It was about three-quarters of an hour later that Miss Silver, coming through the hall, was aware of Adrian Grey emerging from the passage which led to the study. He was not alone, and his companion was Detective Inspector Abbott. She had been about to go upstairs, but she paused and waited for them with a smiling face and an outstretched hand.
Frank Abbot took the hand and reciprocated the smile. Adrian Grey having mentioned that there was a Miss Silver staying in the house, he was by no means unprepared for the appearance of the lady whom he had been known in moments of expansion to address as Revered Preceptress. They were, all jesting apart, on a footing of deep attachment, and, upon Frank’s side, of a most unfeigned respect. As always in the presence of a stranger, she addressed him with formality.
‘Inspector Abbott-this is indeed a pleasure!’
Frank, on his side, was equally punctilious.
‘My dear Miss Silver! Grey told me that you were here. Perhaps we could have a talk-if you can spare me a little time?’
Adrian passed on, and they were alone. Miss Silver coughed.
‘I should appreciate the opportunity.’
Frank shed his formal manner.
‘Then come along to the study and give me the low-down on everything and everyone.’
She said, ‘My dear Frank!’ but her tone was an indulgent one.
They went down the passage together and came into the study.
No trace of the tragedy remained. Herbert Whitall’s body had been removed long ago. The photographer and the fingerprint man had done their work. The room had been ordered. The light which had shone down upon such a terrible scene now disclosed no trace of it. There was not even a stain on the deep-toned carpet to show where the ivory dagger had dropped from Lila’s bloodstained hand-if indeed it had so dropped. The couch upon which Adrian Grey had laid her stood at its accustomed angle to the fire. A bed of glowing ash sent out a pleasant warmth.
Miss Silver sat down on the sofa, not too near the fire, because the room was really very comfortable, whilst Frank Abbott arranged himself in a casual attitude on the arm of one of the big chairs. When she had opened her knitting-bag and extracted from it little Josephine’s vest and a crochet-hook she found him regarding her with a quizzical smile.
‘Grey tells me that you have been here since one o’clock. You therefore already know all. How much are you going to tell me?’
She drew on a pale pink ball and began to finish off the neck of the vest with a neat crochet edging.
‘My dear Frank, you sometimes talk very great nonsense.’
He laughed.
‘Well, I would like to know who did it. Was it the lovely Lila?’
‘I do not think so.’
‘No more do I. But if it were not for one extraordinary lucky fact, I should say that nine juries out of ten would hardly leave the box-unless they were so overcome by her looks that they couldn’t bring themselves to believe the evidence. I mean, just consider it. I suppose you have heard about the scene in the drawing-room last night-the Lucia di Lammermoor business, with a John McCormack record on the gramophone and Mrs. Considine imparting the story of the opera-the unfortunate Lucy going mad and stabbing her bridegroom. I’ve just had it all from Haile, and he says Lila Dryden was a good deal affected. I gather she didn’t like her bridegroom much better than Lucy liked hers. Grey tried to soft-pedal the whole thing, but you can imagine that the prosecution could make a good deal of play with it. Well, the guests go away at half past ten. Everyone goes upstairs except Whitall, who is in the habit of sitting up late. Round about midnight Lila Dryden comes down, presumably to meet the devoted Bill Waring. A note from him urging her to elope was found in her room. For some reason she opens the glass door in the study instead of the window indicated by him in what, I believe, they call the Blue Room. I can’t think of any reason why she should have done this but apparently she did. She is interrupted by Herbert Whitall. She turns round from the window, sees him, picks up up the dagger which is lying on the writing-table, and strikes blindly with it. As luck will have it, she hits a vital spot. He staggers back and falls. The dagger drops from her hand, staining her dress. Then Mr. Bill Waring, who has got tired of waiting in front of the house, comes up on to the terrace, sees the light, finds the door ajar, and walks in. And at practically the same moment Mr. Adrian Grey comes in by the open door from the passage. He and Bill Waring see each other, and they both see Lila Dryden. She faints. Adrian Grey puts her on the sofa-and by the way, it is rather illuminating that it was into his arms she threw herself and not Bill Waring’s.’
Miss Silver said primly, ‘He is a very old friend.’
‘So everyone tells me. Well, he puts Lila on the sofa, and he and Bill have a short dramatic conversation which interests them both so much that neither of them notices that the door has been opened. This time it is Mr. Haile who butts in, but not at all obtrusively. He stands and listens. Here’s his statement of what he heard.’ He opened an attaché case which he had set down in the lap of the chair, took out a typewritten sheet, and began to read.
‘Waring said, “I came to take her away. I told her to meet me. I said I’d be outside that room to the left of the hall.” Grey said, “Then why are you here?” and Waring said, “She didn’t come. I thought I would walk round the house. I saw a light-I saw Lila. The door was ajar. I came in.” Grey said, “You’re sure you didn’t kill him?” and Waring said, “My God, no! He was dead. She was standing there like you saw her, with the blood on her hand.” After that they talked about what they were going to do. There was a stain on her dress. They didn’t think it would come out, and if they destroyed the dress it would be missed. Grey told Waring to clear out and get back to town. If he stayed it would drag Lila in. He had got to get out. Grey said he would say he heard Lila come out of her room and followed her down the stairs, that he was behind her all the way, and that Herbert Whitall was dead when they reached the study. Lila must have touched him and got the blood on her that way. He had been dead some time. When he had said all this, he said it was a good story and it would stick. And I came into the room and said I didn’t think it was quite good enough.’
He folded up the statement and tossed it back into the case.
‘There, gentlemen of the jury-that is the case for the prosecution, and a pretty damning case it is.’
Miss Silver let the adjective pass without reproof.
‘And what is the case for the defence? You mentioned an extraordinarily lucky circumstance.’
‘Oh, it’s the medical evidence. Bill Waring says he heard twelve o’clock strike before he started to walk round the house. Whether you accept that or not, Haile says he looked at the clock as he came into the study, and it was just after ten past twelve. He rang up the police at once, and they were there in half an hour. Dr. Everett was out on a case in this direction, and they picked him up on their way. Well, he swears that the man had been dead for an hour at the very least, and the postmortem bears that out. If Lila Dryden stabbed him she wouldn’t have just stood there for a good half hour or so. The same applies to Bill Waring and Adrian Grey. Granted they were both in love with Lila Dryden-and that gives either of them a motive for getting rid of Whitall-why in heaven’s name should they hang about on the scene of the crime for half an hour? It doesn’t make sense, and I think it lets them out. Besides stabbing-it’s really not the sort of thing you would expect either of them to go in for. I can see Grey reasoning with Whitall, and I can see Bill Waring knocking him out, but I can’t see either of them stabbing him with a gimcrack fancy dagger. I don’t know how that strikes you?’
Miss Silver said,
‘Very much as it strikes you, my dear Frank. I have not as yet had an opportunity of meeting Mr. Waring, but from what I have heard of him it would not seem to be at all in character that he should stab Sir Herbert. There would, for one thing, be no need for him to do so. I understand that he is a powerful young man. If, for instance, Sir Herbert had interrupted Miss Dryden’s projected elopement and proceeded to resist it by force, it would, I gather, have been an easy matter for Mr. Waring to knock him down. He has been described to me as an expert boxer.’
Frank nodded.
‘As you say. Two hearts that beat as one! Quotation from classical poem whose author I forget. To proceed. Setting Lila Dryden, Adrian Grey and Bill Waring aside for the moment, what ideas have you?’
The crochet-hook went in and out, making a delicate shell pattern about the neck of little Josephine’s vest.
‘None, I think, that I can formulate at the moment. There are, however, a few points.’ Her gaze dwelt upon him thoughtfully. ‘The Ivory Dagger. It was, I understand, exhibited to Sir Herbert’s guests last night, and afterwards locked away by him.’
‘Yes, that is so. As to the locking away, Adrian Grey, Mrs. Considine, and Professor Richardson are all prepared to swear to that. Lila Dryden says she didn’t notice it, but he always locked his ivory things away. Lady Dryden says she wasn’t interested. Miss Whitaker was not in the room, and Mr. Considine and Mr. Haile were talking about gramophone records and not taking any notice.’
