The Blind Side

Chapter XXV

Miss Challoner opened the door to them herself, and at once remarked, “I disapprove of all this very much. Lucy is not at all fit to be worried by the police. Dr. Clarke said she was to be kept extremely quiet. I fail to see how anyone can maintain that making statements to the police about a murder is an occupation suitable for an invalid. However, she insists on seeing you, so I have no choice.”

She opened her sitting-room door and ushered them in.

“Well, Lucy, here they are-and if you have thought better of it, I shall insist on their going away again.”

Miss Lucy Craddock held out both hands to Peter. She was ensconced upon the sofa, fully dressed, but looking very white and shaky.

“Oh, my dear boy-I am so glad you have come,” she said.

Peter kissed her. Her hands clung to his.

“Well, Lucinda, what have you been up to? Look here, if you’re going to tremble, Miss Challoner will turn us out. There’s nothing to be frightened about. This is Frank Abbott who used to be my fag at school, and he’s come to take down anything you want to say.”

Lucy Craddock said, “How do you do?” Then she turned to Miss Challoner.

“Phoebe, dear, if you would kindly leave us-”

“Certainly not!” said Miss Challoner. “You are not at all fit to be left with two young men. Suppose you were to feel faint. I shall certainly not go.”

“I should prefer it, Phoebe.”

Detective Abbott opened the door.

“I am afraid, Miss Challoner,” he said, “that it would be quite out of the question for you to remain. I shall do my best not to alarm Miss Craddock.”

“I shall inform Dr. Clarke!” said Miss Challoner indignantly.

The door closed behind her.

“Dear Phoebe,” said Miss Craddock-“she has been so very kind. Now, Mr. Abbott, will you make yourself quite comfortable? I don’t know what I ought to do, but you will help me, won’t you?” Her voice trembled perceptibly. “I don’t have to take an oath, do I?”

“Oh, no, Miss Craddock. Peter will sit by you, and I will bring this chair up to the foot of the couch. I can write on my knee, and all you’ve got to do is just to tell me what you know about Tuesday evening.”

“It wasn’t the evening,” said Lucy Craddock faintly. “It was the dreadful, dreadful night.”

Frank Abbott brought up his chair, opened a notebook, and said in an encouraging voice,

“Now I am quite ready. Just tell me anything you want to.”

“It is all so dreadful,” said Lucy Craddock. “I don’t know where to begin, indeed I don’t. You know I was going away on a cruise. We had been having a very sad time with my sister Mary’s death-but Peter will have told you-”

“Yes, he knows all that, Lucinda.”

“So I was going away-for a little change. Things had been very disturbing and worrying, and my sister had wanted me to go-but then on the other hand I felt as if I ought to be on the spot. It was all so very difficult.”

“Well, you started off for Victoria, Lucinda, and we know you got there, because that’s where you met Lee and handed her over the key of your flat. She left you at the barrier. Now suppose you begin there and tell us what happened after that.”

“It’s so difficult,” said Lucy Craddock. “You see, there was a private matter that was very much on my mind, and when it came to the point I felt that I really could not get into the train and go away. I felt that I had not done all I might. It was quite a private matter, Mr. Abbott.”

“My poor Lucinda,” said Peter-“nothing is private in this affair. Everyone knows that you were unhappy about the way Ross was running after Mavis.”

“Oh, my dear!”

Peter patted her shoulder.

“I know-but it can’t be helped. Brace up! We’ve all got to get used to living in public. Now get back to where you felt you couldn’t go away without having another shot at making Mavis see reason.”

“I felt I must,” said Lucy Craddock with sudden energy. “I was going to spend the night with Maggie Simpson at Folkestone-Professor Simpson’s daughter, a very old friend-so I thought I could see Mavis, and catch an early morning train and cross by the same boat as the others. It was a conducted tour, you know. So I put my luggage in the cloakroom and sent off a telegram.”

“Yes?”

“And then-yes, I think I had a sandwich and some milk, because I didn’t want to arrive in the middle of their dinner. And then I started out to go to Holland Park.”

“Mavis Grey lives out there with an uncle and aunt,” said Peter.

Abbott nodded,

“Yes-I’ve got the address. What time did you get there, Miss Craddock?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Abbott. It was getting dark. It took me a long time, because I got on to the wrong bus. And when I got there my niece had gone out-so dreadfully disappointing.”

“Darling Lucinda, why didn’t you telephone?”

“I never thought of it, my dear.”

“What did you do after that, Miss Craddock?”

“I came round here to see if Phoebe could put me up, but she was out too. She only has a maid in the morning, and there was no one to answer the door, so I went away. And I went into a cinema because I was getting so dreadfully tired, but I can’t remember what the picture was or anything aboutit.”

“Why didn’t you go home to your own flat, Lucinda?”

Lucy Craddock clasped Her hands.

“I felt that I must see Mavis-I didn’t seem to be able to think of anything else. I stayed in the cinema until it shut, and then I went back to Holland Park and walked up and down waiting for Mavis to come home. I just felt I couldn’t go away without seeing her. And then it came to me-suppose she doesn’t come home.”

