Anna, Where Are You?

CHAPTER XXIV

As always, Miss Silver proved herself to be extremely competent. She superintended the removal of Emily to the schoolroom sofa, and sent Jennifer to make her a good cup of tea. She had not been very long at Deep End before discovering that Mrs. Craddock maintained in secret a small store of what she called real tea. When Mr. Craddock was absent they would enjoy it together, at first with apologies on Mrs. Craddock’s side, but after the first time or two in a pleasant matter-of-course kind of way. Placing a very decided emphasis on the word good, Miss Silver was assured that Jennifer would not brew her mother’s cup of tea from the wrong canister. She kept everyone out of the schoolroom, and was presently rewarded by some gasping sighs and a rush of tears.

“I am so sorry-to have been so foolish-”

Miss Silver was brisk and reassuring.

“You are overdone, and it was something of an ordeal. But it is over. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

“You-don’t-know-”

The words came so painfully that Miss Silver could not be certain of them, yet she remained under the very decided impression that they had been spoken. She laid a kind, firm hand on Emily Craddock’s shoulder.

“Pray do not be so troubled and anxious. I believe that all will be well. Jennifer is bringing you some tea, and she will stay with you. Are you warm enough, or shall I pull the rug a little higher?”

By the time that there was a knock on the door and an enquiry from a young constable as to whether Miss Silver could come and speak to the Inspectors she was able to give an affirmative reply. Two cups of tea and a lightly boiled egg had been partaken of, the egg being Jennifer’s idea. “You didn’t eat a crumb of breakfast,” she said in a scolding tone, adding darkly, “I saw you.” After which Miss Silver felt quite happy about leaving her in charge.

She found the two Inspectors alone in the study. A chair had been placed in readiness for her. When she had seated herself, Frank Abbott said,

“Well, how did it all strike you? Did that faint mean anything, or didn’t it?”

She took a moment before she replied in a noncommittal voice,

“Mrs. Craddock is in poor heath. She ate no breakfast.”

“And that was all?”

“No, I do not think it was all.”

“It came very pat after Craddock said that they had nothing to hide.”

Miss Silver coughed.

“I do not think that too much stress should be placed upon that.”

His shoulder lifted in the slightest of shrugs. If they had been alone, he might have taxed her with having something up her sleeve. If she had, it would stay there until she was ready to produce it. He said,

“Well, well-” And then, “Any sinister reflections upon the Miss Tremletts?”

“I do not think so.”

He laughed.

“We had them in one at a time-more to give you a smokescreen than for any other reason. Jackson agrees that they have probably never had a stain upon their characters. Plenty to say for themselves, and an earnest desire to be helpful. They would still be here if we hadn’t pushed them off. What did you make of Miranda and her wisp of whimsy? She just sticks to what she said about going for a walk. Remington embroiders on his theme-song. He is much too ethereal a being to concern himself with such earthy matters as where he went, and what he did, and how long it took.”

Inspector Jackson said,

“We ought to be able to check up on him-he’s noticeable enough.”

Miss Silver turned to him with a bright birdlike movement.

“But he was not dressed like that yesterday. He was wearing a dark suit with a navy blue raincoat over it. He had, it is true, one of those rather open shirts, but there was a muffler in the pocket of his coat-he may have been wearing it in the town. He was bare-headed, and of course that very light hair would be noticeable, but there could have been a cap in his pocket too.”

Jackson stared.

“You saw him?”

“We came back together in the five o’clock bus.”

He said, “Well, that fixes something. I know the picture-shop he mentioned-Jarrows. It’s new, and a bit highbrow. They ought to remember him there. Not that he or any of these people are actually under suspicion, you must know, but that pound note poor Wayne spotted-well, there was a definite connection with the Colony, and the Chief Constable thought we had better follow it up, especially in the light of this business yesterday.”

“A most shocking affair, Inspector. And I think I may have some information for you. Of course I only know what I have seen in the papers.”

“Well, I don’t suppose any of us knows much more than that. What is your information?”

“I believe that I may have seen the murderer. My bus was early. Since I was meeting Inspector Abbott at three o’clock, I consulted my watch. It was just seven minutes to three. I was walking slowly up the Station Approach, when a man passed me. His head was extensively bandaged, he walked with a stick, and he was carrying a small suit-case. Since he was not one of the passengers on the bus, he must have emerged from the railway station. Seeing his bandaged condition, it occurred to me that he might be on his way to the hospital. But this was not the case. Inspector Abbott was early for our appointment. As I got into his car, and before we had driven away, I noticed that the bandaged man had crossed the road and was taking the turning which leads into the High Street. I am well acquainted with Ledlington, and at the pace he was going he could certainly have arrived at the County Bank just before three.”

Both the Inspectors were looking at her with the extreme of interest. Frank Abbott said,

“It was certainly the murderer-there isn’t a doubt about that.” His notebook came out. “Now everything you can give us-every detail. Height?”

