"You may be right."
"I am right. Continue, Miss Brentwood."
"As I have said, my uncle was always savage-tempered and difficult. After this he became morose and sometimes even violent toward me."
"He never struck you?"
"No, Mr. Pons, but he would smash things in his temper. I lived in fear of him. If it had not been for our old housekeeper, Mrs. Bevan, I think I would have run away years ago."
Solar Pons had a sympathetic look in his eyes.
"But you never tried to do so?"
"No. I had no other living relative, no money and nowhere to go. And even in my miserable state I could see that it was essential for me to complete my education in order that I could take my proper place in society when I inherited my estate."
"What do you consider your proper station in society?"
The girl looked surprised.
"I do not really know, Mr. Pons. I had hoped — still hope, I suppose — that there would be some letter from my parents, some explanation when the will came to be read. That was why I was so excited at a third visit by Mr. Marcus a few days ago. With my inheritance only six months away, as it were. But before I come to that I wish to speak of other things which have puzzled and terrified me over the years."
"They all stem from the period you mentioned, three years ago?"
"I believe so. On that occasion the lawyer came to visit and stayed two days. That in itself was quite unprecedented. Though nothing specific was said, I believed the visit to be connected with my inheritance, for Mr. Marcus brought deed boxes and briefcases. He was closeted with my uncle for long hours. There appeared to be some argument and there were loud voices raised. Mrs. Bevan was quite agitated at times and I know she fears my uncle."
"You have no other servants or helpers at the house, Miss Brentwood?" Pons interjected suddenly.
The girl shook her head.
"No, Mr. Pons. It was my uncle and his temper, you see. Nobody would stay, not even the gardener."
"I fear you have had an extremely lonely life, Miss Brentwood," I said, all my sympathies roused. "Have some more tea."
I rose to pour for her and after accepting the refilled cup with a grateful smile our visitor continued her story.
"This is all very strange and disconnected, I am afraid, but in the terrible events of the last few days I have been forced to look back right to the beginning."
"It is essential that you should do so. That is the only way to get the complete picture."
"Well, I was naturally disquieted and more upset than ever over these quarrels but imagine my surprise when I went down to breakfast on the second day to find my uncle smiling and affable. Mr. Marcus had gone back to London on an early train — I thought it curious but I did not dare ask about it, particularly as my uncle was in an unusually jovial mood — and certain legal difficulties over which they had quarreled had been cleared up.
"My uncle disappeared somewhere after lunch and I took my dog Pip out for a walk as was my custom. We returned near tea-time and I was surprised to see my uncle working in the garden. My uncle told me the gardener had left after a violent quarrel and he had decided to attend to the garden himself in future. He disliked gardening normally with the result that the grounds were badly neglected after that."
Solar Pons' eyes were very bright now. He leaned forward in his chair, fixing his gaze intently on Miss Brentwood's face.
"There is a high hedge at the side of The Priory which divides the orchard from the more formal part of the grounds which contain lawns and a rose garden which is one of my favorite places to walk. Pip had gone on ahead. When I passed through the gate in the hedge I was surprised to see that some of the rose bushes had been taken up at the far end and a new terrace laid along the middle to join two sections of paving. My uncle was hot and in an ill temper and not too pleased to see me, I thought.
"He got angrier and angrier when I started asking questions about the work and then Pip was running up and down the beds and rooting about among the roses. Uncle Edmund roared at the dog and threw a piece of paving stone at him. I became extremely upset. That evening at dinner Uncle Edmund was strangely quiet and he did something he rarely did."
"And what was that, Miss Brentwood?"
"Apologized for his outburst of temper. He said he had much to occupy him over the affairs of my inheritance and his quarrels with the lawyer had upset him more than he cared to say."
"He did not particularize as to what they were?"
"No, 'Mr. Pons. My mind was a little more relieved after this but the following morning Mrs. Bevan came to me very white in the face to say that my little dog was lying dead in the driveway. He had been seen in the wood in some difficulty, and had dragged himself home, poor little thing. He was quite dead when I got to him. It was my belief he had been poisoned somehow; the farmers in the district are extremely careless about this sort of thing when putting out rat poison. Even my uncle was affected and insisted on burying Pip himself in the rose garden. I would not have another dog for fear of a repetition of the tragedy."
"Hmm."
Solar Pons was silent for a moment, his eyes brooding and far away.
"There are a number of interesting points about Miss Brentwood's narrative so far, Parker."
"Are there not, Pons?' I returned. "I am so sorry, Miss Brentwood. You have had an unfortunate and difficult life, it appears."
"You may well say so. However, I have not wanted for material things, unlike some people, so I should not perhaps make too much of my life with my uncle. As I have already indicated, things have got worse only lately as my uncle became increasingly morose and irritable. Sometimes he would sit and then start at a simple noise, as though he feared for something. In summer he took to sitting for hours on a bench in the rose garden. I have often seen him staring at the spot where Pip is buried, as though contemplating my little pet's fate and have sometimes thought that with all his rough and primitive ways, I have perhaps judged him too harshly."
"Perhaps," said Solar Pons succinctly.
"This was the situation which obtained until recent times, Mr. Pons. Then, one day about a fortnight ago, my uncle mentioned that we were to have another visit from Mr. Marcus."
"He did not give you the details?"
Our client shook her head.
"Not in so many words. But as I said it had occurred to me that, with my twenty-first birthday only six months away, it might have something to do with the legacy."
"Quite so."
"Mr. Marcus arrived the day before yesterday. Though it was some three years since I had seen him, I found him much changed."
"How so?'
Our client stopped, obviously in some difficulty.
"He seemed much thinner and different somehow, to what I remembered of him. Also, his voice seemed harsher."
Solar Pons glanced at me.
"Curious, Parker."
"Oh, it is often so as people grow older, Pons," I returned. "Particularly as Miss Brentwood was only eighteen when she last saw him. Her memory might be at fault."
"Perhaps, Parker, perhaps."
Solar Pons sat quite still, his eyes fixed on the fog outside the window, the smoke from his pipe ascending slowly toward the ceiling.
"Dr. Parker may well be right," said the girl, with an apologetic smile at my companion.
"Anyway, the pattern of three years earlier was repeated. I heard voices quarrelling from Uncle's study that evening.
Long arguments were going on. Mrs. Bevan was quite worried when I told her and twice went to the study on the pretext of trivial errands."
"With what result?"
"She said that Marcus and my uncle sat with documents on the desk between them and were bitterly quarrelling over something. She heard the word will mentioned once and estate twice. They stopped when she rapped on the door and Uncle Edmund received her messages with ill grace. But it had the effect of stopping the row and it was obvious things were patched up when they appeared for supper."