“What time was this?” said Frank Abbott.

“It struck twelve, and it struck one, and I kept walking up and down. And then it came to me that Mavis wasn’t coming back, and I thought, ‘I’ll wait another half hour,’ so I did, and a little more. And then I knew it was no good, so I went home.”

“Home to Craddock House?”

“Yes, my dear. And oh, I do wish I hadn’t.” Lucy Craddock began to tremble.

Peter put his hand down over hers and steadied them.

“It’s all right-you’re doing very nicely. You just go on and tell us what happened.”

“Do you know what time it was when you got to Craddock House?” said Frank Abbott.

“I don’t know, but I think it must have been after two. I must have heard a clock strike two, because I remember thinking how dreadfully late it was, and I got home about a quarter of an hour after that. You see, it took me a long time from Holland Park because I was so very tired and-and distressed, and I think I went out of my way several times.”

“Yes,” said Frank Abbott. “And at about a quarter past two you came to Craddock House. Was the street door shut? That is one of the things we very much want to know about.”

Lucy Craddock pulled herself up on the sofa, pushing away Peter’s hand and sitting up clear of the cushions.

“Oh, no-it wasn’t shut,” she said in an agitated voice. “I had my key all ready, but I didn’t have to use it. I saw someone come down the steps, and when I got up to the door I found that it wasn’t latched. It upset me very much indeed to think of anyone being so careless.”

Peter Renshaw felt a quickening of every pulse. If Lucy had seen someone come out of Craddock House at a quarter past two, then she had probably seen Ross Craddock’s murderer.

Abbott said quickly,

“You saw someone come down the steps. Could you see who it was?”

“Oh, no, Mr. Abbott.”

“How near were you?”

“I don’t quite know-not very near. I had stopped to get out my key, and I saw someone come down the steps quickly-like a shadow.”

“Man, or woman?”

“Indeed I don’t know. It startled me to see someone coming out of the house so late, but I couldn’t see who it was. I wasn’t very near, and the porch casts a shadow. I could only see that someone had come down the steps, and when I got there and found the door unlatched-”

“Miss Craddock, this is very important indeed. You say you saw a figure come down the steps. It must have made some impression on you at the time. Shut your eyes and try and think just what you did see-something moving, coming down the steps, coming out of the shadow of the porch, coming down on to the pavement. There must have been a moment when you saw that figure against the light at the corner of the road, Try and think how it looked to you then.”

“It’s no use,” said Lucy Craddock in a shaking voice.“I am short-sighted, Mr. Abbott, and I was very much disturbed at the time.”

“Did the figure go away from you towards the corner?”

She shook her head.

“There is a little alleyway between our house and the next one. I think whoever it was must have gone through that way-oh, yes, they must, because I lost sight of them immediately.”

Peter said, “You know, Fug, that street lamp is a good way off-it doesn’t really light the front of Craddock House.”

Frank Abbott sighed.

“Well, we’d better go on. You got to the door, and you found it open-”

“Unlatched,” said Lucy Craddock. “And I thought how strange it was, and I went in and shut it after me as quietly as I could because of Mr. Pyne-he sleeps so badly, you know, and always complains that he hears every sound.”

“Well, on the one occasion when he might usefully have heard something, he seems to have slept all night. Will you go on, Miss Craddock?”

“I began to go upstairs. The light was on in the hall as usual, but all the landing lights were out. I thought that was very strange indeed.”

“You didn’t put the lights on?”

“No, I went up in the dark. I thought I would put on the light when I came to my own landing. You see, I had given the key of my flat to Lee Fenton, so I knew I should have to ring and wake her up.”

“And did you?”

“No.” She sank back against the cushions and clasped her hands again. She said in slow, halting sentences, “I had to find the switch. It is on the wall by the door of Ross’s flat. I was feeling for it when I pushed the door and felt it move. I remembered the front door being open, and I was very frightened. It didn’t seem to me to be at all right. I opened the door a little way, and there was a light coming from the sitting-room. I called out, and I said, ‘Ross, are you there?’ ”

Her voice quavered in the telling, as it must surely have quavered when she stood in the dark and called to the man who lay dead in the room beyond. She drew a long breath and went on.

“I thought I ought to see if everything was all right. I went into the hall. The sitting-room door was standing wide open. From where I stood I could see a broken wine glass lying on the floor. There was a horrible smell of spirits and-and gunpowder. I thought about fireworks-and then I thought Ross wouldn’t. And then I began to be very, very frightened indeed. I felt as if I must go in, but I was so dreadfully afraid. I had to go in. I was sure something dreadful had happened. I saw Ross lying on the floor-with a pistol in his hand-”

“Miss Craddock, are you sure about that?”

Lucy Craddock began to cry.

“Oh, yes-he was dead-he was quite dead. I saw him-lying there.”

“Miss Craddock, please. You said just now that the revolver was in his hand.”

“Oh, yes-it was.”

“Are you quite sure about that? You know, when the body was discovered the revolver was lying some way off.”

Lucy Craddock’s eyes opened till they looked quite round.

