Through the Wall

Chapter 17

Just what had put the idea of a communal picnic into Miss Remington’s head it was impossible to say. She had liked men’s society, and always felt herself to have been unfairly deprived of it. This, and the fact that the next-door party appeared to have been augmented by two attractive men, may have been a contributory cause. There may have been other reasons-a desire to annoy Marian and Ina, who would doubtless prefer to keep their own party intact-Felix, whose manner had been quite insufferably rude for days-and her sister Florence, who detested picnics but would certainly not stay at home and allow Cassy to play hostess and run the show. Be this as it may, the idea having been once entertained, it became an overriding necessity that it should be put into action. As Eliza Cotton had it, “When Miss Cassy takes a thing into her head, she’ll go through with it whether or no.”

Cakes were baked, sandwiches were cut, everyone in both houses was pressed into service, and Florence Brand’s afternoon rest was interfered with. Not that she herself took any part in the preparations-on that point she could be, and was, inflexible. But how enjoy the meditative calm so propitious to digestion-the feet on a raised stool, a cushion behind the head, a light wrap over the knees, and a book whose pages were never turned laid open there-when Cassy was liable at any moment to come running in for this, that or the other, and go running out again, very likely omitting to close the door? Mrs. Brand’s slow, mounting resentment not only banished sleep, but induced a heavy frown and an unbecoming purple flush.

The dislike which she usually felt for the other inmates of the house assumed menacing proportions. Felix had been behaving abominably. She had never been fond of him, and she now found him quite unendurable. Helen Adrian was a light woman-in her own mind she used a blunter term than this. Marian Brand and her sister had practically stolen Martin’s money. When she considered all she had done for that man, giving up her independence to come and look after him, it just didn’t bear thinking about. She practically never stopped thinking about it. Penny was a little fool. No doubt she had thought that Felix would be a good catch, and now she couldn’t have him she had no more pride than to let everyone see how disappointed she was. Eliza Cotton-there was ingratitude and treachery if you like. A low, impertinent creature, ready to go wherever there was money to get, and probably counting on making a good thing out of the weekly books. Marian Brand wouldn’t know whether she was being cheated or not. As for Cassy, she was simply getting up this picnic in order to push herself forward. That was Cassy from the nursery-playing up, and showing off, and pulling things round to suit herself. Her anger mounted, and her heavy blood.

It was a warm afternoon, but there was quite a pleasant breeze off the sea. Miss Silver had found it hot in the bus. She wore her olive-green cashmere and her black cloth coat, which she would not have cared to remove in a public conveyance. She was, therefore, very much pleased to find that it was pleasantly fresh in the cove. There was, of course, no shade, a circumstance which made her compare the seaside unfavourably with places such as glades, where a picnic meal could be partaken of under the boughs of some stately oak or spreading chestnut-these being the adjectives which presented themselves to her mind in this connection. She had, however, provided herself with a neat striped umbrella belonging to her niece Ethel, which could be used as a sunshade.

It was not really a comfortable meal. Of the two elder ladies, Mrs. Brand was in a state of smouldering anger which she made no attempt to conceal, and Miss Remington was as sharp, restless and disturbing as a wasp. No sooner did any two people fall into a conversation than she broke in upon it, dancing hither and thither, pressing food on people who did not want it, snatching at the half-emptied cup in order to brim it with bitter tea, and generally making everyone as uncomfortable as possible.

Helen Adrian, who had begun a low-toned interchange with Cyril Felton, was driven into relinquishing him, but no sooner had she started all over again with Richard Cunningham than Miss Cassy broke off her own conversation with Cyril to say with an edge to her voice,

“Dear me, Helen, I had no idea that Mr. Cunningham was your friend. We all thought it was Marian he had come to see.” She turned to Miss Silver. “So romantic, you know- they were buried under a train together for hours.”

Marian found herself able to smile.

“You wouldn’t have thought it so romantic if you had been there,” she said. “Poor Richard had two ribs broken, and I thought I was never going to get the dust out of my hair. I came home looking as if I had robbed a scarecrow. You never saw such a mess.”

Across the currents of enmity of which Miss Silver was intelligently aware she saw Richard Cunningham’s eyes rest for a moment upon Marian Brand, and she thought that Miss Cassy had spoken a true word in bitter jest. It was a very fleeting look, and perhaps no one else saw it at all. She went on taking everything in whilst she made a little difficult conversation to Mrs. Brand, who could hardly be induced to say more than yes or no, and pronounced even those monosyllables in an inimical manner.

Ina Felton and Penny Halliday were both unhappy. She saw Penny look once at Felix Brand’s dark, tormented face with the unguarded look of a mother watching her sick child. It had nothing to hide and everything to give. It suffered because he was suffering. Helen Adrian never looked at him at all. She laughed and jested with Cyril Felton. She slipped her hand inside Richard Cunningham’s arm and dropped her voice to reach his ear alone.

Ina kept her eyes on the fine shingle of the cove. There were small shells mixed with it, most of them broken to pieces by the grinding of the stones. You have to be tough, or you get ground to bits. The shell hasn’t really got much chance.

The meal came to an end, a good deal to everyone’s relief. Whilst Miss Cassy was making the three men gather up the fragments and re-pack the picnic-basket Miss Silver approached Helen Adrian.

“There was a view you were going to show me. Round the next point, was it not? It will be pleasant to walk for a little. I find sitting on the beach rather cramping.”

Helen Adrian nodded.

