The Key

CHAPTER TWENTY

IT IS ALL very extraordinary,’ said Miss Sophy.

She sat on the drawing-room sofa, billowing, with Garth on one side of her and Janice on the other. She had been holding a hand of each. She now withdrew what may be called Garth’s hand and dabbed her eyes with a fine linen handkerchief which had a large S embroidered on the corner in a perfect bower of forget-me-nots, tulips, and shamrocks, all exactly the same size. After which she patted Janice affectionately and folded both hands in her lap, keeping the handkerchief ready for the next dab.

‘Poor dear Medora! And she won’t tell me anything – not anything at all. She doesn’t even cry. You know, it really does you a great deal of good to cry when you are feeling unhappy.’ She turned from one to the other as she spoke, her fat white curls ably supporting the not inconsiderable weight of her best hat, which was trimmed with four yards of black velvet ribbon of prewar quality, three massive ostrich plumes, and a bunch of violets. Her eyes were very round, very blue, very bewildered. ‘I said to her, “Medora, if you can’t tell me what it is all about, do for goodness, gracious sake have a comfortable cry”, and I brought her a clean folded pocket handkerchief. But she just lay there and looked at me. So I said, “Well, Medora, I can’t force your confidence, and I won’t try, but if you don’t take your tea, I can send for Dr Edwards, and I will”. And I came away.’

‘I expect she took it,’ said Janice.

Miss Sophy dabbed again.

‘And where does that get us?’ she said in her soft fooffly voice. ‘We were so comfortable, and everything was so pleasant – except of course for the war. Poor Mr Harsch – such a fine musician – and Mr Everton and the Madocs – such a musical circle.’ She turned to Garth. ‘Miss Madoc is quite a good accompanist, and when Mr Madoc isn’t in a temper he has a very agreeable tenor voice – only he never would sing unless he wanted to, and he had to choose the music, which was sometimes a little awkward. But I should never have dreamed that there was anything between him and Medora. I always thought they didn’t even like each other.’

‘I expect that was the trouble, Aunt Sophy – they didn’t like each other, but they fell in love. It’s the sort of thing that’s likely to make trouble, isn’t it?’

Miss Sophy looked more bewildered than ever.

‘I don’t know, my dear boy. When I was a girl there was no one for me to fall in love with, so I never did – though a Mr Hoathley did propose to poor Papa for me, but it would have been very unsuitable, and Papa said no at once.’

‘Didn’t you get a chance of saying anything?’

She bridled.

‘My dear, I hardly knew him – he was a veterinary surgeon. I remember he had very nice curly hair, and I believe he afterwards had a very good practice in Brighton. But of course all that has nothing to do with this very distressing affair. Poor Medora! And then there’s Miss Madoc – I really can’t bear to think about her – so nice, and such a devoted sister! And Mr Madoc in prison! You know, my dear, I just can’t believe he did anything so dreadful. I don’t mean to say he hasn’t a very bad temper, because everyone knows that he has, but I always did think that he was fond of Mr Harsch – quite a softening influence, if you know what I mean. And if he is innocent, what a terrible, terrible thing for him to be accused of murdering his friend! I find it terribly upsetting. You know, it all seems quite different when you read about it in the papers, but when it is people you know, it doesn’t seem as if it could really be happening. And the dreadful part is that there isn’t anything one can do.’

Inside Janice’s mind something said, ‘Miss Silver.’ She began to tell Miss Sophy what Ida Mottram had said, but before she had got very far she was interrupted.

‘Miss Maud Silver? My dear, how extraordinary!’

‘Oh, Miss Sophy – why? Do you know about her?’

The three black feathers flapped as Miss Sophy nodded. She put up her hands, removed two large jet hatpins, took off the hat, and skewered it to the back of the sofa.

‘Handsome, but heavy,’ she said with a sigh of relief.

‘Mamma’s cousin, Oswald Everett, brought her the feathers from South Africa. They have worn extremely well, though not in fashion now. But Mary Anne Doncaster would take offence if I went to see her in anything but my best hat. Now what were we talking about? Oh, yes – Miss Silver.’

‘Ida says-’

Miss Sophy waved Ida Mottram away.

‘She means well, my dear, but quite between ourselves she’s a goose. Now I know all about Miss Silver.’

‘Aunt Sophy!’

‘Miss Sophy!’

Garth and Janice gazed at her.

She patted a hand of each in a very complacent manner.

‘Sophy Ferrars is a distant cousin of mine – through dear Mamma of course. An aunt of hers, Sophronisba Ferrars, married my grandfather’s brother. I am called after her, and so was she. And of course I don’t suppose you have ever heard of Sophy Ferrars, but her young cousin Laura Fane, a very charming girl, was placed in a most terrible position about eighteen months ago. It didn’t all get into the papers, but some of it did. Another cousin, Tanis Lyle, was murdered-’

Garth made a sudden exclamation.

‘The Prior’s Holt murder!’

Miss Sophy nodded in a pleased sort of way.

‘Yes, my dear. And Laura was very nearly murdered too. Sophy Ferrars wrote and told me all about it. If Miss Silver had not been staying in the house, almost anything might have happened. She was staying there just as an ordinary visitor.’ Her voice died suddenly away. Her mouth remained open, round and surprised, above three quivering chins. She fetched as deep a breath as she could and said, ‘Why shouldn’t she come here and stay with me?’