The Case of William Smith

Chapter Thirty-six

Miss Silver had rung the front door bell of 176 Selby Street about half an hour earlier. She came by appointment, and was most unwillingly received. That she was received at all was due to the fact that in the course of her brief telephone conversation with Mrs. Salt she had taken it upon herself to quote Mr. Tattlecombe with some authority.

‘He would, I think, advise you to see me.’

Abigail’s voice came back stiffly.

‘I do not always follow my brother’s advice.’

Miss Silver coughed.

‘In this instance you would, I think, be well advised to do so.’

‘Can you tell me why?’

‘He thought you would find it preferable to a more official visit.

Abigail Salt said in an expressionless voice,

‘You can come at five o’clock.’

Conducted to the upstairs parlour, Miss Silver seated herself and the interview began. In her quiet, restrained manner, Mrs. Salt was formidable. She took her own seat immediately below a grim photographic enlargement representing her mother-in-law in an alarming widow’s cap and a jetted chain strongly suggestive of a fetter. All the furniture in this room had belonged to old Mrs. Salt. It was out of date, without having attained to being antique, but it was solid and handsome, and had cost quite a lot in its day. Amid these surroundings Abigail Salt felt herself to be entrenched in the family tradition. The Salts had been well-to-do, respectable chapel people for a hundred years, and that is far enough for anyone to go back. The clock on the mantelpiece had come from the Great Exhibition of 1851.

Miss Silver could appreciate both the atmosphere and Mrs. Salt’s demeanour. She slightly inclined her head and observed,

‘It is very kind of you to see me.’

Receiving no reply, she pursued her theme.

‘Kind, and if I may say so, very wise.’

Abigail sat quite still with folded hands. She wore the dress reserved for Sundays and tea-parties. She wore her Honiton lace collar and her diamond brooch. These things gave her moral support. What she did not know was that they told Miss Silver she felt in need of it. She looked at her visitor’s well worn coat, at the rubbed fur about her neck, at the black felt hat which she would have considered too shabby to go out in, at the black woollen gloves which were such a contrast to the fur-lined pair reposing in her bedroom drawer next door. When, in spite of all this attention to all this detail, her eyes unwillingly returned to Miss Silver’s face, she looked away again almost at once.

Miss Silver gave her slight cough.

‘I will be quite frank with you, Mrs. Salt. Mr. Tattlecombe asked me to go and see him on Saturday evening, and when I did so he communicated to me the substance of his conversation with you that afternoon.’

Abigail pressed her lips together so tightly that they became a mere pale line. She said nothing.

Miss Silver continued,

‘You must, of course, be aware of the very serious nature of that conversation. What you told Mr. Tattlecombe amounted to an admission that it was your sister-in-law who assaulted Mr. William Smith. You spoke of finding Mr. Tattlecombe’s raincoat wet, and the kitchen poker out of its place and rusty.’

Abigail opened those closed lips and said,

‘I spoke to my brother in confidence.’

‘Mr. Tattlecombe is very much attached to Mr. Smith. He believes his life to be in danger.’

‘That is absurd.’

‘I do not think so. On the occasion of your brother’s accident he declared, and has since maintained, that he was ‘struck down’. That blow was, I believe, intended for William Smith. The second attempt was the one to which I have just referred. All the evidence points to Miss Salt as the assailant. On the third occasion, which might very well have proved fatal, William Smith was on his way back from a visit to this house. He was pushed in the back with a stick whilst waiting to cross the road from an island, and would have been thrown under a motor-omnibus if he had not been saved by the promptitude and strength of the gentleman next to him in the crowd. In the latest attempt one of the wheels of his car was loosened.’

‘My sister-in-law knows nothing at all about cars. And she was laid up all last week with an attack of influenza.’

‘So Mr. Tattlecombe informed me. I do not attribute the attack on your brother or the attempt on the car to Miss Emily Salt. I believe that the other two attempts can be attributed to her. You will see of course, as I have done from the first, that two people are involved. Miss Emily Salt is one of them. I have come to you to find out who is the other, and what is the connection between them.’

