Helen Adrian laughed.
“I’m sorry-I really can’t help it. Cyril!”
Miss Silver shook her head.
“Not Mr. Felton-Mr. Felix Brand.”
Helen laughed again, this time with contempt.
“Oh, Felix? He’d lick my shoes if I wanted him to!”
Miss Silver said very seriously indeed,
“You asked me to come here this afternoon because you wanted me to see these people. Shall I tell you what I saw? Hatred-jealousy-spite-wounded affection-resentment -deep unhappiness. These things are not to be played with. They are dangerous. You have come to me for advice, and I am speaking plainly. You are meddling with dangerous matters. Leave them alone. Leave these people alone. Leave their house and return to London. Go back to your fiancé. Tell him the truth and marry him. If you wish me to do so, I will see Mr. Felton on your behalf. I think I can undertake that he will not annoy you further. He is not a strong or a determined character, and a threat to refer the matter to the police would, I feel quite sure, dispose of him.”
That sullen look which Miss Silver had seen before disfigured the curve of Helen Adrian’s mouth. She said in an obstinate voice,
“I won’t have the police brought into it.”
“There will be no need to bring them into it. The threat will be enough.”
The fair head was vigorously shaken.
“No-I’d rather take Cyril on myself.” Then, with a half laugh, “I’m not afraid of him!” She turned round and began to lead the way back to the cove. “I’m not really afraid of anyone-I just got the jitters. I’m all right again now. I’ll fix up with Cyril, and then perhaps I’ll take your advice and send a wire to Fred to meet me in town. It’s no good hanging on to things when they’re over, is it?”
When Miss Silver presently took her departure the party had thinned out and scattered. Mrs. Brand had gone into the house. Felix had disappeared, and so had Helen Adrian and Cyril Felton. Penny had wandered down to the edge of the sea. The tide was now far out. She stood quite motionless, bare-foot on the shining sand, her head a little bent. Beyond her the shallow water caught and reflected the sun. The sky overhead had a faint haze across its blue. The breeze had dropped. Ina had remained where she was, sifting the fine shingle through her fingers and never looking up.
Miss Cassy was doing most of the talking. She did not very often have an audience like Richard Cunningham. She asked innumerable questions, often interrupting an answer in order to put another question, and always spitefully aware that he would rather have been talking to Marian Brand. It gave her quite a lot of pleasure to prod him with her questions and make it impossible for him to get away. Marian, of course, was no match for her-a poor-spirited creature who didn’t even get angry. She shot her a contemptuous glance, and saw her sitting there with a look of half-smiling abstraction. No one would take her for an heiress in that old serge skirt and home-made jumper. Some people might say that the colour suited her, but the blue had run-or faded. It wouldn’t matter what she wore, she would never hold a candle to Helen Adrian. An odious girl, but you had to admit that she had looks and style. And a gift for walking off with the nearest young man. Where was she now? And where was Cyril Felton? And Felix? She went on rattling off questions at Richard Cunningham.
But when Miss Silver got up to go, he got up too. They walked up the terraced garden together and talked about Charles Moray, who was some sort of a cousin and a good deal of a friend.
With her slight prim cough Miss Silver admitted to a strong affection for Charles and Margaret.
“I have heard them speak of you, Mr. Cunningham.”
“They have very often spoken of you. I don’t know whether it is a forbidden subject, but I should like to express my admiration for your work.”
Miss Silver’s eyes dwelt upon him thoughtfully as she said,
“It is not generally known. It has always been possible to prevent my name appearing in the press. I should appreciate your discretion.”
He laughed.
“No advertisement? How very remarkable!”
She smiled.
“I have often found it very useful not to be remarked.”
“I know. I promise you I will be discreet. And you mustn’t blame Charles and Margaret, because it was Frank Abbott who had already aroused my interest.”
Miss Silver coughed.
“Inspector Abbott should have been more discreet.”
She encountered a smiling gaze.
“Won’t you drop the ‘Inspector’? I really do know Frank very well. Cousins of his are cousins of mine, and the reason he was indiscreet was that one of these cousins was in a position which was, to put it mildly, delicate. I consulted Frank, and he suggested you. When I stressed the difficulties of the situation, he talked-in fact I may say he let himself go. I have known Frank a long time, and I thought I knew him pretty well, but I had no idea that he had it in him to be a humble disciple.”
Miss Silver smiled indulgently.
“He sometimes talks a great deal of nonsense.”
Richard Cunningham laughed.
“He doesn’t usually run to humility. Frank has quite a fair opinion of himself. Well, as a matter of fact, the case I was concerned about cleared up without there being any need to trouble you. But I remained interested, and I am so very glad to have the opportunity of meeting you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cunningham.”
Chapter 18
It was while the bus was conveying Miss Silver quickly and easily down the hill to Farne that two young people were making their way in the opposite direction. They had walked out from Farne and taken the footpath which leads across a field to the common land along the cliffs. The path goes no farther because the ground has never been enclosed, being too rough and uneven and continually cut up and worn away into small rifts and combes. There is some growth of rough grass, gorse, and bramble, and though the beach below is private and considered to be inaccessible, it is not really very difficult to climb down and steal a bathe.
Ted Hollins and Gloria Payne were about to scramble down what Ted indicated as “the place Joe and I got over,” when they heard the sound of voices coming up from the beach. Ted stopped, listened, and went on again, moving gingerly and putting out a hand behind him to check Gloria. But when he came to a place where he could see over, there she was, right up against him, her shoulder bunching into his, craning her neck to see what he was looking at. And neither of them could see a thing.
The rift they were in had taken them half way down the cliff, the rest of the way was easy enough. They could see the long inviting stretch of sand left bare by the tide, a ridge or two of piled-up shingle, and then the bulge of the cliff was in the way. They couldn’t see the two people who were standing right down under them where the beach ran in to meet this little combe. There was a man, because it was a man’s voice which they had heard to start with-a man’s voice, but not his words, only the angry echo as if they were something he was chucking about and getting chucked back at him again. But what the woman said was as plain as plain-“All right-go on and do it! You’ve said you’re going to often enough. Go on and murder me if you feel like it!”
Gloria pursed up her mouth and said, “Ooh!” Her lips were so close to Ted’s ear that her breath tickled him. He put up a hand to rub the tickle away just as if she had been a fly, and they both heard the man say, “I will when I’m ready-you needn’t worry about that,” and they heard him go striding away over the shingle with the stones grinding and creaking under his feet.
Since the woman showed no signs of following him, Ted and Gloria made their way back to the top of the cliff, where they talked about how long it would be before there would be a chance of getting a couple of rooms let alone a house, and whether if the worst came to the worst, they couldn’t just make do at Dad and Mum’s. Since Gloria shared a room with a sister and there seemed to be nowhere else for Edith to sleep, it wasn’t a very helpful prospect. And Ted’s landlady wouldn’t take in a wife, not if it was ever so. “Next thing you know, there’s nappies on the line,” was the way she put it. And when Ted up and said, “What’s wrong with that?” Mrs. Crole, she looked at him like any thunderstorm and said, “You wait and see!”