Pilgrim’s Rest

chapter 33

The door opened and Judy came in. She had taken off her overall and was wearing a dark blue skirt and jumper. Her hands were scrubbed and clean. There were dark smudges under her eyes. She avoided looking at Frank, but he looked at her with a long, cold stare. She may have felt it-it was that sort of look. She couldn’t very well lose colour, because she had none. She kept her head up.

March was very nice to her. He made her sit down, and said, “I’m afraid this is all very trying. I won’t keep you long. I believe you heard Robbins scream and fall?”

Judy said, “Yes.”

“Where were you, Miss Elliot?”

“In Major Pilgrim’s room.” She coloured a little. “The one he was using. The police told me I could clear up there, so I was getting it straight.”

“Well, you heard the scream. Was it just a cry? No words?”

Judy said, “I don’t know.” She had turned very pale. “That sounds stupid, but-I really don’t. It was a-a shock.” She kept her eyes on his face as she spoke. “If you mean did I hear any words, I didn’t.”

He put her down as conscientious and intelligent.

“What did you do?”

“I ran to the window and opened it. I could see someone lying on the stones. I got a sort of giddy feeling. The next thing I knew I was half sitting, half kneeling on the floor by the window and Pell was running across the paved garden. And I called out to him, ‘Who is it?’ I don’t know why I said that, for of course I knew because of the linen jacket. Pell said, ‘It’s Robbins!’ And I asked if he was dead, and Pell said, ‘As any door-nail.’ ”

“What did you do then?”

“Sergeant Abbott and Sergeant Smith called out of the upstair window, and I ran down to the morning-room and told Miss Columba.”

“Was she alone?”

“Yes.”

“Where were the others?”

“Miss Janetta was in bed. As I got to the top of the stairs, Miss Day came out of Captain Jerome’s room. I suppose I looked upset, for she came along the passage and asked me if anything was the matter. I told her what had happened, and she said she thought she had heard a cry, but the wireless was on and she couldn’t be sure.”

“Thank you, Miss Elliot.”

He took Pell’s statement next.

The old man stumped in, thick grey hair standing up in a fuzz above the square weather-beaten face. The hair had been as red as Gloria’s, and it was still as thick and curly. He had wiped his dirty hands on his corduroys. His small greenish-hazel eyes had an obstinate twinkle for authority. “Law-abiding I be, and no call to fear the law” would have just about hit off his mood. He planted himself squarely before the writing-table and kept that twinkling gaze upon the Superintendent’s face. It did not change because March spoke him fair, any more than it would have changed under a browbeating. He was an honest man in his rights, and he knew what they were.

He was the other side of the garden tidying it up. He heard both cry and fall. By the time he turned round, there was Robbins a-laying on the stones. He ran over to him-“And first Miss Elliot she pokes her head out of Mr. Roger’s window and says, ‘Is he dead?’ and I says, ‘As any door-nail.’ And then the police puts their heads out of Robbins’ room and hollers to me not to touch anything, which I hadn’t, only to feel of him whether he was alive or dead.”

“You didn’t see anyone at any other window?”

“There wasn’t no one to see, nor I wouldn’t have seen ’em if there was. I was running, wasn’t I, and looking at the dead corpse? You don’t look at no windows with a corpse a-lying right in front of you on the stones.”

There was no more to it than that.

March said, “I suppose you don’t,” and let him go.

He saw Lona Day after that, grave and concerned, but not so much concerned as to impair her complexion or its delicate makeup. Where Judy had been unbecomingly colourless, Miss Day was discreetly tinted. She did not overdo her lipstick, but the colour had been freshly applied. A plain dark dress with a severe white collar gave the effect of uniform and was surprisingly becoming. Her manner identified her sympathetically with the family, and made it plain that she shared the anxiety which pressed upon its members. March remembered that in his previous examination he had found her intelligent and exact.

“Where were you at the time of the fall, Miss Day?”

“Well, Superintendent, I don’t know that I can say. You see, Captain Pilgrim had the wireless on, and I was going backwards and forwards between my room and his room and the bathroom, and I didn’t take any particular notice at the time. You know how it is, you don’t when you’re busy like that. But it must have been about a quarter to four when I came out of Captain Pilgrim’s room and saw Robbins.”

“When you say you saw him, what exactly do you mean?”

The greenish eyes rested upon his face. He found himself thinking their colour unusual-and attractive. She said at once,

“He knocked at the door, and I opened it.”

“What did he say?”

“He said, ‘I’d like to have a word with Mr. Jerome.’ ”

“And what did you say?”

“I told him he must wait until Captain Pilgrim was rested. He had already done a good deal more than I thought wise, and I didn’t mean him to see anyone else until he had had a good rest. As a matter of fact I was just hurrying to get his tea.”

“Do you usually do that?”

She shook her head.

“No, he very often comes down, or if he has it upstairs, Miss Elliot or Robbins would take it up, or I might do so myself. There hasn’t been any particular rule about it. But I often make an odd cup of tea-nurses get into the way of it, you know. I have a spirit lamp in the bathroom, and I always keep a supply of tea, and cocoa, and dried milk, and biscuits in the cupboard there. Miss Janetta likes a cup of cocoa the last thing at night and the first thing in the morning, and I make it for her.”

“Well, you were going to make tea for Captain Pilgrim. Did Robbins say anything more?”

“He said, ‘I want to see him very particularly,’ and I said, ‘Well, you’ll have to wait. No one’s going to see him till he’s had his rest.’ He went off, and I heard him going up the stairs. I supposed he was going to his room.”

