Through the Wall

Chapter 42

During the short time which elapsed before the arrival of the police Miss Silver witnessed a curious little scene. The telephone was in the dining-room, and she had perforce to leave Penny in order to ring up the station at Ledlington. She did so with reluctance, and made what haste she could to return. She had a tenderness for young girls, and was concerned for the shock which had been suffered.

As she came up the stairs, Felix Brand’s door was thrown open and he came out on to the landing, a pair of trousers hastily pulled on, his pyjama jacket open at the throat, his black hair standing on end like the crest on a helmet. Seeing Miss Silver, who had by then arrived upon the top step, he checked, stared, and called out,

“What’s happening?”

Miss Silver coughed.

“Miss Remington has, I believe, just made an attempt upon Penny’s life.”

His face worked. He said, “Penny-” in a stunned voice. And, as if it had been a call to her, she came running out of Cassy Remington’s room, stumbling and weeping, to fling herself into his arms. They closed round her. The dark dishevelled head was bent. They murmured incoherences which were meant for each other and for no one else.

Miss Silver took the opportunity of returning to her room and resuming her shoes, a very neat pair with little beaded bows reserved for evening wear. Competent as she was to confront any situation with dignity, she would not have wished to meet Inspector Crisp in her stocking feet. The loss of an inch in height alone-to say nothing of the distaste which a gentlewoman feels for appearing in public with her toilet incomplete!

When she had put on her shoes she went up the steep attic stair to knock upon Eliza’s door and acquaint her with what had happened. It appeared that Eliza was not surprised.

“A spiteful little toad if there ever was one. Always wanting what she hadn’t got, and the sharp end of her tongue for those that had it. Mr. Brand couldn’t abide her, and that’s a fact. But Penny that never harmed a soul!” Eliza reached for a formidable flannel dressing-gown. “She’ll take it hard. You shouldn’t have left her.”

Miss Silver smiled in a perfectly amiable manner and advised her to dress.

“Penny is with Mr. Felix, and I believe he is comforting her better than anyone else could. Perhaps you would put a kettle on. I expect we shall all be glad of a cup of tea presently. I am afraid that it may be very late indeed before we get to bed.”

It was very late indeed. But in the end the search was given up and the police departed, to return again with the first of the daylight. The tide was out, and in the light before the sunrise the wet sands and the rocks which ran out across them on either side of the cove had something of the look of a silverpoint drawing. There was no colour yet. Sky and sea, rock, sand and shingle, waited for it. With the first touch of the sun there would be blue shoaling to green and amethyst in the water, and pale forget-me-not blue in the sky. The rocks would have their olive and purple shadows, and sand and shingle would shine in all the shades from gold to brown. But the sun had not yet risen, and everything was grey and chill when the two constables whom Crisp had sent to resume the search came on the body of Cassy Remington in one of the rocky pools. Just how she got there, no one would ever know. In the panic fear which had sent her running from the house she may have forgotten that the tide was up and stumbled into deep water before she could check herself. There was a sudden drop not far from the high tide mark, and she could not swim. Or the sea may have held less terror for her than having to face exposure and the sentence of the law. Nobody would ever know. The verdict at the inquest would be death by misadventure.

There were two other inquests. Penny had to give her evidence, and Miss Silver to give hers. Analysis of the tablet which Miss Remington had offered Penny showed it to be quite harmless by itself, but the coffee in which it was to have been dissolved already contained so much of the same drug as to make it highly improbable that she would ever have waked again. Mrs. Brand deposed to having a bottle of these tablets. It had been three-quarters full, and was now empty.

The verdict was a foregone conclusion. Nobody could leave the court with any doubt that the cove murders had been committed by Cassy Remington, and that she had met her death after attempting yet another.

Miss Silver bade a gracious farewell to Inspector Crisp. It was their third encounter, and there still existed considerable irritation on his side. There was nothing on hers but a cordial appreciation of his zeal and devotion to duty. This ceremony over, she returned to Cove House for tea, after which meal she intended to rejoin her niece Ethel at Farne. Ina Felton, who had also had to give evidence, went straight to her room, where Eliza brought her a tray. The party in the study consisting only of Marian Brand and Richard Cunningham, Miss Silver felt able, now that the inquests were over, to respond quite frankly when questioned as to what had made her suspect Cassy Remington.

Marian said, “She appeared to have no motive.”

Miss Silver coughed.