Abigail Salt sat there in her handsome dress, the grey curls of her hair neatly ordered, her eyes as round and blue as her brother’s, her cheeks rosy, her lips unnaturally compressed. She opened them to say,

‘I can’t help you.’

Miss Silver looked at her very steadily.

‘I think you can. I do not wish to be misleading. When I say I have come to you to find out who is the second person concerned in this affair, I mean that I have come to you to discover the link between this person and Miss Emily Salt. The person’s identity is known. Where you can help me is – ’

‘Miss Silver, I can’t help you.’

‘I believe you can.’

‘I know of no such person.’

Miss Silver put up a hand in its black woollen glove.

‘Mrs. Salt, I only ask that you will answer a few questions. If I do not ask them, the police will do so.’

The colour deepened in Abigail’s cheeks.

‘You can ask your questions. I can’t say whether I can answer them.’

Miss Silver smiled gravely.

‘I feel sure that you will endeavour to do so. Pray do not think that I do not appreciate the difficulty of your position. You have had a heavy charge in the care of Miss Emily Salt. You cannot have fulfilled it without being aware of certain things. Will you tell me whether she has ever shown any tendency to violence before?’

There was a silence. When it had lasted some time Miss Silver said gently,

‘I see.’

Abigail looked away.

‘It was a long time ago. She was jealous. I don’t want you to think it was worse than it was. I had a maid in the house then – a very nice, superior girl. She came to me and said that Emily had tried to push her down the stairs. I have thought it best not to have a resident maid since then. Emily gets jealous.’

‘And she was jealous of William Smith?’

‘My brother had made a will in his favour. She was vexed on my account.’

Miss Silver inclined her head.

‘I can see that she has been an anxious charge. These unstable temperaments are easily moved to jealousy and passion. They fall readily under the domination of a stronger will. I am seeking for evidence of such a domination. This is where I feel that you can help me.’

Abigail said, ‘No.’

She got another of those grave smiles.

‘I hope you can, and that if you can you will. Come, Mrs. Salt – when you look back, is there no one in the family, no friend or connection, with such an influence as I have described? If you can think of anyone of the sort, pray do not hesitate to tell me. You will not harm any innocent person, and you may be protecting your sister-in-law as well as William Smith. If, as I suspect, her peculiarities have been worked upon and she has been used as a tool, she may be in very grave danger. A tool which is no longer needed is quickly discarded by the criminal who has used it, and the discard is apt to be final.’

The gravity of Miss Silver’s voice and expression shook Abigail Salt. Her immobility was gone. She said in a different voice,

‘That sounds dreadful.’

The answer came back with an added gravity.

‘It might be even more dreadful than it sounds. Mrs. Salt, what associates, what friends, what connections has your sister-in-law had?’

‘Very few. She doesn’t make friends. As long as my mother-in-law lived she treated Emily as if she was a child. She was very stern with her – she directed everything she did. She would never admit that there was anything wrong. I think sometimes that if she had been differently treated she might have been different. She wasn’t allowed to do the same as other girls did. She hardly ever saw anyone outside the family – unless you count going to chapel.’

Miss Silver shook her head.

‘As you say, Mrs. Salt, most unwise treatment. But if there were no outside connections, was there perhaps anyone inside the family circle?’

‘There’s no one – ’ She broke off and then went on again. ‘There was a niece of hers – it’s some years ago now – Emily took one of her violent fancies for her. She gets them sometimes – they make her very tiresome. I was very glad when it faded.’

‘You say a niece?’

Abigail hesitated.

