The Listening Eye

Chapter 23

SALLY was dancing with Wilfrid Gaunt. He was finding it amusing to propose to her under Moira’s eye, and to speculate as to how far its resemblance to Medusa’s would be increased if she were to guess what was happening. Sally was not amused, because the last thing she wanted was the kind of devastating scene of which Moira was capable, and the last thing Wilfrid wanted was to be taken at his word. If she had had the satisfaction of feeling that there was someone in love with her, even if David wasn’t, it would have been a solace. But Wilfrid wasn’t in love with anybody but himself. Her eyes were very bright as she said,

“Really, Wilfrid, it would serve you right if I were to say yes!”

“Darling, you’re not going to?”

“I said it would serve you right if I did, and so it would!”

He shook his head.

“It would be no good anyone marrying me if she couldn’t keep her temper.”

Some of the things which Sally had been thinking came boiling up to the surface. She said in a spirited undertone,

“Well, Moira wouldn’t keep her temper.”

He sighed.

“Darling, how right you are.”

Moira was dancing with Clay Masterson. He held her very close, and they did not speak. David Moray, straightening up from changing a record, watched them with frowning intensity. In the comfortable neighbourhood of the fire Miss Silver knitted and listened to Miss Bray’s interminable account of Moira’s wedding.

“Six bridesmaids in green, and the dresses were quite terribly expensive. But I would have preferred some other colour, only of course I wasn’t consulted. Bridesmaids are really very difficult, don’t you think? There was one very lumpy girl and she looked terrible. But she was the daughter of a man with a lot of influence about motor racing, and Oliver would insist on Moira having her. Moira and he had quite a dreadful quarrel about it, but he got his own way in the end-Oliver did, you know, even with Moira. I didn’t like him, but I thought perhaps it would be good for her if she married him, because he could make her do what he said. She didn’t like it, but she used to have to give way, and I think that was a good plan-don’t you?”

Miss Silver said in a restrained tone,

“That would depend on what he wanted her to do, would it not?”

It was at this point that Annabel Scott came over to them and stood warming herself. Half turning from the fire, she said,

“Oh, Lucius asked me to say would you mind coming to him in the study.”

The message did not surprise Miss Silver-Hilton’s entrance had not surprised her. She gathered up her knitting and made her way to the study, where she greeted Frank Abbott with the formality which she always observed in the presence of strangers.

Lucius Bellingdon stood with his back to the hearth looking grim. He said curtly,

“Sit down, please. I hear you rang up the Inspector and asked him to come here tonight.”

Miss Silver took the chair which he indicated. Her manner widened the distance between them. She said,

“Something had occurred which I felt should be imparted to the police without delay. If there had been time to consult you, I should have done so. I think Mrs. Scott will have given you an account of what happened.”

“Miss Jones’s visit-yes.”

She produced one of her sudden smiles.

“Then you will know that we came very near to being late for dinner. I did not feel that you would wish this to become a matter for comment.”

“No-I shouldn’t. Will you now tell me and Inspector Abbott just what made you risk being late?”

She told the story in her carefully accurate manner. Moira Herne was mentioned only in passing.

“Miss Jones had been up to the house, where I believe she saw Mrs. Herne. On her way down the drive she felt faint and lost consciousness. It was fortunate that I came upon her, as she had stumbled in among the bushes at the edge of the drive and she might not have been found for some time.”

Having introduced what she had to say with this economy of words, she described how Minnie had recognized a man who was coming out of the station at Ledlington, and how Annabel Scott had identified him as Mr. Arnold Bray.

When she had finished Frank Abbott said, “Let’s get all this as clear as we can. Miss Jones is a friend of Mr. Pegler, the caretaker at the Masters gallery. I think you saw him, Mr. Bellingdon.” Lucius Bellingdon said, “Yes.”

“Well, I saw him too. He is the only link we’ve got with the man who, according to Miss Paine, was one of the people who planned the theft of your necklace and the murder of your secretary. Up to now Pegler has been a complete wash-out. He saw this man, and he talked to him and told him all about Miss Paine, and how good she was at lip-reading. And it’s not much of a guess to suppose that he put the wind up him to a considerable extent, with the result that Miss Paine met with an accident-and I can’t help thinking that Mr. Pegler is lucky not to have met with one too. But after all that, the only description that Pegler could give was one which would have fitted almost anyone. And now Miss Jones says he recognized the man in the street-and after dark at that!”

Miss Silver sat with her hands folded on her knitting-bag.

“This man was standing under a street-lamp with Mr. Bray. They were waiting to cross the road. Miss Jones says that the light was good, and that Mr. Pegler never forgets a face. I believe it to be quite possible to have a good visual memory without possessing any faculty of description.”

Lucius Bellingdon said,

“What day was this?”

“Yesterday evening about eight o’clock.”

“Then you’d better get hold of Arnold Bray and ask him who he was with last night, Inspector.”

“Yes, we’ll do that.”

Lucius gave a short, hard laugh.

“You may get something out of him if you scare him enough. What no one is going to get me to believe is that Arnold had any hand in stealing the necklace or shooting Arthur Hughes!”