Grey Mask

CHAPTER XXIII

Charles went back to Miss Silver next day.

“Do you know anything of one Ambrose Kimberley?” he inquired.

Miss Silver dropped a stitch and picked it up again before she answered.

“I know the name.” Then, before Charles could say anything more, she spoke briskly: “There are some things I want to tell you, Mr. Moray. I should have telephoned to you if you hadn’t come in.”

“Go on,” said Charles.

She took up the brown exercise-book.

“We’ll take Jaffray first. He came back on Sunday. I haven’t been able to trace the car yet.”

“Or the owner?”

“Or the owner.” She tapped the page with a knitting-needle. “So much for Jaffray. I really wanted to see you about William Cole. I have found out who he is.”

“Is he someone?”

“He is Leonard Morrison.”

Charles looked blank.

“I’m afraid that conveys nothing to me.”

“Nonsense!” said Miss Silver. “Six years ago-the Thale-Morrison case-you must remember it.”

Charles began to remember.

“You don’t mean to say that William-”

“Is Morrison? Yes, I do. He’d have got a life sentence if it had not been for his youth. He was, I think, only just eighteen, and the Court took it into account.”

Charles began to remember the case-a horrible one.

“Yes,” said Miss Silver. She nodded, as if in answer to something which he had not said. “Yes, a most coldblooded, dangerous young man and an astonishingly good actor. All through the trial he was acting, and the Court pronounced sentence on a dull backward lout of a lad. They never had a glimpse of the real Leonard Morrison.”

Miss Silver fixed a direct look upon Charles Moray.

“Mr. Moray, I want to ask you very seriously what you’re going to do.”

“I don’t know,” said Charles.

“How long are you going to wait before you call in the police?”

“I don’t propose to call in the police.”

Miss Silver sighed gently.

“You will have to call them in in the end. How far are you going to let things go before you take a step which you ought to have taken at the very beginning?”

Charles set his jaw.

“Do you think they would have believed me if I had gone to them?”

“I don’t know.”

“I do. They would have said I was drunk, and I should have been told in quite polite officialese to go home and boil my head. Come, Miss Silver! Did you believe my story yourself?”

Miss Silver closed the exercise-book and sat back in her chair.

“Since you ask me, Mr. Moray, I was inclined to think you had been dining a little too well. You did not appear to me to be suffering from hallucinations. No, I must confess I thought you had been-shall I say-celebrating your return.”

“And you still think so?”

“No,” said Miss Silver.

“Well?”

“I believe that you stumbled upon a very dangerous set of people engaged in a criminal conspiracy. I believe Miss Standing to be in serious danger, and I ask you again-how far are you going to let matters go?” She coughed very gently and added, “You will not be able to screen Miss Langton indefinitely.”

Charles was stabbed by a most acute and poignant fear. He mastered his voice and said coolly,

“What do you mean?”

Miss Silver shook her head.

“Now, Mr. Moray, what is the use of our pretending any longer? I am going to lay my cards on the table, and you would be very well advised to do the same. I know perfectly well that Miss Standing has been staying with Miss Langton since Friday night. She left home at about six o’clock on Friday, and Miss Langton brought her back to her flat in a taxi at a quarter to eleven. I don’t know what happened in the interval. Naturally, you do.”

“Do I?”

“Oh, I think so. You helped Miss Langton to get Miss Standing upstairs-she was exhausted and hysterical.”

“She had had a fright,” said Charles, “nothing serious.”

“I’m glad to know that. I don’t ask you why you were not frank with me about Miss Standing’s whereabouts.” She coughed again. “I don’t ask you, because I know.”

“Well,” said Charles pleasantly, “what do you know? Or shall I say, what do you think you know?”

Miss Silver took up her knitting. She had arrived at the toe of the little white bootee.

“I will tell you what I think. You stumbled upon a conspiracy. You saw a number of people whom you did not recognize. They were men. Well, I think, Mr. Moray, that you saw another person whom you did recognize. I think this person was a woman-I think it was Miss Langton.”

“What a remarkably vivid imagination you have, Miss Silver!” said Charles.

