Miss Silver Comes To Stay

CHAPTER 33

As Miss Silver emerged between the pillars which marked the entrance to the drive of Melling House, a light was flashed in her face. It was a little startling, but since there was an immediate murmur of apology in a young man’s voice, she concluded that the owner of what appeared to be a bicycle-lamp had merely been anxious to identify a friend. In words rather more familiar than she herself would have employed, it was a case of “boy meets girl.” She crossed the road and found her way along the edge of the Green to the path which would take her back to Mrs. Voycey’s.

When she first heard the footsteps behind her she gave them no attention. A nervous person would not adopt the detective profession. It did not occur to Miss Silver to be nervous. There was enough light for her to distinguish her path from the Green it traversed. She was not, therefore, using her torch. The footsteps continued behind her. Presently they drew nearer, and a voice said,

“I-I beg your pardon-”

It was the same voice which had apologized for flashing the bicycle-lamp in her face, a young voice and embarrassed.

Miss Silver stood still, allowed the footsteps to come up with her, and said,

“What is it?”

The bicycle-lamp must have been switched off, for all she could see was a tall black shadow. The voice said,

“I beg your pardon, but you are staying with Mrs. Voycey, aren’t you? Your name is Miss Silver-”

“What can I do for you?”

“I really do beg your pardon-I hope I didn’t startle you. I’m Allan Grover. My father and mother have the Grocery Stores-I think you’ve met them. I’m in Mr. Holderness’s office in Lenton.”

Miss Silver began to be very much interested. This was the young man Cecilia Voycey had talked about, the clever boy who had won scholarships. She remembered that there was something about an infatuation for Catherine Welby who was, as Cecilia had not failed to point out, more than old enough to be his mother. Since this had never yet prevented a young man of twenty from falling in love with a pretty and experienced woman, Miss Silver had dismissed it as irrelevant. She began to wonder why he had been waiting outside Catherine’s house. Was it just the familiar case of the moth and the candle, and if so, why was he now following herself? She said,

“Yes-Mrs. Voycey has spoken of you. What can I do for you, Mr. Grover?”

He was standing quite close to her now. His voice continued to show embarrassment.

“I wanted to see you-”

Miss Silver coughed in rather a surprised manner.

“To see me, Mr. Grover? You could not know that I should be at the Gate House.”

“No-no-I didn’t-I couldn’t. I was going to see Mrs. Welby-but I had been wanting to talk to you-and when you came out it seemed like an opportunity-”

Even in his embarrassment she was struck with his manner of speech. There was no trace of the village accent. It is not every clever boy who is so adaptable. She said gravely,

“Why did you want to talk to me?”

He came to the point with a simple directness which pleased her.

“You are staying with Mrs. Voycey. Her housekeeper, Mrs. Crook, is a friend of my mother’s. I have heard that you are a detective, and that you are advising Miss Cray.”

“Yes, Mr. Grover? Shall we walk? It is chilly standing here, and we may be remarked.”

They moved on together, Miss Silver setting a slower pace than she was used to. Allan Grover began to pour out what he had to say.

“I haven’t known what to do. I thought of coming round to Mrs. Voycey’s-but then she would be there, and Mrs. Crook would know. I wanted to catch you alone, but I didn’t see how it was going to be done. Then when you came out of the Gate House I thought if I let the opportunity slip I’d never get another, so I followed you. It’s about Cyril-Cyril Mayhew.”

“Yes, Mr. Grover?”

“Miss Silver-this is just between you and me, isn’t it? Because I’m not supposed to talk about office business, but I had to go up to Melling House with Mr. Holderness this morning-a matter of checking up on the inventory with the police to see if anything was missing. Well, right away we found that there were four gilt figures gone from the study mantelpiece.”

“Yes-they represented the four Seasons, did they not?”

“You know about them?”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Grover.”

“Then you know they think Cyril took them.”

“Do you know of any reason why he should have done so?”

“I’m quite sure that he didn’t. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

Miss Silver coughed.

“Do you know whether they had any special value?”

He hesitated, and then came out with,

“They’re down in the inventory as ‘Four gilt figures.’ ”

“Is that all you know about them?”