‘Then how did it come about that the dagger was here in the study, conveniently to a murder’s hand?’
‘Oh, I think that is easily explained. Whitall had an argument with the Professor about its authenticity. I expect old Richardson stung him up, and he went and fetched the dagger after the others had gone up. It would be quite a natural thing for him to do. And there is this support for the theory that he did do it.’ He got up, went over to the writing-table, and came back with a small cylindrical object in the palm of his hand. ‘You see what it is-a jeweller’s magnifying-glass. It had rolled under the table. They’ve been over it for fingerprints, so it doesn’t matter about handling it. A bit of a muddle, I gather, but a good plain mark of Whitall’s thumb right on top.’
‘You think he was examining the dagger?’
‘Yes, I think we may assume that he was. In which case it would be lying there on the table, and very handy for anyone who wanted to do him in. Any other points?’
Miss Silver drew her wool through a loop and fastened it off. The neck of the little pink vest was finished. She turned her attention to a sleeve.
‘Yes, Frank. There is my position in this house.’
‘Well, I’m never surprised to see you, because you do keep on cropping up. But I was just wondering how you came to be here-so soon.’
Miss Silver gave a gentle cough.
‘Lady Dryden called up Miss Fortescue between the discovery of the murder and the arrival of the police. She told her to get in touch with me and bring me down here as soon as possible.’
‘You know Lady Dryden?’
‘I have met her. She is Lady Urtingham’s cousin.’
‘Well, well. And the point you wish to raise?’
‘My position in the case. I am not entirely happy about it. I have said to Lady Dryden what I say to every client-I do not come into a case to prove anyone innocent, or guilty, I come into it to discover the truth and to serve the ends of justice. Lady Dryden replied that her niece was innocent, and that the discovery of the truth would prove her innocence. I went on to say that in any criminal case, and particularly in a murder case, a very strong light is turned upon the thoughts, the actions, and the lives of everyone directly or indirectly connected with it. I pointed out that it was not always possible to say what will or will not come out. She drew herself up and said that she and her niece had nothing to hide. I told her that if she were not really willing to be taken at her word, I could retire from the case, but if I undertook it I must have a free hand and feel myself at liberty to consult with the police. She replied coldly that neither she nor Miss Dryden had anything whatever to conceal, and that her sole object in retaining my services was to arrive at the real facts of the case.’
Frank’s fair eyebrows lifted.
‘I am reminded of “Perhaps it is right to dissemble your love, but why need you kick me downstairs?” Do you usually press a client as far as that?’
There was a silence long enough to be marked before she said,
‘No, Frank.’
‘Meaning?’
‘I think that, in spite of her disclaimers, Lady Dryden has something to hide.’
‘Then why import you into the case?’
The crochet-hook went in and out, making little pink shells.
‘She was very much alarmed about her niece’s position. She was desperately anxious to avoid an arrest and the consequent blow to her own social position. She had heard exaggerated stories, and believed me to have some influence with the police. She hoped that I should be a channel through which her views might percolate. Those, I think, were her reasons for sending for me in the first place, and for retaining me after I had made my position clear. I do not wish you to think that I believe her to have been directly concerned in the murder.’
‘You said she had something to hide.’
‘Yes. I have asked myself why she should have been forcing her niece into this marriage.’
‘It was like that?’
‘Very much so. And I have wondered about her motive.’
Frank Abbott regarded her quizzically.
‘One has heard of it being done, you know. The lovely Lila is a social asset. Lady Dryden would expect her to make a brilliant match. Bill Waring is merely a nice chap with decent prospects. The late Whitall had what it takes nowadays-enough capital to live on till the cows come over. Lady Dryden may merely have wanted to wipe the eye of her dearest friends, whose plainer daughters were making better matches. Or she may have wanted some of that capital.’ He paused, and added, ‘Or do you mean anything more sinister than that?’
