He put up a hand.
“Mildred, I give you my word-”
Her long nose twitched in a silent sniff.
“You may not have known about it at first. Perhaps it wasn’t found until after the first will had been proved. It must have been a very nasty shock. Perhaps it wasn’t found until after Edward came back, and you thought you would just wait and see what happened. Billy Stokes was dead, and William might not think anything but that the will he witnessed was the one that had been proved. You didn’t know that he had been passing the window and had seen your brother James actually signing quite a different-looking will from the one he was asked to witness a week before James died. And you didn’t know that James had told him about having dreamed that Edward was alive. And not knowing those things, you might think it would be quite safe just to wait and see what happened. If the worst came to the worst and William put two and two together, you could have a search made and find the will.”
Her eyes had never moved from his face. He had the horrified feeling that they could read his most secret thought. She went on.
“When nothing happened, you began to feel safe, but you couldn’t have felt very happy when you heard that Edward was coming back as Lord Burlingham’s agent. And then that business in the church last night. It was a great pity you should have lost your temper. It showed William that you were afraid of him. And really, Arnold, you shocked me. Such language- and in church! I hurried away as fast as I could.”
He made an impatient gesture.
“It was enough to make anyone lose his temper. He was trying to blackmail me.”
“Very foolish of him!” There was a mocking spark in her eyes. It came, and went again. “Very foolish indeed!”
He said in a controlled voice,
“What are you going to do?”
“My dear Arnold, what can I do? I shall have to tell my story at the inquest.”
He stared.
“At the inquest?”
“Naturally. I overhear a serious accusation concerning the suppression of a will, followed by an attempt at blackmail and a violent quarrel. I hurry from the spot. Early next morning the blackmailer is discovered drowned in a shallow pool quite close to the scene of the quarrel. Naturally it is my duty to inform the police. I suppose there is no need for me to tell you what conclusions they are bound to draw.”
He sat there paralysed with horror. When you can see a danger approaching, something can be devised to meet it. There is thought, contrivance, a means of defence, a way out. But this had come upon him suddenly when his mind was relaxed, taking its ease after strain. It would not move to serve him.
Mildred Blake nodded.
“It is a pity I came into the church last night, isn’t it? I wanted to speak to you about the music. If I had gone straight home from the Vicarage, no one would ever have known that you murdered William Jackson.”
The word was out. However many times it is spoken, it is always a dreadful word. It shocked Arnold Random into speech.
“My God, no! I never touched him! Mildred, I swear to you I never touched him!”
Her fingers tapped on the black account-book.
“He fell of himself? And couldn’t get up again? In that shallow water? My dear Arnold!”
His usual pallor was suffused by a terrible flush. The blood throbbed in his veins and beat against his ears.
“Mildred, I swear-”
“And if I believe you, do you think that anyone else will? If you suppress a will and take what is meant for somebody else you go to prison. William Jackson could have sent you to prison. That is what he was telling you there in the church. You knew it, and so did I. He was blackmailing you-his job back and a rise! And that was only the beginning of it-it wouldn’t stop there. And whatever he asked, you would have to pay-we both knew that. There was just nothing you could do about it except the one thing which you did. He had to go over the splash, and the stones were slippery after the rain. He had had too much to drink and he was unsteady on his feet. I could see him swaying there in the church when you were swearing at him. Really a most disgraceful scene-quite a smell of beer-and such language! A sober man wouldn’t have drowned in the splash, but if somebody pushed a drunken man and held him down when he tried to get up again he could very easily be drowned, couldn’t he, Arnold?”
He drew a long breath and sat back in his chair. The flush drained from his face, the drumming in his ears died away. His thoughts fell into place. He said,
“You are wrong-I didn’t kill him.”
“How many people, do you suppose, are going to believe that?”
“I don’t know.”
Her black eyebrows rose.
“Twelve men on a jury? Do you know, I doubt it.”
He doubted it too. Accusation-threat-blackmail-the fury of the scene in the church-and William Jackson face down in a shallow pool, so very conveniently dead. He stared at her and said,
“It’s not true.”
She had been leaning towards him across the corner of the table. She straightened herself now, sitting back in the upright chair and folding her hands upon her knee.
“If I believed you-” she said.
He repeated what he had said before.
“It’s not true.”
She began to take off the torn right-hand glove in a slow, deliberate manner, looking away from him now, looking down at her own hand as it emerged. An ugly bony hand, not too well kept, the nails cut flat across the top-yellowish and bloodless nails. When the glove was off she put it carefully on the top of the collecting-book and said,
“We have known each other a long time. One has a duty to the public, but one has a duty to one’s friends. If I could believe that William Jackson’s death was an accident-” She spoke slowly, dragging the words.
“How can I make you believe me? I never touched him!”
“If I could believe that, I might not think it was my duty to go to the police. I say I might not.”
“Mildred!”
“You did not kill him?”
“No-no!”
“You didn’t follow him down to the splash and push him in?” Almost past speech, he shook his head, struggling for words which would convince her, move her. Only the simplest came.
“I never touched him. He went-I put the music away- then I went too. I never touched him.”
After an agonizing pause she said,
“Well, I believe you. I don’t suppose anyone else would, but on the whole I think I do. But if I hold my tongue I’ll be taking a considerable risk. I suppose you know that.”
“No one will-know.”
“I hope not, but there is always the chance. I mentioned at the work-party that I intended to go over to the church to see you about the music. It is just possible that someone may have seen William Jackson either going up to the church or coming away from it.”
He said,
“It was dark.”
“Yes, it was dark. But there is that risk. I am not inclined to make too light of it. If I do this for you, I think there is something which you might do for me.”
In his relief, he could only stammer,
“Yes-yes-anything.”
Her tone was precise and businesslike as she replied.
“At the time of his death your brother Jonathan owed us quite a large sum of money.”
“Jonathan!”
“It can hardly be news to you that he was in the habit of running up debts.”
“But James paid them-settled everything.”
“He did not settle this one. You see, he had warned me against lending money to Jonathan. I had not taken his advice.”
Arnold sat up straight. Two facts dominated his mind.
James had certainly paid all Jonathan’s debts. To the last farthing.