“For murdering Helen Adrian-no. But after talking to Mr. Cunningham I immediately began to wonder whether Helen Adrian was the person whom the murderer had intended to kill. There was someone else in the house who might have been aimed at-someone for whose death envy, malice, and stupidity might have supplied a motive. I began, in short, to think whether Helen Adrian had not been killed in mistake for the person whose scarf she had been wearing. That blue and yellow head-scarf-the colours were bright and conspicuous-everyone in both houses had seen her wearing it. If someone had looked out of a window on the beach side of the house on Thursday night and had seen the beam of an electric torch flicker over the colours of that scarf, would that person not have taken the wearer to be Marian Brand? It seemed to me the most likely thing in the world. When Mrs. Felton broke her silence and told us what she had seen that night I found that the torchlight had, in fact, picked up the scarf in the way I surmised-Mr. Felton having stumbled on the steps, with the result that the beam threw high. I had from the first considered that it might be Marian Brand whose death was intended. I now became convinced of it. I had to consider who had a motive and an opportunity. Only Penny’s and Miss Remington’s rooms look out towards the beach. Mrs. Brand or Mr. Felix might have seen the scarf from the bathroom window. Mrs. Brand is not a pleasant character. She appears to be as nearly without natural affection as anyone I have ever encountered. But she is heavy in mind and body, and indolent to the point of sloth. I could not bring myself to believe that she would without any immediate provocation leave the house at night and go down those steps to the beach with the intention of murdering someone. I felt tolerably sure that she would think of a number of excellent reasons for not doing anything that would involve so much effort.”

Richard Cunningham permitted himself an appreciative smile.

“How right you are! Do you always see through people just like that? It is rather shattering, you know.”

Miss Silver returned the smile.

“It is sometimes useful. Let me continue. Mr. Felix Brand might have killed Helen Adrian in a fit of passionate jealousy, or he might conceivably have killed Miss Marian because the money which would come to him at her death might induce Miss Adrian to marry him, but I could not in either case believe that he would have brought that bloodstained scarf up to the house and hung it on the peg from which it had been taken. If he knew that it was Helen Adrian whom he had killed, it was incredible. Everything pointed to the fact that he was overwhelmed with shock and horror and intent on suicide. He would not have any room in his thought for the scarf, or any care for its disposal. This would apply equally whether he thought he was attacking Marian Brand and discovered his mistake too late, or whether he knew that he was striking Helen Adrian down. With the body of the woman for whom he felt a jealous passion at his feet, I could not bring myself to believe that he would have troubled about the scarf. If, on the other hand, he remained under the impression that he had in fact killed Miss Marian, where was his motive for suicide? Or, supposing him to be overcome by remorse, what possible significance had the return of the scarf? I found myself unable to believe in Felix Brand as the murderer.”

Marian said in a voice not perfectly steady,

“You did not think it was someone on this side of the house?”

Miss Silver looked at her very kindly indeed.

“No, my dear. Murder is like a plant. It must have roots, and a certain soil in which to grow. I saw nothing in you or your sister, in Mr. Cunningham or Eliza Cotton, in which such a plant could propagate. People with the habit of considering others, of weighing their obligations, and of observing a temperate self-control, do not suddenly commit murder. In Mr. Felton’s case, he had, of course, no moral scruples where money was concerned, but I did not believe him capable of violent crime. He was of a type to shrink from bloodshed. He had no motive strong enough to make him murder Helen Adrian. She was prepared to pay him ten pounds down, and he would, I think, have believed that he would be able to extract further sums from her. As to any question of a mistake of identity, this would have been impossible, since he let Helen Adrian through from the other house and accompanied her to the terrace from which she fell.”

Marian was very pale. Richard Cunningham’s hand came out and covered hers. Miss Silver coughed with indulgence and resumed her exposition.

“Let us now return to the next-door house. Penny I did not consider at all. She is a good child. In theory she had a motive for wishing Helen Adrian dead, but in practice she was quite incapable of injuring her. That brought me to Miss Remington, whose window looked toward the beach, whose abnormally quick hearing made her the most likely of all the inmates to have heard the glass door in the study open, and whose restless and inquisitive nature might so readily prompt her to investigate. Looking from her window, she would see two people come out of the study and go down toward the beach, one of them a man, the other a woman. She would see what Mrs. Felton saw, the beam of a torch picking up the blue and yellow of that noticeable head-scarf when Mr. Felton stumbled on the steps. That scarf covered Helen Adrian’s fair hair. Miss Remington certainly believed that it was worn by its owner, Marian Brand. Her curiosity would be powerfully excited. I think that she remained at her window for some time, and then went into the garden to find out what was going on. She could have gone out through the kitchen, or by the glass door in the drawing-room. I do not think that she was aware of the fact that the door between the houses had been unlocked. From the garden she saw Mr. Felton come up the steps and go into the house. But where was his companion? