Miss Silver said,
‘I have already assured you that whatever you say will be in confidence. Always provided that no tragic event should necessitate the intervention of the law.’
Adriana’s hand rose and fell. It was the gesture Miss Silver had remembered – slight, graceful, and expressive.
‘Oh, after me the deluge! If I’m murdered, you can do what you like!’ The words were spoken on an impulse which spent itself and died. A frown followed, and quick words. ‘Now why did I say that? I didn’t mean to. We had better get on with those names.’ She tapped with her fingers upon the arm of her chair. ‘I don’t know how much you know about me, but everyone knows that I’ve retired from the stage. I live three miles from Ledbury in an old house down by the river. It is called Ford House. I bought it twenty years ago. I fancied it because of the name. I was born Rutherford, but I went on the stage as Adriana Ford. Some of my relations have stuck to the Scotch Rutherford, but some of them call themselves Ford – after me. I’m the last of my own generation. Now, I’ll begin with the staff at Ford House. Alfred Simmons and his wife, butler and cook. They’ve been with me for twenty years. They live in, and so does Meeson, whom I suppose you can call my maid. She used to be my dresser, and she is devoted to me. She came to me when she was only a girl, and she’s about sixty now. Then there are two women who come in daily – a girl called Joan Cuttle, a silly irritating creature, but you can’t imagine her wanting to poison anyone – and a middle-aged widow whose husband used to be an under gardener. Her name, if you want it, is Pratt. Outside, there’s a gardener called Robertson, and a young man under him, Sam Bolton. He looks after the car and does odd jobs.’
Miss Silver wrote down the names in the blue exercise-book whilst Adriana fell into a frowning silence. In the end she said,
‘Well, that’s all the staff, and I can’t think of a single reason why any of them should want me out of the way.’
Miss Silver coughed.
‘No legacies?’
‘Well, of course! What do you take me for? Meeson’s been with me for forty years, and the Simmons for twenty.’
‘Are they aware that you have provided for them?’
‘They would think very badly of me if I hadn’t.’
‘Miss Ford, I must ask you to be exact. Do they actually know that you have provided for them?’
‘Of course they do!’
‘And to a considerable extent?’
‘I don’t do things by halves!’
‘Any other legacies to the staff?’
‘Oh, no. At least – that is – five pounds for every year of service. A hundred would cover the lot.’
Miss Silver drew a line across the page.
‘We have now disposed of the staff. May I ask who else resides at Ford House?’
Adriana’s fingers traced the outline of a carved acanthus leaf.
‘My cousin Geoffrey Ford and his wife Edna. He is in his late forties. His means are not what he would like them to be, and the life of a country gentleman suits him. He began by coming for visits, which have prolonged themselves into a more or less permanent stay. He is agreeable company, and I like to have a man about the house. His wife is one of those tiresome well-meaning women. She interferes with the servants and calls it doing the housekeeping. She would like to keep everything locked up and dole it out in daily doses. And she is ridiculously jealous of Geoffrey.’
Miss Silver held her pencil poised.
‘When you say ridiculously, do you mean that she has no reason to be jealous?’
Adriana laughed a little harshly.
‘Far from it! I should say she had every reason! But what does she expect? She is older than Geoffrey, and she could never have been attractive. No one has ever been able to make out why he married her. As far as I know, she has no money. Well, so much for Geoffrey and Edna. Then there’s Meriel.’
Miss Silver wrote down the name and repeated it on a note of enquiry.
‘Meriel-?’
‘Oh, Ford – Ford. At any rate that’s what she’s been called for the last twenty-three years or so. And it’s no use your asking where she comes in, because she doesn’t. You may say that she was thrown on my hands, and there she’s likely to remain. She frightens the men away. An intense creature – probably a misfit anywhere.’
‘What does she do?’
‘The flowers.’ Adriana’s mouth twisted.
‘You have never thought of giving her a profession?’
‘Oh, I’ve thought of it, but all she has ever wanted to do was to go on the stage or to dance – starting at the top. She has no idea of working, and she has no real talent. In fact the whole thing is a grievance.’
Miss Silver wrote against the name of Meriel Ford – ‘Emotional, disappointed, discontented.’
She looked up, to find Adriana’s eyes fixed on her with a doubtful expression.
‘Those are all the regular people, but of course there were visitors. I suppose you don’t want to know about them.’
‘Do you mean that there were visitors staying in the house at the time of the incidents which have alarmed you?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Then I think you had better give me the names.’
Adriana leaned back.
‘Well, there was Mabel Preston for one. She was there for the day when I broke my leg, but of course she couldn’t have had anything to do with it.’
‘And who is Mabel Preston?’
Adriana made a face.
‘Oh, an old friend, and an unlucky one. She used to be quite well known as Mabel Prestayne, but she married a wrong un and went downhill. He spent everything she earned, and when she couldn’t earn any more he went off and left her, poor thing. I have her down once in a way, but I must say I didn’t want her just then.’
Pencil poised, Miss Silver enquired,
‘Had she any interest in your will?’
Adriana looked rueful.
‘Well, she has. I help her a bit, and she is down for an annuity. But it wouldn’t be of any advantage to her really. In fact I should think she would lose by my death, because I give her things from time to time – clothes, you know – that sort of thing. You can put Mabel out of your head. It’s really not worth your while to write her down. I’ve known her for forty years, and she wouldn’t hurt a fly.’
‘Have you any other names to give me?’
‘There is my young cousin, Star Somers – you will know about her. She is very pretty and attractive, and she has had quite a success in comedy. She doesn’t live at Ford House, but she runs up and down because her little girl is there with a nanny. Star divorced her husband about a year ago. He comes down sometimes to see the child, but he doesn’t stay in the house. Another occasional visitor is Star’s cousin, Ninian Rutherford. They’re like brother and sister and very fond of each other – their fathers were twins. He comes to stay when she is there.’
Miss Silver wrote down the name. Then she said,
‘And which of these people was staying in the house when you fell on the stairs?’
Adriana’s eyes looked back at her with a mocking expression.
‘Oh, all of them, except Robin Somers. No, let me see – I believe he was there too. He doesn’t come down as a rule when Star is at Ford, but it was Stella’s birthday – the little girl, you know – and he actually remembered it. Star wouldn’t see him – she was furious. There was a party – just a few children from round about – and I had been in the thick of it, but I went upstairs to try and get Star to come down, and she wouldn’t because of Robin. So he must have been in the house when I fell… The date? Oh, March the fifteenth.’
Miss Silver wrote that down too.
‘And the incident of the mushroom soup?’
‘Oh, that was in August. And I can’t give you the exact date, so it’s no use your asking me. I only remember about my fall because it was Stella’s birthday. But it would have been a weekend, if that is any use, because Star was there, and Mabel – and, yes, I suppose most of the others too, but not Robin. At least not that any of us knew. But as to the tablet, you can see for yourself it might have been put into the bottle by anyone and at any time. In fact,’ said Adriana with a radiant smile, ‘anyone might have done any of the things, or they may all have been just nothing at all.’ She opened the old fur coat and threw it back with a buoyant gesture. ‘Now that I’ve told you all about it, you can’t think how much better I feel. You know how it is, you think of things in the night and they get hold of you. I expect the whole thing is just imagination from start to finish. I slipped and fell. The fly on the drop of soup just happened to die – flies do. And as to the tablet, I suppose it might have been a different sort that got in by mistake, or one that hadn’t turned out quite right – something like that. I had better just put the whole thing right out of my mind.’