Miss Silver had begun upon the edging of the second sleeve. She said gravely,
‘I think so. I have understood both from Lady Urtingham and from Miss Fortescue that the late Sir John Dryden was a wealthy man, and that he was devoted to the child whom he had adopted. On the way down in the train Miss Fortescue said that the marriage with Bill Waring would have been quite possible with what he is getting now and what Sir John left Miss Dryden. Yet Lady Dryden had been at some pains to impress upon me that, owing to substantial losses, her husband had not been able to do what he wished, and that her own resources were very limited.’
‘And what do you think that adds up to?’
Miss Silver said,
‘I should like to know the terms of Sir John Dryden’s will- how much was left to Lila, and who were the trustees.’
Frank whistled softly.
‘Well, we can do that. In what way do you think it may be relevant?’
‘There may have been a money motive for the murder. It could be a strong one. You see, there is the question of Sir Herbert Whitall’s will. There was an old will which was to be superseded by one made in anticipation of his marriage to Lila Dryden. The marriage was to have taken place next Thursday, but no one seems to know whether Sir Herbert had in fact signed the new will.’
Frank Abbot laughed.
‘You have been here-what is it-a matter of six hours. Wasn’t I right when I said I was sure you already knew everything there was to know?’
Her glance reproved him.
‘My dear Frank! Lady Dryden and I were together in the drawing-room for the greater part of the afternoon. She believes, or is very anxious to persuade herself, that Sir Herbert had already signed this new will. She says he informed her a week ago that he was on the point of doing so. On the other hand, I can see that the attitude adopted by Mr. Haile fills her with apprehension. He has certainly assumed a good deal of authority.’
‘Next of kin, isn’t he?’
‘I believe there is no other relative. Lady Dryden informs me that he was in the habit of borrowing from his cousin-that Sir Herbert informed her last night before dinner that he was expecting an application of this nature from Mr. Haile and intimated that it would be refused. She says Mr. Haile arrived early and did have an interview with Sir Herbert.’
Frank said, ‘I see.’ He got up and stood with his back to the fire. ‘There’s something to think about there. If the new will was signed, presumably Lila Dryden would get a large share of the money, and Lady Dryden would profit. That might give her a motive for bumping Herbert off. But it’s a poor one. There would have to be something more than that, and they seem to have been on perfectly good terms. On the other hand, if Haile knew, or believed, that the old will was still in force, and that he benefited under it to any considerable extent, he would, have quite a strong motive for putting Whitall out of the way before a new will could be signed, especially if he was pretty badly broke and had just been refused a loan. Do you know, I rather begin to fancy Haile as a suspect. Let us consider him in that light. The butler says in his statement that he went round the downstairs rooms as usual at eleven o’clock, but when he got to the study he didn’t go in because he heard voices. Says Sir Herbert was in the habit of sitting up late, and he thought he was there with Mr. Haile. Haile says he did look in for a moment or two after the others had gone upstairs, but by eleven o’clock he was undressed and ready for bed. Says Grey passed his room when he had the door open and must have seen him in his pyjamas. Grey duly corroborates. Of course a person who had gone upstairs could just as easily have come down again, and neither Marsham nor Grey would have any reason to be very exact about the time. But on the face of it, it doesn’t seem so likely that it was Haile who was in the study with Sir Herbert. We won’t rule him out, and we will continue to consider him. He was so very conveniently on the spot to walk in on Gray and Waring with the lovely Lila in what could hardly have been a more compromising situation. It seems to me just a little too opportune. He says he couldn’t sleep, got up, and went to look out of the window. His room is at the side of the house, and there is a path between shrubs, and a flat paved walk right under the house. That’s the way Bill Waring came. Haile says he looked out and thought there was someone on the path between the shrubs. He says he can’t say he exactly heard or saw anyone. He just thought there was someone there, or something -it might have been a dog or a cat. Now, curiously enough, Bill Waring says very much the same thing. He says he thought someone or something was on the shrubbery path when he was waiting in front of the house. He is just as vague about it as Haile. Neither of them will go farther than thinking there might be someone there. Bill Waring says he didn’t start to go round to the study until a good ten minutes later, and that doesn’t fit in with Haile, because Haile says he thought he ought to investigate, so he put on a coat and came downstairs. He says he was going to go out on the terrace by way of the glass door in the study. When he got to the door from the passage he heard voices, opened the door an inch or two, was appalled at what he heard, and decided to listen in. Well, it could be true, but I don’t think it explains why he came downstairs. Either he saw, or perhaps heard, something a good deal more definite when he looked out of his bedroom window than he is prepared to admit, or he had some other reason for going down to the study. You don’t hurtle out into the night because you think there may be a stray cat in the grounds-there’s bound to be more to it than that. I daresay he looked out of his window and heard whatever it was Bill Waring heard, but it must have been at least twenty minutes later that he walked into the study and told Adrian Grey his story wouldn’t wash.’