Miss Silver counted her stitches-three-four-five-six- seven. After a moment’s pause she spoke again:

“I think so because I cannot account otherwise for your allowing Miss Standing to run so many risks. She should be under police protection. You know that, I think.”

“She’s under Miss Langton’s protection, and mine.”

Miss Silver looked at him sorrowfully.

“You have confidence in Miss Langton’s protection?”

“Complete confidence. Besides, they don’t know where she is.”

“I’m afraid they do.”

Charles was really startled.

“What makes you think so?”

“You mentioned a name when you came in, Mr. Moray- you asked me if I knew anything about Ambrose Kimberley. Why did you ask me that?”

There was a silence. Miss Silver broke it.

“Pray, Mr. Moray, be frank with me,” she said. “In a matter as serious as this, I must warn you that concealment is a very dangerous policy for yourself, for Miss Standing, and, in the long run, for Miss Langton too.” She coughed in her gentle ineffective way. “I will tell you about Ambrose Kimberley. I spoke of him yesterday; but not, I think, by name.”

“Yesterday?”

“I told you that William Cole had been for three months with Mrs. James Barnard, and when you asked me whether there had been any trouble in the family during that time, I mentioned that a nephew of Mr. Barnard’s had left the country in disgrace.”

“What about it?”

“The nephew’s name was Ambrose Kimberley.”

There was a long pause. Charles stared at the bare wall in front of him, which was not bare to him; he saw pictures on it. He turned from the pictures to Miss Silver.

“Ambrose Kimberley called at Miss Langton’s flat yesterday. He found Miss Standing alone there. By the way, as you know everything, you probably know that we thought it wise to change her name.”

“To Greta Wilson-yes, I know that.”

“ Kimberley introduced himself as a friend of Miss Langton’s. As a matter of fact, she met him twice last winter at dances. When was he supposed to have left the country?”

“I think it was in June. The affair was kept very secret, you understand. There were no proceedings. Mr. Barnard pocketed his loss, and only about half a dozen people knew anything had happened. Now, Mr. Moray, I asked you just now whether you thought Miss Langton was to be trusted. Do you still think so after hearing what I have just told you?”

“Why not?”

“Who gave away Miss Standing’s whereabouts?”

“Someone saw her, I suppose,” said Charles.

“Someone? You have to remember how very few people know her by sight. She had not been in England for a year. She had not been photographed. She only came to Miss Langton late on Friday night.”

“She was at a cinema on Saturday.”

“In a hat that practically hid her face. I saw her, you know; and I should be hard put to it to remember her. Between that hat and her big fur collar there was very little to recognise.”

Charles moved impatiently. Miss Silver went on:

“Ambrose Kimberley turned up on Monday. Do you believe that he came to see Miss Langton? Mr. Moray, you are playing a very dangerous game.”

Charles Moray’s face was cold and hard.

“You had better speak plainly,” he said.

“I am speaking plainly-I am warning you that Miss Langton is not to be trusted-I am warning you that Margot Standing is in serious danger.”

“Not unless one of those certificates turns up,” said Charles quickly. “They won’t bother with her if she’s illegitimate-why should they? Egbert Standing gets the money. That’s all they want, isn’t it?”

“They wanted him to marry her, didn’t they? And she refused. Why don’t you tell me what you know about that?”

Charles got up.

“Miss Silver-”

“You had much better tell me everything.”

A bitter gleam of humour crossed his face.

“If I don’t tell you, you find out. Is that what you mean?”

“It saves trouble.”

“If I tell you-” He burst into hard laughter.

“Sit down, Mr. Moray.”

Charles walked up and down.

“I’ll tell you what she told us. You’re right-you’d better know-I don’t want to keep you in the dark. You’re wrong about Miss Langton-utterly wrong. I’ve known her for years. She is incapable-”

“Of letting anyone down?”

The colour rushed violently into Charles Moray’s face.

“Sit down, Mr. Moray,” said Miss Silver.

Charles sat down, and told her Margot’s story as Margot had told it to Margaret.