“No, it isn’t. I used to go up to the house to play with Cyril. Mrs. Lessiter was fond of my mother. I’ve been in the study often and seen those figures. Cyril always said they were gold. We used to make up stories about them and say they were pirates’ treasure.”

It occurred to Miss Silver that he was not making things any better for Cyril Mayhew. She said in the tone of an earnest enquirer,

“And are they gold?”

Allan Grover laughed.

“Oh, no, of course not! That was just talk. They wouldn’t have been left out like that if they had been gold.”

“But they were, Mr. Grover.”

“Who says so?”

“Miss Cray for one. I think the Mayhews are aware of the fact, and in all probability so is your friend Cyril.”

He actually put his hand on her arm.

“Miss Silver, Cyril isn’t mixed up in this-I swear he isn’t. He may have been down here that night-they say he was- but as for taking those figures or laying a finger on Mr. Lessiter, I’ll swear he didn’t. That’s what I wanted to see you about. I’ll swear Cyril hadn’t anything to do with it.”

“What makes you so sure about that?”

His hand was still on her arm. Its pressure increased.

“Just knowing Cyril-that’s all. If you knew him like I do you’d be just as sure as I am. I’ve thought it all out, if you’ll just listen to me.”

“I shall be very pleased to listen to you, Mr. Grover.”

“Well then, it’s this way. By all accounts Mr. Lessiter was in his study all that Wednesday evening. They say Cyril came down by the six-thirty and borrowed Ernie White’s bike to come out here. Mrs. Mayhew says he didn’t come, but I suppose that’s what she’s bound to say. Well then, suppose he took those figures-when did he take them? If it was early on, Mr. Lessiter was there, wasn’t he? And if he was out of the room for a minute he’d have been bound to notice they were gone when he came back-gold things, showing up like that against the black marble.”

Miss Silver coughed and said,

“They were still there at a quarter past nine when Miss Cray left.”

“Well, there you are. They say Mr. Lessiter was killed some time after nine o’clock. Cyril would never have dared take those figures with him using the room. And this I can tell you, and I’d swear to it, he’d never have taken them with Mr. Lessiter lying there dead.”

“Why do you say that, Mr. Grover?”

“Because I know Cyril. I don’t say he mightn’t take something that didn’t belong to him-he-he’s got a weakness that way-but he wouldn’t do it if he thought it was running any risk. And as for killing anyone or going into a room where there was a man with his brains beaten out, I really do know what I’m talking about, and I tell you he just couldn’t do it at all. I’ve seen him run out of the kitchen with his fingers in his ears when his mother was going to kill a mouse. And when it came to rabbiting, or ratting, or anything of that sort, he was worse than a girl-a drop of blood, and he’d come over sick. I tell you he couldn’t have gone into that study with Mr. Lessiter dead the way he was, any more than he could have taken up the poker and killed him-and I can’t put it stronger than that. You see, Miss Silver, it isn’t as if there could have been anything like a struggle. Even a rabbit will bite if it’s cornered-any creature will. Cyril, he might have hit out with one of those figures if he’d been caught taking them, but it didn’t happen like that. Whoever killed Mr. Lessiter, it was someone he was comfortable and easy with. There he was, sitting up to the writing-table and someone just behind him over by the fire. You don’t sit that way with anyone unless you’re easy with them. And whoever it was meant murder. There wasn’t any struggle. I don’t see how there could even have been a quarrel. You don’t quarrel with someone like that, sitting with your back to them, do you? But the one that was behind him, he meant murder, and he picked up the poker and let him have it. Well, I tell you Cyril couldn’t have done that. There are things people can do, and things they can’t do. I’ve know him all my life, and he couldn’t squash a wasp, let alone hit a man over the head with a poker. If you told me he’d lifted some loose change or a shilling’s worth of stamps, I’d believe you, but murder, or going into a room with a murdered man-well, it’s just plain nonsense, he couldn’t have done it.”

They had reached the edge of the Green. Miss Silver had only to cross the road in order to see the welcoming glow from the curtained windows of Mrs. Voycey’s drawing-room. She paused at the end of the path. Alan Grover’s hand dropped from her arm. After a moment’s thoughtful silence she said,

“You have interested me extremely, Mr. Grover. There is a good deal in what you say, and I will give it my most careful attention. Goodnight.”