She paused for a moment, calling up a picture of that limping figure.

“I suppose I should have to say medium. He walked with a stick, he limped. That might take off from a man’s height, but by creating the impression that he was stooping it might also give one the idea that he was taller than he appeared to be. And he was wearing a loose light raincoat, one of those mass-produced drab garments worn by every second man at this time of year. They are very disguising to the figure. A thin man may look larger, or a spreading figure a good deal slighter than it actually is. There is no doubt that the bandages were part of a calculated disguise, and they could have been fastened together so as to enable them to be put on and off like a cap. I think we may assume that the effect of the limp and of the loose raincoat was also very carefully calculated.”

Inspector Jackson was dark and serious. If his mind did not move quite as quickly as Frank Abbott’s, it was both intelligent and thorough. He said,

“Yes, that’s right. He would have put on the bandages in the station-maybe the raincoat too. The two-fortyfive was just in, and there would be far too many people coming and going for anyone to notice whether a bandaged man went into a waiting room. They would see him come out, but no one would connect him with quite a different looking person who went in, and by the time he did come out there wouldn’t be so many people to see him, because the crowd would have cleared. There’s no doubt at all that it was all very carefully thought out.”

Frank Abbott nodded.

“Very slick timing,” he said. He turned to Miss Silver. “Look here, let’s go on with this question of size. Just for the sake of comparison, and without any invidious implications and so forth, how would any of the people here fit in? Try for a mind’s-eye picture of any one of them in the bandages and the raincoat, plus limp and stick.”

Miss Silver’s hands were demurely folded in her lap. She had been looking down at them. She now lifted her eyes and said,

“Either you or Inspector Jackson would be out of the question. You are both too tall. You, I think, are six foot, and he must be a little more. So much height could not be disguised by a limp.”

Under a surface twinge of amusement Frank applauded her just and temperate mind. If she was to fit caps, there should be no exceptions. He said in a meditative voice,

“Craddock isn’t so tall. Above five-foot-ten?”

“I think not quite as much. He is one of those people who look taller than they really are. Those loose blouses give height and width, and the sandals which he affects have those thick wedge soles. And then there is all that hair,”

“You don’t mean-”

She said, with composure,

“You must not read any special meaning into my words. I am merely answering your question to the best of my ability. I had better continue. Elaine Tremlett certainly did not leave Deep End, and neither she nor Miss Gwyneth could pass as a man. Quite a small man looks tall in women’s clothes, and a woman dressed as a man appears to lose height. Miss Gwyneth is definitely not tall enough to have passed as the man I saw. Miranda, on the other hand, must be about five-foot-eight. Her immense mop of hair, its noticeable colour, and the flowing garments which she affects make her look even taller, but I think that my estimate of her height is correct. Then there is Mr. Remington. His fragility makes him appear smaller than he really is. His neck is so very thin, and those open shirts display it. His face, very delicately modelled, and that fine hair of his, all add to this effect. He too wears sandals, but instead of having the new wedge soles they are of the old-fashioned flat kind.”

Both the Inspectors were looking at her with attention. Jackson appeared somewhat startled. Frank Abbott said,

“In other words, if you built up his head with bandages and put him into shoes which would give him another inch, his five-foot-five or six would become five-foot-seven or eight, and he might be a possible candidate. His shoulders would have to be built out a bit too, I should say, but of course that could be done.” He stopped and broke into a laugh. “I’m afraid my mind boggles at the idea of Augustus playing with any weapon more lethal than an embroidery-needle!”

Miss Silver’s glance reproved him.

“I must remind you that the question which I am endeavouring to answer referred only to size.”

He had reverted to gravity.

“You are perfectly right. How does Mr. John Robinson fit in? He’s medium enough-I should put him at five-foot-eight or nine. The bandages would cover up his beard. And that goes for Craddock too. A bearded man has just got to do something about it if he wants to go murdering people. Can you make a picture of Robinson plus bandages and minus beard, and say how it strikes you?”

She appeared to consider this, but not for longer than a moment.

“In point of size there is nothing against it. Mr. Robinson is neither tall nor short. He wears loose and baggy clothes, but I have the impression that he is of a very average figure.”

Frank said quickly,

“Did you notice the man’s hands?”

“They were gloved. I have no impression as to their size. I saw the gloves-old loose washleather ones. I associated them vaguely with his injuries, and looked away. I am sorry not to be more exact, but motives of delicacy forbid more than a passing glance at someone who is suffering from any physical disability.”

As Inspector Jackson said afterwards, “Well, if that’s what she can do with a casual glance, I don’t know that I would care to be what you might call put under the microscope.” At the time he merely pushed back his chair and got up.

“Well, I’ll just have a word with Mr. Craddock. We’d better have the number of his car. By the way, it seems he doesn’t keep it up at the regular garage where the Miss Tremletts live, though there’s plenty of room there. Can you tell us anything about that, Miss Silver?”