“But I saw it in his hand-and I thought, ‘He has shot himself.’ And then I thought, ‘But why is this door open, and why is the street door open?’ And I thought, ‘No, he’s been murdered, and they’ve tried to make it look like suicide-because that is what Jasper Crosby did in Crimson Crime.’ So I am quite sure about the pistol, Mr. Abbott, and if it wasn’t there when he was found, then somebody must have moved it afterwards, because he was-oh dear!-quite dead.”

“Somebody moved it,” said Frank Abbott. “And somebody took care to confuse any fingerprints there might have been.”

He looked at Peter Renshaw, and Peter looked back. There was an infinitesimal pause. Then Abbott said,

“Will you tell us what you did next, Miss Craddock?”

“I ran away,” said Lucy Craddock simply. “I ran out of the house and down the street. I ran until I couldn’t run any more, and then I didn’t know where I was. It took me a long time to get to Phoebe’s, but at last I did. And then I fainted.”

Frank Abbott leaned forward.

“Why didn’t you alarm the house?” he said.

Lucy Craddock stared at him. Her chin began to tremble.

“Why didn’t you rouse the house? You say you thought your cousin had been murdered. You must have more than suspected that you had just seen the murderer. Miss Fenton and Peter were both within call. Why didn’t you call them?”

She went on staring.

“I-I couldn’t.”

“Why couldn’t you? Miss Fenton-Peter-both within call-your own flat waiting for you-why should you run out into the street and wander there for an hour? Why, Miss Craddock?”

She said in a dry whisper,

“I-I was so frightened.”

“But you ran way from the people who could have helped you. Miss Craddock, you must have had a reason for running away like that. Shall I tell you what I think that reason was?”

Lucy Craddock said, “No-no.”

Abbott went on speaking in his quiet, pleasant voice.

“It was something you saw that sent you running out of the house-I think it was someone you saw.”

She gasped, and got breath enough to speak firmly.

“No, no, Mr. Abbott, I didn’t see anyone-only poor Ross, and he was dead.”

He watched her face.

“You didn’t see your niece, Miss Mavis Grey?”

“Oh, no, Mr. Abbott.”

“Or Miss Fenton?”

A look of simple surprise answered this before she said in a tone of relief,

“Oh, no, not Lee.”

“Or-Peter?”

The relief was still in her voice.

“Oh dear, no.”

“Miss Craddock, whom did you see?”

“I didn’t see anyone-I didn’t indeed.”

“You saw something that sent you running out into the road. Won’t you tell me what you saw? It was something to do with your niece, wasn’t it-with Mavis Grey?” He saw her face quiver. “You see, we know she had been there.”

She turned at that to Peter, and he said,

“They know that Mavis came back with Ross. He frightened her, and she came over to me at one in the morning. Miss Bingham saw her. Ross was alive then. Miss Bingham, fortunately, saw him too.”

Abbott struck in.

“Miss Craddock, you are not helping your niece by holding anything back. A full statement might help her very much, because, you see, she returned to Craddock’s flat at three o’clock. Miss Bingham saw her when she was coming back. Miss Grey foolishly denies this second visit and refuses to explain it. But if you saw Ross Craddock dead at a quarter past two, don’t you see how important that is to your niece? My idea is that she went back to the flat at three o’clock because she had left something there.”

“Her bag,” said Peter. “She said she had dropped it on the landing. You know, Fug, she couldn’t have expected to find Ross’s front door open.”

“She may have had a key.”

“I don’t think so. If she had, it would be in her bag. She had that bag at the Ducks and Drakes, and she didn’t have it when she came over to me at one o’clock, but it was in her hand when she came back at three.”

“She didn’t tell you where she had been?”

“She told me she had dropped the bag on the landing.”

“Did you believe her?”

“No.”

“Was Craddock’s door shut-then-when she came back to your flat?”

“The landing was dark-I suppose Miss Bingham told you that-and I never left my hall, so I don’t know whether Ross’s door was open or shut. It was shut first thing in the morning.”

This rapid interchange of question and answer seemed to pass Lucy Craddock by. When it ceased she said,

“I see what you mean, Mr. Abbott. Indeed that is why I wished to make a statement. If poor Ross had been shot before Mavis went back to that dreadful room to look for her bag at three, then no one could suspect her of having anything to do with it.”

“She did go back for her bag then?”

Lucy Craddock looked at him nervously.

“Perhaps I ought not to have said that, but, as I told her, it is our duty to help the law, and he was dead long before she came into the room.”

“And it was her bag that you saw, Miss Craddock. Was that it? Was that why you didn’t give the alarm?”

“Oh, no, Mr. Abbott. I didn’t see the bag at all. I wouldn’t have left it there if I had seen it. Oh, no, it had slipped down behind the cushion in that big chair, and I never saw it at all.”

“Then what did you see?”

“It was her powder compact,” said Lucy Craddock. “It must have fallen off her lap and rolled. It was right at my feet, and of course I knew it at once, because it was a birthday present from Bobby Foster-blue enamel, with her initials on it in diamonds-only of course not real ones, because Bobby couldn’t possibly afford that, and I hope Mavis doesn’t encourage him to be extravagant.”