He raised his eyebrows, smiled, and said,
“Deadlock.”
Miss Silver coughed in a deprecating manner.
“There is the same difficulty in the case of Mrs. Brand and of Miss Remington. They had no access to the raincoat or to the scarf, nor had either of them any discernible motive for getting rid of Miss Adrian. It is obvious that they have no affection for Felix Brand, and in any case his connection with Helen Adrian was about to be broken.” She paused, and added thoughtfully, “They had no motive for murdering her.”
“Well, that disposes of their side of the house. Who will you have next?”
She said in her prim, serious voice, “Eliza Cotton,” and saw him smile.
“Well, well-”
“She has as strong a motive as anyone, Randal. She is extremely devoted both to Felix Brand and to Penny Halliday. You may say that she has brought them up. I think that Mrs. Brand and Miss Remington must have known of the breach between Mr. Felix and Miss Adrian, but it is doubtful if Eliza did. She certainly had a motive. And of course, like everyone else on this side of the house, she had access to the coat and the scarf.”
“But no motive for incriminating Marian Brand.”
“Oh, yes, Randal. There is a money motive there. Not for herself, but for Mr. Felix, who would come in for a share of his uncle’s money if Marian Brand were out of the way.”
“You have an ingenious mind.”
She shook her head.
“Ingenuity is not required in a statement of fact. Let us pass to Miss Marian Brand. The only possible motive in her case is an extremely slight one, and need not, I think, be taken at all seriously. Her brother-in-law was carrying on a light bantering flirtation with Miss Adrian during the picnic, and his wife was certainly in very low spirits. But everything else apart, I think we must give Miss Marian credit for more sense than to leave her raincoat where it was found and to hang up a bloodstained scarf in the passage instead of washing it out.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
He had not learned this phrase in her school-room, but she let it pass.
“Ina Felton’s motive would be a little stronger than that of her sister, but I do not think that it need detain us for more than a moment. She is a gentle, affectionate girl whose feelings have been wounded, not, I think, so much by any casual flirtation on her husband’s part as by the money demands he was making on her sister. It is true that she appears to be more under the influence of shock than anyone else in the two houses, but she is not very strong, and it is the first time that she has been brought into contact with a violent crime. I think it is possible that she suspects her husband. She shrinks from him in quite a noticeable manner, and this was not the case when I happened to overhear their conversation in the library at Farne. I thought then that there had been some disagreement between them. He had been pressing her sister for money, and Miss Marian was standing firm. But, taking this into consideration, her manner to him was normal, and she went off quite willingly to have lunch with him.”
He was standing by the old-fashioned hearth, an arm upon the mantelshelf, looking down upon Miss Silver in her olive-green cashmere with the little net vest and high boned collar, her bog-oak beads, and the brooch which matched them, her small competent hands busy with the four steel needles which were shaping the foot of Derek’s stocking.
“You say her manner to her husband was normal then. It is not normal now?”
“By no means, Randal. I think that there is something which she is keeping back even from her sister, and I think that this something concerns her husband. It may, or may not, be connected with Miss Adrian’s death. As I came down just now, Cyril Felton knocked on his wife’s door and urged her to let him in. His words were, ‘Ina-for God’s sake let me in. I must speak to you.’ ”
“Did she let him in?”
“Yes, she did. And I must confess that I should like to know what they are saying to one another at this moment.”
He said with a quizzical look,
“Oh, well, even you have your limitations.”
Miss Silver coughed in a reproving manner.
“We will now consider the case of Mr. Richard Cunningham.”
March straightened up in surprise.
“Cunningham? But he wasn’t in the house.”
“I do not think that need exclude him from our list of hypothetical murderers, if I may use such an expression. We are, you know, merely considering possibilities. With this premise, it is, I think, legitimate to say that Mr. Cunningham should be considered. He left the house at half past ten, but even if he returned to his hotel in Farne, there was nothing to prevent him from coming back. He could have made an appointment with Miss Adrian whilst the picnic was in progress. He was actually sitting next to her for part of the time. He could have met her on the terrace, and he could have killed her.”
March said, “Why?”
“I do not know. But they were at least old acquaintances. She was at some pains to intimate that their relationship had been closer than that. She wished, of course, to annoy Mr. Felix, and possibly Miss Marian. She certainly did annoy Mr. Cunningham.”
There was a tinge of exasperation in his voice as he said,
“You’re not by any chance setting out to make a serious case against Cunningham?”
She continued to knit.
“I am merely showing you that he may have had a motive, and that he certainly had the opportunity both to make an appointment with Miss Adrian and to keep it. I do not wish to go any farther than that. He would not, of course, have had access to the raincoat and scarf, and certainly could not have brought the scarf back into the house after the murder. And that concludes our survey of all those who may have desired Miss Adrian’s death, and who had the opportunity of bringing it about.”
He had his broad shoulders against the mantelpiece now, his hands in his pockets. He was reflecting that it was all very well, but it got them exactly nowhere. He put the thought into words.
“You know, this isn’t getting us anywhere.”
She looked up at him with a smile.
“It has at least cleared the ground, I think. Of the eight people in the two houses, Mrs. Brand and Miss Remington have no discernible motive for desiring Miss Adrian’s death, Mr. Cunningham, Marian Brand, and Ina Felton may be said to have a possible but shadowy motive, Eliza Cotton and Penny Halliday have a motive of affection and the desire to protect someone they love, Felix Brand has a motive of passion and jealousy, and Cyril Felton a motive of fear. The persons who could have taken the raincoat down to the place where it was found and have brought the scarf back again are Eliza Cotton, Marian Brand, Ina Felton, and Cyril Felton. It is, of course, possible that it was not the murderer who did this. It may have been done by someone who wished to lay a false trail in order to screen the murderer.”
He looked startled.
“Is that what you had up your sleeve?”
“My dear Randal!”
“Do you think I don’t know when you’re holding something up? If anyone over here did what you suggest, it would be Eliza Cotton. She would cover up for Felix Brand, or for Penny Halliday. But why lay a trail that points to Marian Brand?”
He broke off because Miss Silver had put down her knitting and was looking up at him with an expression which he recognized as portentous. He had the conviction that she was about, not so much to take something out of her sleeve as to touch off quite a sizable bomb.
She began, “My dear Randal, have you considered-”
Chapter 32
Ina Felton came slowly to her bedroom door and turned back the key. She had to see Cyril, because she must tell him that she knew, and that he must go away and never come back. She wouldn’t tell the police or anybody else, but she must tell Cyril, and he must go away. And then it wouldn’t be he who would be in prison, but herself-shut away from everyone with what she knew and couldn’t tell. She couldn’t tell anyone, not even Marian, only Cyril, so that he would go away and never come back.