Miss Silver had completed the second sleeve of little Josephine’s vest. She broke the pink wool thread, pulled it through the last loop, and said,
‘There is certainly a discrepancy.’
He nodded.
‘I think Mr. Haile’s affairs will bear looking into. If he inherited under the old will, and knew that he was going to be cut out under the new one, you get a pretty strong motive.’
Miss Silver said primly.
‘ “The lust of gain in the heart of Cain,” as Lord Tennyson says.’
‘The mot juste, as always!’
She looked at him with gravity.
‘Mr. Haile would have a strong motive, as you say. He has been at some pains to impress upon me that Lila Dryden must have committed the crime, either walking in her sleep, or in a fit of temporary derangement.’
Frank came back to his seat on the arm of the chair.
‘A curious business sleep-walking. How much does anyone really know about it? The person is asleep, the mind somewhere else. But some of the senses seem to operate. Or do they? The sleep-walker moves about a house, goes out-on a roof, into a garden-they’ve been known, I believe, to walk for miles! He goes where he wants to go, he doesn’t bump into things, and as a rule he doesn’t come to any harm. What guides him? Does he walk by sight, or by some sense that we don’t know anything about?’
Miss Silver had taken out her knitting-needles and was casting on. She said in a thoughtful voice,
‘I do not know. I knew a woman once who told me a very curious story. She was a Devonshire woman, and she was friendly with a farmer’s wife in the neighbourhood. This woman woke up in the night and found her husband gone. She supposed that he had got up to attend to one of the beasts, and she turned over and went to sleep. When she woke again it was beginning to get light. She heard her husband coming up the stairs. When he came into the room she spoke to him, but he did not answer, and she saw that he was asleep. He had on trousers and boots. He came in with a big bunch of heather in his hand. He laid it down on the counterpane, pulled off his boots and trousers, and got into bed, all without waking. He slept for about half an hour, and then woke up without the least idea that he had left his bed. He did not know that he had ever walked in his sleep before, and he had no recollection of any dream. And the nearest place where he could have picked the heather was up on the moors seven miles away. He had risen, dressed, walked fourteen miles in the night, and come back with his bunch of heather. That is a true story. I do not feel at all able to explain it.’
‘Nor I. But I suppose he must have had his dream about the heather, and come and gone in it. And then forgotten the whole thing. And that I suppose is what Lila Dryden might have done-if it were not for the medical evidence. She could have dreamed she was Lucy Ashton, stabbed Whitall in her dream, and forgotten all about it when she woke again. But the medical evidence being what it is, I think it rules that out. Even if Grey is lying when he says he followed her down from her room, I can’t believe she just stood there for that extra half-hour which has got to be accounted for. If Whitall was dead half an hour before Grey and Waring reached the study, then I don’t believe that Lila Dryden was there when he was killed. She wandered in afterwards. You agree?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Then I must get back to Haile and the question of whether he is suspect number one. He is doing his best to throw suspicion on Lila Dryden. The question is, did he have a motive for killing Herbert Whitall? If he knew that he was coming into the money under the old will, and that the new will had not been signed, then he did have a motive. Look here, what about having the secretary in? She would probably know whether the will had been signed or not. Anyhow it’s worth trying.’
As he got up and went over to press the bell, Miss Silver stopped knitting for a moment. If he had been looking in her direction he might have received the impression that she was about to speak. She did not, however, do so, and by the time that he returned to his seat she was counting stitches in an abstracted manner.