“It’s the clothes-you want to be in a bathing-dress. But I suppose you wouldn’t agree with that.”

They had been moving as they spoke, and were now well away from the picnic group. Miss Silver coughed.

“Why did you ask me here, Miss Adrian?”

“Oh, I don’t know-”

“I think you do.”

“Oh, very well then-I wanted you to see them all.”

“Why?”

There was a hesitation, a sense of something withheld and then quite suddenly released.

“I wanted to know if it was all right to do what I said. About Cyril-and all the rest of it. I got a feeling-I expect it was stupid-”

“What kind of feeling?”

“Oh, I don’t know-”

Miss Silver looked at her very directly.

“I think you were afraid.”

“Why should I be?”

“I think you were. And I think you have reason. I think you are playing a very dangerous game. You are stirring up feelings which you may not be able to control.”

Helen Adrian laughed.

“I’m sorry-I really can’t help it. Cyril!”

Miss Silver shook her head.

“Not Mr. Felton-Mr. Felix Brand.”

Helen laughed again, this time with contempt.

“Oh, Felix? He’d lick my shoes if I wanted him to!”

Miss Silver said very seriously indeed,

“You asked me to come here this afternoon because you wanted me to see these people. Shall I tell you what I saw? Hatred-jealousy-spite-wounded affection-resentment -deep unhappiness. These things are not to be played with. They are dangerous. You have come to me for advice, and I am speaking plainly. You are meddling with dangerous matters. Leave them alone. Leave these people alone. Leave their house and return to London. Go back to your fiancé. Tell him the truth and marry him. If you wish me to do so, I will see Mr. Felton on your behalf. I think I can undertake that he will not annoy you further. He is not a strong or a determined character, and a threat to refer the matter to the police would, I feel quite sure, dispose of him.”

That sullen look which Miss Silver had seen before disfigured the curve of Helen Adrian’s mouth. She said in an obstinate voice,

“I won’t have the police brought into it.”

“There will be no need to bring them into it. The threat will be enough.”

The fair head was vigorously shaken.

“No-I’d rather take Cyril on myself.” Then, with a half laugh, “I’m not afraid of him!” She turned round and began to lead the way back to the cove. “I’m not really afraid of anyone-I just got the jitters. I’m all right again now. I’ll fix up with Cyril, and then perhaps I’ll take your advice and send a wire to Fred to meet me in town. It’s no good hanging on to things when they’re over, is it?”

When Miss Silver presently took her departure the party had thinned out and scattered. Mrs. Brand had gone into the house. Felix had disappeared, and so had Helen Adrian and Cyril Felton. Penny had wandered down to the edge of the sea. The tide was now far out. She stood quite motionless, bare-foot on the shining sand, her head a little bent. Beyond her the shallow water caught and reflected the sun. The sky overhead had a faint haze across its blue. The breeze had dropped. Ina had remained where she was, sifting the fine shingle through her fingers and never looking up.

Miss Cassy was doing most of the talking. She did not very often have an audience like Richard Cunningham. She asked innumerable questions, often interrupting an answer in order to put another question, and always spitefully aware that he would rather have been talking to Marian Brand. It gave her quite a lot of pleasure to prod him with her questions and make it impossible for him to get away. Marian, of course, was no match for her-a poor-spirited creature who didn’t even get angry. She shot her a contemptuous glance, and saw her sitting there with a look of half-smiling abstraction. No one would take her for an heiress in that old serge skirt and home-made jumper. Some people might say that the colour suited her, but the blue had run-or faded. It wouldn’t matter what she wore, she would never hold a candle to Helen Adrian. An odious girl, but you had to admit that she had looks and style. And a gift for walking off with the nearest young man. Where was she now? And where was Cyril Felton? And Felix? She went on rattling off questions at Richard Cunningham.

But when Miss Silver got up to go, he got up too. They walked up the terraced garden together and talked about Charles Moray, who was some sort of a cousin and a good deal of a friend.

With her slight prim cough Miss Silver admitted to a strong affection for Charles and Margaret.

“I have heard them speak of you, Mr. Cunningham.”

“They have very often spoken of you. I don’t know whether it is a forbidden subject, but I should like to express my admiration for your work.”

Miss Silver’s eyes dwelt upon him thoughtfully as she said,

“It is not generally known. It has always been possible to prevent my name appearing in the press. I should appreciate your discretion.”

He laughed.

“No advertisement? How very remarkable!”

She smiled.

“I have often found it very useful not to be remarked.”

“I know. I promise you I will be discreet. And you mustn’t blame Charles and Margaret, because it was Frank Abbott who had already aroused my interest.”

Miss Silver coughed.

“Inspector Abbott should have been more discreet.”

She encountered a smiling gaze.

“Won’t you drop the ‘Inspector’? I really do know Frank very well. Cousins of his are cousins of mine, and the reason he was indiscreet was that one of these cousins was in a position which was, to put it mildly, delicate. I consulted Frank, and he suggested you. When I stressed the difficulties of the situation, he talked-in fact I may say he let himself go. I have known Frank a long time, and I thought I knew him pretty well, but I had no idea that he had it in him to be a humble disciple.”

Miss Silver smiled indulgently.

“He sometimes talks a great deal of nonsense.”

Richard Cunningham laughed.

“He doesn’t usually run to humility. Frank has quite a fair opinion of himself. Well, as a matter of fact, the case I was concerned about cleared up without there being any need to trouble you. But I remained interested, and I am so very glad to have the opportunity of meeting you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cunningham.”