“I can give you the explanation that was given to me. Mr. Craddock has his study in the main block of the house, which is quite shut off from this wing, since a good deal of it is not considered safe. His work demands privacy and quiet. I understand that he is engaged in the study of planetary influences upon plant and animal life, and this necessitates many vigils on the lonely commons and in the woods in which this neighbourhood abounds, though I believe he sometimes goes quite far afield. In order not to disturb the Miss Tremletts, he has had one of the damaged rooms in the main block roughly adapted to serve as a garage. It used, I believe, to be a garden-room, and it is conveniently placed with regard to the north drive, which goes off in an opposite direction to that by which you came in. He can thus come and go at all hours of the day or night without disturbing anyone.”

“And without anyone knowing whether he’s in or out. Very convenient indeed.” Inspector Jackson ’s tone was rather marked.

He moved in the direction of the door, and then back again. “This man Craddock, Miss Silver-you’ve been living in the house with him. You’ve had opportunities we haven’t got, and can’t get. You see him when he isn’t putting up a show-trying to impress. Well, how does he strike you? Is he just a windbag, or is there something there? I’ve met his kind before. Sometimes they’ve got everything in the shop window, and sometimes they haven’t.”

Miss Silver’s small, neat features had assumed a very serious look, her voice when she spoke had a very serious tone.

“You say, Inspector, that I am in a position to judge of Mr. Craddock when he is not putting up a show or trying to impress. I doubt very much whether there is anyone who is in such a position.”

Frank Abbott put in, “You mean you think he’s acting all the time?”

“To a very great extent. A picture is being presented. It is possible that he believes in it himself. I am not sure upon this point. He receives a great deal of quite fulsome adulation from the Miss Tremletts. The lady who calls herself Miranda appears to admire him and to have come here on his account. Mr. Remington is, I think, rather jealous of him, but that is in itself a tribute. His wife, who speaks of him always as Mr. Craddock, appears to be in a state of trembling awe. I have never heard her use his Christian name. Their rooms are at opposite ends of this wing. Jennifer, who is the eldest of the three children-she is nearly thirteen-used, I am told, to adore her step-father. She now hates and fears him. She is a sensitive girl, and she is in a highly nervous state. The other two are robust little boys, and I do not think they have very much feeling for him one way or another. He talks a good deal about self-expression, but if the children get in his way he can be severe. He is greedy about his food, intolerant of opposition, and continually finds fault with Mrs. Craddock.”

Inspector Jackson pursued up his mouth as if he was going to whistle, and then thought better of it.

“Well, that’s pretty sweeping. But it’s not to say he’d rob a bank.”

“No, Inspector.”

“Any of the children his?”

“No.”

“Inspector Abbott tells me there was something about a boat upsetting, and some mushrooms that weren’t the real thing. Where did the information come from?”

“From Mrs. Craddock.”

“She has money?”

“Yes.”

“Tied up on the children?”

“Yes-she told me that.”

“Any sign that she thought her husband had a hand in either of those affairs?”

Miss Silver took a little time before she said,

“I could not say. She was distressed and upset. She takes pains at all times to assure me, and perhaps herself, that the children are very fortunate to have such a step-father. I do not think that I can tell you any more than that.”

Jackson said in a meditative tone,

“If he had red hair-”

Frank Abbott laughed.

“Well, he hasn’t. And if he had, it wouldn’t mean a thing.” Then, as Miss Silver looked from one to the other, “The fellow in the Enderby Green hold-up had red hair. You remember, I told you about it. The bank manager was shot dead-the same technique as yesterday’s job at Ledlington. But the eighteen-year-old clerk was luckier than poor Wayne -he is just out of hospital. And about the only thing he seems sure about is that the murderer had red hair. Everything else beautifully medium and unobtrusive, but quite noticeable red hair. So if there is one thing that everyone else can feel sure about, it is that the hair was just as much a disguise as yesterday’s bandages, and he won’t be found wearing it in private life. Then young Smithers says he had a muffler wound twice about his neck and covering him pretty well up to the ears, and he couldn’t say whether there was a beard under it or not. I wonder if there was.”

Jackson said,

“Well, if he was all that wrapped up, I don’t see how the clerk could see that his hair was red.”

“I should say it was meant to be seen. Anyhow Smithers says he saw it-says he’ll swear to it. And a lot of good that is going to be!” He threw out a hand. “All right, Jackson, you go and try your hand on Craddock. Find out where he was at three o’clock in the afternoon on the third of January-if you can. I’ll come along when I’m through.”

Inspector Jackson turned to the door again. He said, “Thank you, Miss Silver,” and went out of the room.

Miss Silver was reflecting that Miss Gwyneth Tremlett’s description of Mr. Sandrow had included red hair and a red beard, and that she had repeated this description to Frank Abbott.