The Benevent Treasure

Chapter Forty-two

Candida lay on her bed and Stephen knelt beside her. Her hand clung to his. If she shut her eyes she might slip back into the dream again. He said, ‘I won’t let you,’ and she held his hand.

Anna came in with a tray, and she drank the most delicious draught she had ever tasted – hot milky tea to assuage her thirst and comfort her parched throat. Anna was crying. She tried not to, but the tears ran down. She took up one of Candida’s hands and kissed it, and went away back to the kitchen to boil an egg and make toast. When she was gone, Candida caught at Stephen’s arm.

‘Will you take me away from here? I can’t stay in this house. I don’t want to see it again – ever!’

He said,

‘You shan’t – I’ll see to that. Louisa Arnold will take you in. I’ll drive you out there as soon as you’ve had something to eat.’

She was sitting up now with his arm round her.

‘I’m all right – I’m quite strong – I only want to get away.’

She pressed against him and dropped her voice. ‘It was Alan Thompson – there in the passage – wasn’t it?’

He nodded.

‘I expect so. There’s a spring that brings the lid of the chest down if anyone touches the Treasure. He grabbed at it, and it killed him.’

‘How – horrible! But it wasn’t – murder – ’

He said slowly and doubtfully, ‘I – don’t – know – ’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t think anyone laid hands on him. But do you think Miss Olivia meant to let him live and marry her sister? How do you suppose he knew how to open that hidden door? We only found it by a lucky chance, and that’s not the sort of thing you would expect to happen twice.’

‘Aunt Cara might have shown him the way.’

‘If she had she would have warned him not to touch the treasure. There’s a rhyme about it, isn’t there -

‘ “Touch not nor take,

For dear life’s sake”?’

‘Yes – yes, there is.’

He said grimly,

‘I think Miss Olivia showed him the secret door, and I think she meant him to touch – and take what was coming to him.’

A shudder ran over her.

‘Let’s get away, Stephen – quickly, quickly!’

Louisa Arnold was most agreeably thrilled. Apart from the fact that she had an extremely kind heart, her house was to be enlivened by a love affair, the solution of a three-years-old mystery, and by a really shocking scandal. The love affair showed every sign of leading up to an early wedding, and since Stephen was certainly a cousin, and Candida an orphan, from what house could they more suitably be married? She had her mother’s wedding-veil laid away in lavender – and there could never have been a happier marriage than hers to dear Papa. As to the solution of the mystery, there seemed to be no doubt that the skeleton found in Underhill was that of poor Alan Thompson, and in regard to the scandal, there really never had been one of so resounding a nature. Was it possible that Miss Olivia Benevent was actually suspected of having murdered her sister?

There was a school of thought which answered this question in the affirmative but softened the conclusion by declaring Miss Olivia to be out of her mind. By others the part of first murderer was assigned to Joseph, and a good many people discovered that they had always thought there was something sinister about him. It having become known that Miss Silver had accompanied the police during their search of Underhill, Louisa Arnold found herself in the enviable position of being considered a positive Fount of Information. It was gratifying in the extreme, but she did feel that dear Maud might have given her a little more to come and go upon. Discretion was all very well, but who more reliable than one’s own cousin?

And to sum it all up, ‘Dear Papa always told me everything.’

At the news that the inquest had been adjourned, Miss Louisa restrained herself no longer.

‘Do you mean to tell me that nobody has been arrested?’

Miss Silver had embarked upon a jumper in a particularly pleasing shade of blue for her niece Ethel Burkett. About an inch of it stuck out from the needles like a frill. The wool was exceptionally soft, and she was trying a new pattern. She looked mildly at Louisa and said,

‘Joseph Rossi has been detained.’

‘Detained! And what’s the good of that, I should like to know! Do you mean to tell me that he didn’t murder poor Cara and then pretend she had been killed by falling down the stairs?’

‘The police will have to decide whether there is a case that they can take into court.’

Miss Louisa tossed her head.

‘He probably killed poor Alan Thompson too!’

‘I do not think so.’

Louisa Arnold leaned forward.

‘Do you know, I saw one of those chests in a museum. I am so vexed that I can’t remember where it was, but it was during that trip that Papa and I took the year after Mamma died. We only had a fortnight, and we saw so many places that they all ran together in my head and I can’t remember where I saw that chest, but it was just like what everyone is saying about the one at Underhill. There was a spring in the lid, and if you touched anything in the chest there was a horrible sort of hasp that came down and hit you. And they say that this is what Alan Thompson must have done. Unless you really do think Joseph killed him.’

Miss Silver made no reply, and after a moment Louisa continued her speculations.

‘Do you know, the thing I find hardest to understand is the part about poor Cara. I just can’t believe she went down into a dark cellar in the middle of the night – unless she was walking in her sleep. Do you think she was?’

‘I think she was looking for Alan Thompson, but whether she was awake or asleep, I cannot say. She may have been suspecting his death for a long time. She may have been very much afraid, and she may suddenly have felt that she could not bear the suspense any longer.’

There was a pause. Louisa’s voice went down into a whisper. She said,

‘Do you think – Olivia killed her?’

‘Oh, no. There was no reason for her to do so. Miss Cara’s death was the greatest misfortune that could have happened to her.’

‘Well, it wasn’t the chest. Cara wouldn’t have touched it with poor Alan lying there dead.’

‘No.’

The whisper became insistent

‘Then it was Joseph.’

Miss Silver said, ‘That is not for us to say.’

Miss Arnold flushed. The effect, with her white hair and blue eyes, was becoming, but it conveyed the fact that her patience was now exhausted.

‘And I suppose you will not talk about Olivia either?’

‘I believe it would be better if we did not discuss her at the moment, Louisa.’

Louisa Arnold really was obliged to leave the room.

Others were, unfortunately, compelled to discuss Miss Olivia Benevent. When all was said and done, there was only the slightest evidence on which to build a case against her. Miss Silver and Mr. Tampling had stood behind a screen and heard Joseph and Miss Olivia accuse one another. What they said could be true, or it could be false, for each denied what the other had said. When, just at the end, Miss Olivia said, ‘If Candida lives, there will be nothing for either of us. She will have Underhill, and she will marry and have children to come after her. She should have been dead, but I think she is alive, and there is nothing more that I can do.’ When she said that, there was an admission which could perhaps have been used. But it rested upon Miss Silver’s evidence alone, since Mr. Tampling, appealed to for confirmation, declared himself unable to supply it. They were at some distance from the speakers, and he felt himself quite unable to swear to anything that had been said. Not that he wished to cast any doubt upon Miss Silver’s recollection. She appeared to be a most accurate and observant person, but he must really not be asked to swear to anything himself.

And then, whilst all this was going on, Olivia Benevent died. There was no blurring of her senses. She had set aside a legacy for Joseph, a legacy for Anna, and she asked to see Candida Sayle. But Candida was out, and when she came she came too late. They did not tell her of Miss Olivia’s last words. She sat propped up against half a dozen pillows, and when she knew that Candida would be too late she used her hard-won breath to say,

‘I wanted to curse her. She would have remembered that.’