Lonesome Road

Chapter Thirty

Cosmo Frith shut the door behind him and walked over to the hearth. He stood there, picking up the old-fashioned gilt clock which had belonged to Rachel’s mother and fiddling with the key. He looked troubled and serious. Rachel’s heart sank.

“Cosmo, what is it? Don’t keep me.”

He said, “No, I won’t-I won’t-” But he got no further than that until she made an impatient movement. Then he put down the clock and said, “Don’t, my dear. It’s because it’s so difficult to say.”

“Difficult or easy, I think you must say it, Cosmo.”

He drew a heavy breath that was like a sigh.

“Yes, I know-but one puts off-you will probably be angry-”

“Does that matter?”

He nodded.

“A good deal-to me.”

A bright exasperated color was in Rachel’s cheeks.

“Oh, say it and have done!” she cried.

He gave her a wounded look.

“You see-you are angry already. But I can’t help it. I can’t let you go with that man and not say a word.”

“You said you wanted to see me about Caroline.”

“Yes, but I must say this too. I must beg that you will not go off alone with this man who calls himself Brandon. He is Gale Brent, and if you’ll give me time I’ll prove it. What do you know of him? He was on the cliff when you were pushed over it. Suppose he pushed you. Suppose he had some crazy notion of revenge. Oh, it sounds melodramatic enough, but isn’t your morning paper full of just that sort of crude melodrama? Can’t you believe that a man might grow up under a grudge and nurse it until he was crazy on just that one point? He’d be sane about everything else. He’d look sane-talk, think, and act as sane men do-and all the time there would be that one danger-point.”

“You’re talking nonsense,” said Rachel coldly. “I can’t stop, Cosmo.”

He stood where he was.

“Rachel, this morning you practically accused us all. You called us together, and you called in a stranger, and in front of that stranger you informed us that there had been an attempt on your life. I think we were all under observation. Will you deny that?”

Rachel gave no answer.

“You see,” said Cosmo Frith again. “I say-and you don’t deny it-that we were all under suspicion. Poor little Caroline broke under it. She fainted, and she has run away. I suppose that proves her guilty-”

“Cosmo, stop! I can’t listen to this.”

He said, “I am afraid you will have to. Don’t you see, it’s the fact that you’ve put us all in the pillory which gives me the right to tell you to look elsewhere. My dear, do you really believe that any one of us-It’s too monstrous!”

The phrase which he had used about the morning paper flickered through Rachel’s mind. She could not bring it across her lips. She said mournfully,

“What is the good of this?”

He returned her look with one as sad.

“No good at all. And you want to go, don’t you? Rachel, I only ask that you don’t go alone with him. Don’t risk yourself alone with Gale Brandon.”

Rachel’s chin lifted.

“Is that all, Cosmo? Because if it is-”

“No, it isn’t. There’s still Caroline.”

“Yes?”

He stood aside from the door and opened it.

“I have been thinking it over, and I am sure that she would go to town. You see, she has a key to my flat. I let her have one when she gave up her own flat a month ago. And she spoke of running up there-oh, one day this week, I can’t remember which.”

“Why didn’t you say this before? Why didn’t you tell Richard?”

The concerned look was back on his face.

“I know-that’s what I’ve been saying to myself. But it had gone clean out of my mind. It wasn’t until I came to go over it all-You know, I could go straight up there myself. There’s no need for you-”

She shook her head.

“No-I must go. I must see her.”

She went past him into the passage, and this time he made no attempt to stop her, but as she emerged, the half open door of Caroline’s room was opened wide and Miss Silver appeared.

“Miss Treherne-will you spare me a moment?”

It seemed as if everyone was in a conspiracy to keep her. She said quickly,

“I ought not to. Won’t later do?”

Miss Silver shook her head with a kind of mild obstinacy.

“Oh, no, I am afraid not. I really must beg-”

Rachel resigned herself.

“Cosmo, will you tell Mr. Brandon that I won’t be a moment?”

She went into Caroline’s room, and found evidences of a thorough search. Drawers stood open. The bed had been stripped. On the dressing-table some torn scraps were laid out to form part of a typewritten sheet. Some of the words were damaged, and some of the pieces missing. She leaned with a hand on either side of the table and read what was there to read:

“Better get away at once whilst we are all at lunch. You’ll get a good start. That woman is a detective. If you don’t get away, she’ll make you speak. Take your car to…” Here there was a piece missing from the right-hand side of the paper. The next line began on the left. “I’ll make an excuse and…” The end of the line was gone. Below again was a whole sentence. “We can talk things over and decide what had better be done.”

The bottom part of the paper was torn away. On an isolated scrap was the name-“Richard.”

Miss Silver said briskly, “Who has a typewriter?”

With her eyes on that last fragment, Rachel Treherne said,

“Richard.”

“Do you know if this was typed on his machine? Are there any peculiarities which you could recognize?”

Rachel said, “Yes.” She put her finger on the first word. “The capital B-it always blurs like that.” Her eyes went back to the fragment with the name on it. “Is that the signature?”

Miss Silver said, “It might be.”

Rachel spoke in a dazed voice.

“Richard went after her… If he wrote this… Where did you find the pieces?”

“In the bed-clothes. She got the note. She tore it up. She was in great distress-probably her hand was shaking. The bits dropped and scattered. Some were on the floor. She managed to destroy the part that mattered most. We don’t know where they were to meet. Then she hurried on her things. I found the cupboard door open. A dress had fallen from its hanger. That drawer was pulled out. The pin-cushion was on the floor, the bed left anyhow, the lunch-tray not touched. You can see what a hurry she was in.”

Rachel’s heart cried out in her. Caroline-in such a desperate hurry to be gone! And where was she going? Where were they all going?

She straightened up slowly, and spoke as if answering her own thoughts.

“I am going after her. Cosmo thinks she will be at his flat. He says she has a key. They are like uncle and niece, you know.”

“And is Mr. Frith driving you?” said Miss Silver.

“No-I am going with Mr. Brandon.”

There was a slight, definite pause. Was Miss Silver going to warn her too? If they all warned her she would still go with Gale Brandon.

But Miss Silver did not appear to have any warning to give. She said thoughtfully,

“Quite so. And Mr. Frith stays here?”

“No. He is going up to town to see a friend who is ill.”

“Can you give me the telephone number of his flat? If Miss Caroline is there-”

“No, no, you mustn’t ring her up-it would be fatal.”

Miss Silver detained her with a touch on the arm.

“Suppose she is not there-is there anywhere else she might go-to talk things over?”

Rachel hesitated.

“She actually spoke of going to town. I think she would go to the flat. Cosmo seemed sure-”

“Miss Treherne, is there anywhere else-any lonelier place than a London flat?”

“There’s Cosmo’s cottage. I did think of that, but he was so sure-and she wouldn’t go there by herself. It’s- very lonely. Oh, no, she’d never go there alone.”

“She was not to be alone. You forget that. She was to meet the person who wrote that letter, and talk things over. Where is this cottage?”

“At Brookenden-about fifteen miles from Ledlington.”

“In the direction of London?”

“No, the other way. The cottage is a mile out of the village. Cosmo goes down there to paint. When he’s not there it’s shut up. Caroline wouldn’t go there-she didn’t like it.”

“If she did go there, could she get in?”

“Oh, yes. He hides the key in the tool-shed. There’s nothing there to steal, you know.”

“Is there a telephone?”

“Yes-he had one put in. I can give you the number. But she wouldn’t be there yet. Miss Silver, I’m sure she wouldn’t go there.”

“If you will give me the address and the telephone number-”

She was offered pencil and paper. She scribbled quickly- Pewitt’s Corner, Brookenden.

Miss Silver bent her brows.

“A very curious name.”

Rachel turned in the doorway.

“It’s a corruption of the French puits. There was a well there, and the house was built over it. I’ve always thought it must make it horribly damp. And Caroline says it gives her the creeps-that’s why I feel sure she wouldn’t go there. I’ll ring you up if she’s at the flat.”

Miss Silver stood looking at the piece of paper in her hand.