‘Well, in a way. That fact is I don’t know much about her. There was one of my husband’s sisters made a runaway marriage and the quarrel was never made up. I never met her, and the family never spoke about it. Then just before the war Emily met a cousin who said that a daughter of Mary’s had turned up. I forget how she’d come across her. She said she recognized her from her likeness to my mother-in-law.’ Abigail half turned and indicated the grim enlargement on the wall. ‘That’s how she was when I knew her, but she was considered very good-looking when she was young. You’d never think it, would you? Those enlargements don’t flatter anyone, but I’ve got a photograph in that album over there that shows you what she was like. I think her father was partly Italian. He had a restaurant in Bristol and he’d an Italian name, but her mother was English. Mary, the daughter who ran away, was like her, and by all accounts her daughter was too.’

‘Yes, Mrs. Salt?’

‘Well, there isn’t much more. Emily went to see this May, and she took one of her crazes about her. It was very tiresome indeed. Always running round with pots out of my jam-cupboard, or half a chicken, or the best part of a tongue, and no sooner any money in her pocket than it was out of it again – gloves for May – stockings for May – handbags. I put up with it because there wasn’t anything I could do and I hoped it would come to an end of itself, because presents or no presents, I didn’t think anyone would go on putting up with Emily for long – not unless they had to.’

The silence maintained through all the years of her life with Emily had been forcibly broken. Through the breach there came flooding in the realization of just what that association had cost Abigail Salt in friendship, in service, in constant daily effort.

Miss Silver answered words which had not been spoken.

‘It must have been a great strain.’

Abigail said, ‘Yes.’ A fleeting expression of surprise crossed her face. It may have been caused by her own recognition of what the strain had been, or she may have been wondering how Miss Silver came to know about it. After a moment she went on speaking.

‘May got tired of it – anyone would. There must have been a scene. Emily came home in the worst state I’ve ever seen her in. I couldn’t do anything with her. In the end I had to get the doctor, a thing I hadn’t had to do since my husband died.’

‘What did he say, Mrs. Salt?’

Words which she had never repeated came from Abigail now.

‘He said she might do herself or someone else a mischief. ’ Her colour changed, the surprised look came back. She said, ‘I’ve never told anyone before.’

‘Did he say anything else?’

‘He said she ought to be in a home. But she quieted down again and got back to her usual.’

‘That was before the war?’

‘Just before – that July or August.’

‘And was that all? Was there no recurrence of the friendship?’

Abigail hesitated.

‘Well, that’s just what I can’t say. I’ve thought sometimes – ’

‘Yes, Mrs. Salt?’

‘Well, there’s been something going on for the last two months, and I’ve wondered if it was that May again or – somebody else. Emily’s taken to slipping out in the evenings like she used to do – and not so natural in the winter. If I asked her where she’d been, she’d put herself in a state. I did put it to her point-blank, was she seeing May again, and she said she wasn’t. But it was just the same thing all over again – money just running away and food gone from the larder. There was a whole shape once when I’d got someone coming to supper, and no longer ago than this weekend a pot of my apple honey which I had set aside all ready to leave at my brother’s for William Smith and his wife.’

Miss Silver coughed.

‘Mrs. Salt, what is the name of this niece of Miss Emily Salt’s?’

‘May – ’

‘But what surname?’

‘Well, I believe it is Woods – Mrs. Woods – or Wood – I can’t really say which.’

‘And her maiden name?’

‘I really don’t know. Her mother ran away, as I told you, and the family never mentioned her. And Emily always spoke of this daughter as May, and to begin with when she spoke of her a good deal – I don’t know – I got the idea – but perhaps I had better not say.’

Miss Silver said firmly, ‘I think it would be better if you did.’

A slight frown appeared upon Abigail’s smooth forehead.

‘Well, it was just an idea I got that there was something – ’ She hesitated, and then came out with, ‘not too respectable. There was a good flat, and everything nice, but nothing about who the husband was or what he did – only that he came there sometimes, and that if he was coming May would ring up and put Emily off. I thought it sounded as if there was something wrong, and after the first once or twice Emily didn’t say anything more, and I thought perhaps she’d been told to hold her tongue.’

