The Alington Inheritance

Chapter XXXVI

Mr. Mottingley was in his office. He had resumed his business habits, but his mind was elsewhere. Only by keeping it strictly on business was there any relief from the dreadful suspense that racked him.

There was a knock on the door, and he looked up frowning. His preoccupation was hard won and to be held on to at all costs. The girl who looked in was pretty and shy. She was quite dreadfully afraid of Mr. Mottingley, but she liked Jimmy. Everyone in the office liked him. She was hotly partisan, too. Whoever had killed that girl, it certainly wasn’t Jimmy Mottingley. Anyone who knew him could tell that.

“What is it?” said Mr. Mottingley at his shortest.

“It’s-it’s Miss Lingbourne, sir. She-she wanted to see you.”

“Miss Lingbourne?” He frowned. “What does she want?”

“She didn’t say, sir.”

“Tell her I don’t see anyone without an appointment!” The words came sharp and hard.

And then as the girl turned away and was leaving the room his mind altered. Jimmy had been friendly with the family. It was just possible that the girl knew something that would help. Well then, why didn’t she make an appointment? Her brother was there in the office. Girls didn’t always tell their brothers everything. It was just a chance. He said,

“Wait a moment-show her in!”

He sat back in his chair and waited. When the door opened and Kathy Lingbourne came in he looked at her with attention. She was very quietly dressed, and she was pale. He did not know that he had ever seen her before. He might have passed her in the road, he might have seen her with her brother. She wasn’t anything to write home about. And then she was looking him straight in the face and saying, “How do you do, Mr. Mottingley?” as if she had come on a social visit. He said rather grimly,

“What can I do for you, Miss Lingbourne?”

She took the chair on the opposite side of his table and looked at him. When she spoke he noticed her voice-a nice voice, quiet and sweet. She said,

“I’ve come to see you about your son-about Jimmy.”

“Indeed? And what have you to say?”

Kathy paused. She was not afraid of Mr. Mottingley. Jimmy was- she knew that. She said,

“I thought I had better come and see you. Miss Silver asked me not to go and see Jimmy. She said it might do him harm. But I thought if I came to see you, that wouldn’t matter.”

Mr. Mottingley said harshly, “What have you to do with my son?”

A little colour came into Kathy’s pale face.

“I’m his friend,” she said. And whether it was the words, or her look, or the tone of her voice, Mr. Mottingley underwent a surprising change of consciousness. He believed her, and not only did he believe her, but he had a sudden and most amazing understanding of her motive in coming to him. He said quietly and gravely,

“He could do with a friend, poor lad.”

Kathy’s hands clasped one another tightly.

“Yes,” she said. “Oh, Mr. Mottingley, you know he didn’t harm her. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Ay-I know it. He didn’t harm her to her death-I know that. But there are other ways of harming-I can’t hold him clear of them.”

Kathy looked at him.

“Was it all his fault?” she said.

“Maybe not. It’s not for us to put the blame on one or on the other. Why did you come here?”

She gave him a straight answer.

“I wanted to see you for myself.”

“And why did you want to do that?”

“I don’t know. I felt that I needed to know you.”

“Why?”

She spread out her hands.

“I don’t really know. I just felt that I had to come.”

Mr. Mottingley recovered himself with a jolt.

“Are you telling me that you are sweet on Jimmy?” he said sternly.

He was prepared for tears. He certainly expected that calm of hers to break. The curious thing was that when it remained impervious he felt, not frustration, but a secret triumph.

Kathy said, “Oh, no, Mr. Mottingley. It’s not that. It’s just that he has been like one of the family. I have two brothers and a sister, you know. He’s a friend of Len’s, so he has been at the house a good deal. And I wanted to see you. You see, I couldn’t help knowing that Jimmy was quite desperately afraid of you.”

Well, she had got it out. She had not known whether she would be able to say it, but she had got it out.

Mr. Mottingley felt as if a cold light had been turned on him. It was a very uncomfortable feeling. He frowned and said,

“You mean that he has a proper respect for me and for his mother?”

“Oh, yes! I know that he has-I didn’t mean that. I meant- Oh, Mr. Mottingley, I meant that he is quite horribly frightened of you.”

He stared at her.

“I don’t understand.”

Kathy’s hands were clasped tightly together again.

“I know it’s difficult for you. But won’t you try? Please, please do! Jimmy is so afraid of you that he goes all to bits at the thought of telling you anything. Sometimes when I’ve said to him, ‘But why don’t you tell your father?’ he has just wrung his hands and said, ‘I can’t do it-I just can’t.’ And that’s true, you know-you can see it. He’s just horribly afraid of you.”

“He is the only one that lived,” said Mr. Mottingley. “There were three that died one after the other. And then there was Jimmy. And we made a solemn promise that we wouldn’t spoil him, but bring him up in the fear of God.”

Kathy raised her eyes and fixed them upon him.

“It is better for children to love their parents than to be afraid of them,” she said. “You see, if they’re afraid, and they do something wrong, they don’t come out with it. It just piles up inside them and goes on getting worse. I think that’s what happened with Jimmy. At first he didn’t mean any harm, and there wasn’t any. And then he began telling lies about where he had been and what he had been doing. I found out quite by accident, and I didn’t get a chance to speak to him because he stopped coming to our house about then. Miriam-I don’t want to say anything about her that I needn’t-but I’ve got to make you understand that it wasn’t all Jimmy’s fault. She-she was-I don’t know how to put it, but I think that if she wanted something she would see to it that she got it. I don’t want to be unkind, but I think that she was like that. And Jimmy was-I don’t know how to put it-but he hadn’t a chance. Len did speak to him, but it wasn’t any use. He was-” she paused and said, “fascinated. But he didn’t kill her. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I know that.” He got out a pocket-handkerchief and blew his nose. “Why are you telling me all this?” he said.

“I thought you ought to know. I’ll go now, Mr. Mottingley.”