The Catherine Wheel

CHAPTER 32

Miss Silver sat silent in the back of the car until they had passed through Cliff. Then she leaned forward and spoke.

“Captain Taverner, would it be trespassing too much on your kindness if I were to ask you to take me up to Cliff House? I would like to speak to Inspector Abbott.”

Jeremy said, “Of course.” And then, “We had tea with Jack Challoner, you know. Abbott wasn’t there then, but of course he may have come in since.”

Frank Abbott had not come in. Matthews stood there waiting. Miss Silver addressed herself to Jeremy.

“Sir John Challoner is a friend of yours. Do you think he would allow me to use the telephone? I would rather not use the instrument at the inn.”

Jeremy went into the house and came out again with a large redheaded young man, whom he introduced. Miss Silver was inducted to the study and left there with the telephone and the only fire, whilst the others shivered in the hall and Jeremy brightened the proceedings by announcing that he and Jane were engaged.

The number called by Miss Silver was Ledlington police station. A hearty male voice responded. Yes, Inspector Abbott was there. He was in conference with Inspector Crisp and the Superintendent. He didn’t know-

Miss Silver coughed in a peremptory manner and said briskly,

“Would you tell him that Miss Silver would like to speak to him.”

At the other end of the line Frank Abbott was not sorry to exchange his present society for that of Miss Silver. He found that a little of Crisp went a long way, and had, most regrettably, summed up the Superintendent as a pompous bullfrog. It was not in his nature to suffer pomposity with resignation.

Just behind in the adjoining room Crisp and Superintendent Johnson heard him say, “Hullo!” and then, “Yes, it’s me. What can I do for you?”

Following on this he said at irregular intervals,

“Florence Duke-yes, I could… Well, as you say-I shouldn’t think there would be any difficulty…No, I shouldn’t think so… Well, I’ll put it to him… All right. Good-bye.”

Miss Silver rang off, thanked her temporary host in the most gracious manner, and again relapsed into silence at the back of the car.

As she stepped into the narrow entrance of the Catherine-Wheel, someone had just set foot upon the stairs. She had the impression that this person had come from the direction of the dining-room, but so newly from the dark, and with the lamplight in her eyes, she could not be certain. She thought that there had been a movement from left to right across the hall, but she could not be certain. By the time her eyes were really serving her clearly the person whom she had seen had mounted to the third or fourth step.

Miss Silver came out into the hall and recognized Florence Duke. A most vexatious theory which would explain Mrs. Duke’s presence in the dining-room presented itself. She had particularly asked-she had made it quite plain-it really would be very vexatious indeed.

She mounted the stairs with more than her usual briskness and came up with Florence Duke on the landing. With a slight preliminary cough she observed that she had been out and had rather forgotten the time.

“I hope that I am not late. I should be glad to change my dress before dinner.”

In the light of the wall-lamp Florence Duke turned a ghastly face. Fear sat naked in her eyes. Almost involuntarily Miss Silver took her by the arm.

“Mrs. Duke-are you not well? I am afraid you have had a shock.”

The pale lips twitched. A sound like an echo came from them.

“A shock-”

“Were you talking on the telephone?”

Florence stared with the wide, blank eyes of a sleep-walker. The echo came again.

“The telephone-”

Miss Silver said firmly, “You are unwell. Let me help you to your room.”

This was no conversation to hold on the open landing for anyone to hear. She got Florence Duke into her room and shut the door.

“What is it? Can I help you?”

The big woman went across to the washstand, tipped half a jug of cold water into the basin, and stooped down to plunge her face into it. She came up gasping, to do it again, and yet again. Then she took the rough bath-towel and scrubbed herself dry. Cold water, rubbing, and time to catch at her self-control-between them they worked wonders. The dreadful bluish look was gone from her face and some of the natural colour had come back. She said in something very like her ordinary voice,

“Just one of my turns-I have them sometimes. I’ll be all right now.” Then, after a good long breath, “We haven’t got too much time if we’re going to change.”

“You feel able to come down?”

“I’m going to.” She laughed without merriment. “Do you suppose the old man will stand us champagne? I could do with it.”

Ten minutes later Miss Silver descended the stairs. She had changed into her last summer’s dress, which, like the one she had been wearing every day, was of a dark olive-green in colour but distressingly patterned in a kind of Morse code of orange dots and dashes. There were hints of other colours too, but on the whole the orange had it. Nothing could have been less becoming. The bog-oak brooch reposed upon her bosom. She also wore an extremely ancient black velvet coatee-most warm and comfortable-without which she never ventured upon a country visit. In her experience country houses, especially old country houses, were apt to be cold and draughty in the extreme. The gong having sounded when she was half way down the stairs, she joined the rest of the party on their way to the dining-room.

They were all seated before Florence Duke appeared, looking very much as she had looked all that day and the day before. She could not have known how closely she was being observed. If she had, it would perhaps have made no difference, since she was already making the maximum effort at self-control. On three separate occasions when she discovered her hand to be shaking she dropped it quickly to her lap. Miss Silver, facing her across the table, missed nothing of this. There was, in fact, very little that she did miss in the behavior of any one of the Taverners.