There was a pause, after which Miss Silver said thoughtfully,

‘Mrs. Salt, have you ever heard of Eversleys?’

Abigail’s eyes remained perfectly blank. She said,

‘No – ’ and then, ‘Mrs. Smith was a Miss Eversley.’

Miss Silver looked at her in a very searching manner.

‘William Smith is Mr. William Eversley. He has recovered his memory, and has been recognized by members of his family. He has a controlling interest in the firm, and there are some who may find his return inconvenient. Do you know anything at all about this?’

Abigail said in a bewildered voice,

‘Oh, no – how could I?’

Miss Silver continued to look at her.

‘I should like to put that same question to Miss Emily Salt.’

‘To Emily?’

‘Yes please. Mrs. Salt.’

Abigail got up and went out of the room. She left the door open behind her. Miss Silver heard her cross the passage and knock. After a moment the knock was repeated, and after that there was the sound of an opening door.

Abigail came back looking disturbed.

‘She must be out. Her coat is gone, and her hat. I don’t know why I didn’t hear her go.’

Miss Silver said, ‘She may not have wished you to do so.’ And then, ‘Perhaps I may wait until she returns. I think you spoke of a photograph of your mother-in-law. I should be interested to see it.’

The photograph-album lay, as it had done in old Mrs. Salt’s time, upon the highly polished pedestal table which occupied the centre of the room. In order that the polish might sustain no damage a crocheted woollen mat, originally moss-green relieved with salmon but now all gone away to a dim shade resembling lichen, had been interposed. The covers of the album were very highly embossed, and linked by a massive gilt clasp.

Drawing her chair to the table, Miss Silver watched with interest whilst a succession of Salt portraits were displayed, all very glossy and in a high state of preservation owing to the fact that they had hardly ever been allowed to see the light of day. They were of two sizes, cabinet and carte-de-visite, each photograph embedded in the thick cream-laid boards which formed the pages of the album – young men with beards; middle-aged men with muttonchop whiskers and the high wing collar popularized by William Ewart Gladstone; a little girl with striped stockings and a round comb in her hair, looking as if she had escaped from one of Tenniel’s illustrations to Alice in Wonderland; ladies with heavy braided skirts stretched over a crinoline; girls of the early eighties in jutting bustles and little tilted hats; babies smothered in pelisses; and dreadful little boys with curls and sailor suits.

At intervals Miss Silver murmured, ‘So interesting – ’ With a case mounting to its climax, she could still become absorbed in these pages from a family history which was in miniature the history of a rather splendid age. Here was a cross-section of the great middle class to which England owes so much, constantly replenished on the one hand from those who by dint of perseverance, push, and brains had fought their way up from below, and on the other from those offshoots of the aristocracy and landed gentry who as continually passed into it in the pursuit of a livelihood in trade, farming, or one of the lesser professions.

Abigail turned a page and disclosed an empty space. Her smooth forehead contracted. She said in a puzzled voice,

‘It should be here. Who can possibly have taken it out?’ And then in a quick, vexed way, ‘It must have been Emily. She must have wished to show it to May. She used to say there was a strong likeness. But it is really very wrong of her – she shouldn’t have done it!’

It was at this moment that Emily Salt entered the house. The opening and closing of the front door was plainly heard in the parlour. And then there was a pause. Abigail closed the album and laid it back upon the woolly mat. She rose to her feet and leaned over the table to fasten the heavy gold clasp. All this occupied the shortest possible space of time, but it was long enough.

Emily Salt shut the door behind her. She put her latchkey back in her bag and took something else out. She went towards the foot of the stairs.

Up in the parlour they heard her fall. With a startled look on her face Abigail went to the door, opened it, and called over the banisters,

‘Emily!’

But the word was hardly out of her mouth before she was running down. Miss Silver followed her. Emily Salt lay dead across the bottom step with part of a stick of chocolate clutched in her gloved right hand.