The Case of William Smith

Chapter Twenty-two

Katharine knocked on the door of Mr. Tattlecombe’s sitting-room. When he had said ‘Come in!’ she found him in his favourite chair with his leg up and a rug over it. He looked up from a large ledger and a litter of papers.

‘Good morning, Mrs. Smith. What is it?’

She said, ‘I wondered if I could talk to you about something. ’ She thought he looked surprised, and made haste to say, ‘About William.’

Right on that she was reminded in the most ridiculous way of Red Riding Hood in the nursery tale:

‘What big eyes you’ve got, Grandmamma.’

‘The better to see you with, my dear.’

Mr. Tattlecombe’s eyes were like bright blue saucers. He asked her to sit down, and he asked her if anything was wrong. And out it came,

‘I think someone is trying to kill him.’

Mr. Tattlecombe looked dreadfully shocked.

‘My dear Mrs. Smith!’

But he listened whilst she told him about William being hit over the head, about William being jabbed in the back, about the wheel being loosened on his car. When she had finished, he had stopped looking shocked. He said quite deliberately,

‘You’re thinking about Emily Salt, and so am I. But I never heard of her doing anything like that. And she couldn’t have had anything to do with the car – she’s been ill. To say nothing of not knowing the front end from the back.’

‘She really is ill?’ Katharine’s tone was tentative.

Abel nodded.

‘Abby says so. She’d know too – there isn’t much she doesn’t know about sickness. And I should say there’s nothing she don’t know about Emily. She’s lived with her for thirty years. How she’s done it, I don’t know, but there it is, she has. And I don’t think Emily could take her in – not after thirty years. But she’s coming to tea this afternoon – I’ll put it to her. Was that what you wanted?’

‘I’d be very glad if you would. It’s – it’s serious, Mr. Tattlecombe. What I really came to ask you was whether I might have part of the afternoon off. We’ve got to get to the bottom of this, and I’ve got an introduction to someone who I think might be able to help us.’

‘In what way, Mrs. Smith?’

Katharine did her best to explain Miss Silver. The extraordinary thing was that as she did so her own expectation of being helped was strongly increased. She didn’t know whether she was convincing Mr. Tattlecombe, but she was aware that she was convincing herself.

Abel was looking very doubtful.

‘Abby wouldn’t like the police brought into it,’ he said.

Katharine’s colour rose brightly.

‘Miss Silver isn’t connected with the police. She is a private enquiry agent. But if anyone is trying to do murder, the police are much more likely to come into it if the murderer isn’t stopped in time.’

Abel Tattlecombe nodded solemnly. If Emily had been up to tricks, they would have to put a stop to it, and he had always said that she ought to be in a home. He frowned.

‘There’s a thing you haven’t mentioned, but I won’t say I haven’t thought about it since William was struck down after coming to see me. It seems to me it’s a bit too much of a coincidence, me being struck down and William being struck down, and no connection between the two. It’s too similar for me – I don’t seem able to take it in. Seems to me it was one of us was aimed at both times. Seems to me now that it was William. We’d look pretty much about the same coming out into the street at night with the light behind us. But if it was William that was aimed at when I was struck down, then it couldn’t have been Emily Salt that did it.’

‘Why couldn’t it?’

Abel brought his hand down on his knee – the sound one.

‘Because it was the night of the chapel Social and Emily was there. Behaved very oddly too by all accounts. Regularly put out about it, Abby was – said if Emily came, the least she could do was to behave herself and not sit there staring as if she didn’t know what was going on round her and then come to and say something rude. I’ve never known Abby go so far about Emily before – she was right down provoked. And there’s no doubt about it, Emily Salt was at the Social. I don’t say that Emily has got any love for me, nor any reason for it, but I wouldn’t think she’d go so far as to come along here at half-past ten of a wet night to strike me down. And if it was William that was aimed at, what cause would she have to aim at him then? I didn’t alter my will or so much as mention the matter to Abby till I came out of hospital. So, let alone the chapel Social, there wasn’t any reason for her to do it. And what with her being sick in bed, and not knowing one end of a car from the other, I don’t see her meddling with William’s wheel. Why, she won’t so much as touch Abby’s sewing-machine. So I don’t see it could be Emily Salt.’ He nodded several times and looked at Katharine out of those very blue eyes.

After a moment she said,

‘May I have the afternoon off?’

He nodded again.

‘Yes, yes – to be sure. But I don’t see how it’s going to help. I don’t see how it could be Emily.’

Her voice was very low as she said, ‘It might be somebody else – ’

Mr. Tattlecombe gave her a sharp glance. He thought, ‘She’s got someone else in her mind.’ Aloud he said,

‘Someone wanting William out of the way? Jealous perhaps.’ His tone had sharpened too. ‘Jealousy’s a bad thing – works on them till they don’t rightly know what they’re doing. Cruel as the grave, like it says in the Bible. “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked.” ’ He became colloquial again. ‘You’d be surprised the things I’ve known jealous people do. You go and see this detective lady – seems a queer job for a woman, but there’s nothing they don’t do nowadays. But don’t get mixed up with the police if you can help it. And don’t let them go worrying Abby, for she won’t like it, and I don’t see how it could have been Emily Salt.’