Jacob was in his place. He had an old, frustrated look. The likeness to a sick monkey was painful. He had Marian Thorpe-Ennington on his right and Mildred Taverner on his left. Lady Marian talked uninterruptedly from one end of the meal to the other, and everyone was grateful to her for doing so. She told them all about her French mother-in-law who was, to put it mildly, eccentric.

“Absolutely nothing but high-heeled slippers with pink feather trimming and a diamond hair-band which used to belong to Josephine-really too embarrassing. And one never knew where one was going to meet her-it was such a rambling old château- oubliettes and all that sort of thing. Of course the servants were trained to look the other way.”

Florence Duke stopped crumbling a piece of bread and said in a voice louder than she meant it to be,

“What is an oubliette?”

Marian Thorpe-Ennington was only too pleased to explain.

“All those old places had them. There was a story about one at Rathlea, but we never found it. The one at Rene’s place was quite horrid. You pulled out a bolt, and a bit of the floor gave way and let your enemy down into a frightful sort of cesspool. Of course it’s been drained and all that-and I believe there were quite a lot of bones. But I don’t think the French are very thorough about that sort of thing, and I never really fancied living there, what with Eglantine being quite mad and there being no money to keep anything up, so perhaps it is a good thing we didn’t have any children. Though of course it was a frightful tragedy when René crashed, and I thought I should never get over it.”

She looked down the table and kissed her fingertips to Freddy Thorpe-Ennington.

“Freddy, my sweet, do you remember how absolutely crushed I was? I know I never thought I should marry again. But perhaps it was all for the best, if it hadn’t been for Freddy’s father’s pickle factory crashing too.”

Jacob surveyed her with just a hint of his old sardonic amusement.

“What you want is someone to leave you a fortune, isn’t it?”

She could not have agreed in a more whole-hearted manner.

“Of course my first husband ought to have left me his, but most of it went to his secretary, a perfect frump. Shattering- wasn’t it?”

Mildred Taverner was fingering her Venetian beads. She said in a low, hurried voice, more as if she was talking to herself than to anyone else,

“Oubliette-oublier-that’s French for forget-at least I think it is-I never was good at languages, and my French is very rusty. I suppose it means they went down that hole and were forgotten-” She gave a sharp involuntary shiver. “Oh, that’s horrid! I hope I shan’t dream about it.”

Marian Thorpe-Ennington glided into the full history of Freddy’s courtship.

When everyone had left the dining-room Miss Silver watched her opportunity for a word with Eily. She managed to intercept her coming through with the coffee-tray.

“Eily, is there an extension to the telephone?”

“In the pantry there is-for my uncle to use.”

“Is he in there now?”

Eily looked surprised.

“A moment ago he was-putting away the silver. But you could telephone in the dining-room, Miss Silver. There’s nobody there.”

Miss Silver returned to the lounge. Presently, when she saw Castell come in, she slipped across to the dining-room and called up Cliff House. Matthews, answering the call, was requested to deliver a message to Mr. Abbott-Miss Silver would like to speak to him.

Mr. Abbott was produced. The first tones of Miss Silver’s voice informed him that she had reason to suppose that caution was necessary. The fact that she was ringing up at all made it clear that she had something important to say. It became immediately apparent that she required answers to two questions.

“I have something to ask you-two things in fact. The request I made of you before you left the hotel this afternoon-have you done anything about it?”

“Well, there was a bit of obstruction, now overcome by my well-known tact. I’ll get on with it bright and early tomorrow. That all?”

Miss Silver coughed.

“By no means. I made a second request to you later. Was that acceded to?”

“Yes.”

“I requested that no communication should be made till the morning, but I have reason to believe-”

“I know. But I couldn’t stop him. I’m sorry.”

She said, “It was a mistake. I hope-”

As she said this last word she heard a faint unmistakable click. The receiver on the extension had been lifted. She continued quite smoothly and with no perceptible pause,

“You will give my love when you write, and say I always take the greatest interest? Good-bye.”

Frank Abbott had also heard the click, and was able to applaud his Miss Silver’s presence of mind.

As he rang off at the end he considered the points which she had raised. Crisp had been very sticky about the carpet-sticky and fussy. He didn’t want a row, and he didn’t want to do the job himself without a witness. It occurred to him that Crisp would hate to have his neat presentment of the case upset. The inquest was set for eleven-thirty. If they were going to find bloodstains on the carpet in Castell’s study, the case to be served up wouldn’t be neat at all but highly complicated. Because if Luke White hadn’t been killed where he was found, all the bits of evidence about Eily and Florence Duke coming down and finding him would go by the board. Instead of the murder being a sudden affair of passion it would become a carefully premeditated crime almost certainly involving more than one person. No, Crisp wouldn’t be a bit keen on those bloodstains. He wasn’t really keen on them himself, but they would have to be looked for, and before the inquest opened. As to Miss Silver’s second question, he had done his best to prevent Crisp ringing the Duke woman up. His best hadn’t been good enough, and that was that.

He dwelt for some time on the implications of this second question. The affaire Duke had its possibilities. He went on considering them.