“Did you go back into Captain Pilgrim’s room?”

“Just for a minute. I told him I was going to get him his tea. Then I went into the bathroom and put the kettle on.”

“And where were you at the time of the fall, Miss Day?”

“Well, I really don’t know, because I didn’t hear it.”

“You didn’t hear the cry, or the fall?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“How do you account for that?”

“The bathroom window looks to the side of the house, and the plumbing is old. I’d just been running water to fill the kettle, and the pipes make quite a noise. But of course I don’t know that I was in the bathroom at the time. I was backwards and forwards to my own room, and the windows there look out to the front.”

“But Captain Pilgrim’s windows look on to the paved garden.”

“Two of them do. It is a corner room, and there is another window to the side of the house.”

“How do you account for Captain Pilgrim not hearing the cry?”

“He had the wireless on. But I think he did hear it, because when I went in to him-afterwards, you know-he said, ‘What happened? Did someone call out?’ So I thought it best to tell him what had happened.”

“Who told you, Miss Day?”

“Judy Elliot. I saw her in the passage, and she looked so upset that I ran along and asked her if anything was wrong.”

March turned to Frank Abbott.

“You were taking a shorthand note of what Miss Elliot said. Wasn’t there something about Miss Day thinking she had heard a cry?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is that right, Miss Day?”

“Oh, yes, that’s what I said to her. But, you know, I’m not sure about it-I couldn’t swear to it or anything like that. And the more I thought about it, the more I felt, ‘Well, perhaps it was just imagination,’ because I honestly didn’t think about it at all until Judy said there had been another accident.” Her eyes dwelt upon March’s face with rather an appealing expression.

He said, “I see.” And then, abruptly, “Miss Day, have you ever suspected Robbins of taking drugs?”

She looked at him in a startled fashion. The word came into his head and stayed there-she was startled, but she wasn’t surprised. She said,

“Oh, dear!” And then, “Oh, I wouldn’t like to say.”

“I think you will have to. I am not asking you whether he did take drugs-or a drug. I am asking you whether it ever crossed your mind to suspect him of doing so.”

She said with some appearance of relief,

“Well then, it did.”

“Did you suspect him of using any particular drug? And if you did, what made you suspect him?”

She looked distressed.

“He talked to me once about hashish. That’s cannabis indica, you know, only he called it by the Indian name, bhang. He’d been in India.”

“I think you have been there too, haven’t you?”

“Yes-that is how he came to talk to me about it.”

“What did he say?”

“He asked me if I had ever tried it. He said it gave you wonderful dreams. And of course I told him how dangerous it was, and warned him that it was illegal to use it in this country.”

“And what did he say to that?”

Miss Day gave a slight shiver.

“He looked at me in rather a curious sort of way and said I wasn’t to think he used it, only there were times you liked to feel you’d got something by you that would make you sleep. I felt sorry for him, because I knew that he and his wife were in trouble over their daughter, so I just warned him again as seriously as I could. I didn’t repeat what he said to anyone.”

“When did this conversation take place?”

“Oh, it was a long time ago-when I first came here, quite three years ago.”

“Was it before or after Henry Clayton disappeared?”

She thought for a minute, and then said,

“I think it was after that-but not very long after.”

“Miss Day, did you ever see Robbins under the influence of a drug like hashish?”

She took a minute over that. When she spoke, it was with hesitation.

“His manner was very strange sometimes. I couldn’t say if it was due to a drug.”

“What is the effect of hashish?”

The hesitation continued.

“It is-a narcotic-”

“But it induces dreams?”

“I believe it does.”

“Does it sometimes have an exciting effect?”

“I have heard that it does-I don’t really know much about it.”

“It might induce bad dreams as well as pleasant ones?”

“I suppose it might.”

“Have you never heard of its having that effect?”

“Well-I have-”

“Miss Day, did it ever occur to you that Captain Pilgrim’s nervous attacks might be caused by the administration of some such drug as hashish?”

She cried out at that,

“Oh, don’t! Oh, how dreadful!”

“Did it never occur to you? From what I have heard, the symptoms were all present-heavy sleep, from which he was aroused by distressing dreams to a dazed and abnormal state. That is so, is it not?”

“Yes, but-oh, how dreadful-how wicked!”

“Did that suspicion ever cross your mind?”

She was in considerable distress.

“Not-not until this last attack. I did think when I first came that perhaps the sedative he had been ordered for occasional use-I did wonder whether it was agreeing with him, and Dr. Daly changed it. He didn’t have an attack for some time after that. But when he had this last one I did just think, just suspect-no, it wasn’t as definite as that-I mean I couldn’t really think it-there wasn’t any motive-what motive could there be? Oh, I do hope it isn’t true!”

“Would Robbins have had the opportunity of administering such a drug? You said just now that he sometimes took up Captain Pilgrim’s tea. Did he take up his supper?”

“Oh, yes, always-unless he came down for it.”

“It could, I suppose, be administered in anything that was highly seasoned?”

Lona’s eyes were full of tears. She brought out a handkerchief and dabbed them.

“Oh, yes, I suppose so.” She dabbed again. “I’m sorry, but it does seem so dreadfully wicked. I can’t believe it!”

March said drily,

“Well, it isn’t a thing we can expect to prove. We shall see whether the attacks stop now.”

She let a smile break through and said,

“That would be wonderful!”

March let her go.