding, Annabel pulled up a second and rather smaller chair and sat down. All her movements were easy and pleasant to watch. She leaned forward now, an elbow on the arm of the chair, and said,
“I do hope you won’t mind, but I know why you are here.”
Whilst she was settling herself Miss Silver had reached for her knitting-bag. Taking out the almost completed shawl, she disposed its pale blue fluffiness upon her lap and began to knit. In reply to Annabel Scott’s “I know why you are here” she looked at her with grave enquiry and said,
“Mr. Bellingdon has told you?”
There was a half shake of the head with its smooth dark hair. A half laugh was immediately checked, and Annabel was saying,
“Well, he did. But I knew already.”
“Did you?”
Annabel smiled and nodded.
“Well, yes, I did. You see, I know Stacy Forrest [see The Brading Collection.] -in fact she’s a kind of distant cousin. She did a miniature of me in the autumn. I wanted to give it to Lucius for Christmas, and he was quite terribly pleased with it. She does paint beautifully, doesn’t she?”
Miss Silver acquiesced but did not enlarge upon the theme. She did not really imagine that Mrs. Scott had come here to talk about Stacy Forrest, who had been Stacy Mainwaring.
Annabel went on talking about her.
“Lucius is so critical, but he was delighted. She told me all about that affair of the Brading Collection and how marvellous you were, and when you came down here you were exactly the way she had described you, and of course I knew why you had come-I simply couldn’t help it! So then I taxed Lucius with getting you down here professionally, and he had to own up. You won’t be cross with him, will you?”
Miss Silver said, “No-” in a meditative tone, to which she presently added, “And how many people have you told about your discovery, Mrs. Scott?”
Annabel laughed.
“Now you’re cross with me! I did so hope you wouldn’t be, because I really want to talk to you. And I haven’t, I really haven’t, breathed a word to anyone. I promised Lucius I wouldn’t. And of course you don’t know me enough to trust me, but I don’t break promises.”
Miss Silver smiled. There was something very attractive about Annabel Scott, a warmth in the dark eyes, a natural charm. She pulled on her ball of pale blue wool and said,
“What did you want to talk to me about, Mrs. Scott?”
It was as if something had passed over a bright landscape, the glow and the brightness were less bright, less glowing. Annabel said,
“Well, I don’t want to make too much of it, and I don’t want to say anything to Lucius. And of course it may not have anything to do with it, but just in case it has I thought somebody ought to know.“ She paused, bit her lip, and then said in a hurry, ”That Hughes boy was only twenty-two!”
Miss Silver said, “Yes,” and waited for more.
Annabel went on.
“I didn’t know him very well, I didn’t even like him very much, but there he was, just a boy, and one minute he was all right, and the next someone had shot him dead for the sake of that wretched necklace!”
Miss Silver stopped knitting for a moment and made a quotation which she considered to be apposite.
“ ‘The lust of gain in the spirit of Cain,’ as Lord Tennyson so aptly puts it.”