The Catherine Wheel

CHAPTER 20

Mrs. Bridling left with regret. She didn’t know when she’d enjoyed anything more, but like all the great moments of life it was over too soon. There was a hymn they used to sing in Sunday school:-

“Fleeting ever, fleeting onward,

Earthly joys will never stay.”

The lines came to her mind regretfully. Over it was, but it would be something to tell Mr. Bridling when she got home.

She came through the door between Castell’s office and the lounge and sat down to wait until they should be finished with John Higgins. After due consideration she had rejected the idea of going through into the kitchen to see Annie Castell. For one thing, here she was in her best, and with Annie working it wouldn’t seem hardly friendly not to give her a hand. She wasn’t ever one to stand by and watch other people work, but risk spotting her best dress was more than could be expected. The lounge was empty. She picked a comfortable chair and sat down to wait.

John Higgins was in the office, sitting with a hand on either knee, his fair hair standing up in a shock, and his blue eyes steady on the Inspector. Frank Abbott thought, “Solid, dependable chap. Hope he didn’t do it. Not the type to stab a man in the back. Unless-” Suppose the fellow had caught hold of Eily Fogarty and John Higgins had come upon them struggling. No, that wouldn’t do. There was no doubt where the knife had come from-that trophy on the chimney-breast in the dining-room. Whoever used it had got to get it from there. It wouldn’t be lying about in the hall to be snatched up on the spur of the moment.

John Higgins said,

“Yes, I walked over last night to see Miss Fogarty.”

Crisp balanced his pencil.

“Mrs. Bridling told you that there had been a scene with Luke White?”

“Yes. I went over to tell Miss Fogarty that she must leave in the morning. It wasn’t fit for her to be there. We are going to be married, and I told her she could stay with Mrs. Bridling while I got it all fixed up.”

“Did she tell you that the key of her room was missing?”

Angry colour swept up to the roots of the fair hair.

“Yes. I told her to go along to Miss Heron’s room and ask if she could stay there.”

Crisp’s bristling dark eyebrows rose.

“Do you know Miss Heron? Is she a friend of yours?”

John Higgins said, “I was sure that she would let Eily stay with her.”

Crisp stabbed at the blotting-paper.

“You had quite a talk with Miss Fogarty, didn’t you?”

“We talked.”

“For how long?”

“I couldn’t say.”

“An hour?”

John Higgins shook his head.

“Not near so long.”

“Half an hour?”

Another slow head-shake.

“More like a quarter, but I won’t swear to it.”

“And where did this conversation take place?”

“Eily was up at her window.”

“And you?”

“Down underneath.”

“Sure she didn’t let you in?”

The blue eyes looked at him very directly.

“She wouldn’t do that, and I wouldn’t ask her to.”

“That’s no answer. Did she let you in last night?”

“No, she did not.”

“Sure about that?”

John Higgins said in a hard, steady voice,

“It’s five years since I’ve been over the threshold of this house till I came here today.”

“Why?”

He gave the same answer that he had given in John Taylor’s office.

“That’s my business.”

Crisp stabbed at him with his pencil.

“Nobody’s got any private business in a murder case. Mrs. Castell is your aunt, isn’t she? What’s your quarrel with her?”

“I’ve no quarrel with my Aunt Annie.”

“Then with Castell-what’s your quarrel with him?”

“I’ve no quarrel with him. I don’t like his company. He would tell you that he doesn’t like mine. We go our own ways.”

Crisp shifted impatiently in his chair.

“We’ve got away from the point. You know that a man was murdered here last night-the barman, Luke White?”

John Higgins nodded.

“That kind of news travels fast.”

“You had a quarrel with the man, hadn’t you?”

“I had no quarrel with him.”

“Not after you’d heard what Mrs. Bridling had to say?”

The muscles of the big hands lying on either knee tensed, the knuckles stood up white. John Higgins said in his steady, deep voice,

“He was an evil-liver. It wasn’t fit for Eily to be under the same roof. I’d have fetched her away as soon as it was day.”

Crisp repeated the last words.

“As soon as it was day. But what about last night? You came out here hotfoot after you’d seen Mrs. Bridling. Are you going to say Eily Fogarty didn’t let you in?”

“I’ve said so.”

“And you sent her along to Miss Heron’s room and didn’t see her again?”

“I didn’t see her again.”

“Do you think she stayed with Miss Heron?”

“Of course she did.”

Crisp gave another of those darting stabs.

“Then how do you account for the fact that she was found down in the hall in her nightgown, and Luke White not a yard away from her with the knife in his back?”

The blood rushed powerfully to John Higgins’ face. He sprang to his feet and stood there, his hands on the table edge, gripping it hard.

“Eily-” he said. His voice caught on the name. He tried for it again, and as he did so, the hot blood drained away and left him ashy pale.

Miss Silver laid her knitting down on the floor beside her chair and got up. At the touch of her hand on his arm he turned and looked at her, an agonized question in his eyes. She said in a kind, cheerful voice,

“You have no need to be anxious, Mr. Higgins. Eily is quite safe.”

His look went blank for a moment.

“Safe-”

“She is perfectly safe, Mr. Higgins. Nothing has happened to her-nothing at all.”

He said in a stumbling voice,

“She was down there-with that man-”

“She heard a noise and came down and found him. It was a shock of course, but she is quite safe.”

Frank Abbott had a moment of unreasoned admiration for his Miss Silver. At what she considered the dictates of humanity she would without hesitation sacrifice a point in the game. She had in fact just done so, and it was annoying Inspector Crisp very much. He said with an angry edge to his voice,

“I think you had better leave this to me, Miss Silver. We have no evidence to support Eily Fogarty’s statement. If I may say so, you had no business to repeat it.”

Miss Silver turned a look of calm rebuke upon him.

“I beg your pardon, Inspector.”

Nothing could have been more proper than the words, yet in some singular manner Inspector Crisp had the feeling that his collar was too tight, and that he did not quite know what to do with his hands and feet. These were sensations which had afflicted him in his teens, now many years behind him. He had hoped never to experience them again, but during the moments that he had to support Miss Silver’s gaze they were uncomfortably prominent. It was with a good deal of relief that he saw her turn back to John Higgins. She gave a little cough and said in a confidential voice,

“You really need not be troubled about Eily. Miss Heron is with her all the time. They are doing the bedrooms together.” After which she resumed her seat and her knitting.

Inspector Crisp’s collar returned to its normal size. He felt an urgent need to assert himself. His tone was brusque as he said,

“Sit down, Higgins! Eily Fogarty says she heard a noise and came downstairs. If that’s true, the noise may have been made by the murderer. Suppose there was a window open in the lounge. I’m not saying who opened it, or for what purpose. I’m not saying it was Eily Fogarty, but it could have been. I’m not saying anyone came in that way, but you can see for yourself that someone might have done, and you can see for yourself that it might have been you. Eily Fogarty was seen to come out of the lounge with Luke White lying dead in the hall. She could have been shutting that window after you.”

John Higgins shook his head.

“I neither came in nor went out,” he said.

Crisp made a sharp thrust with his pencil.

“There was a window unlatched in the lounge.”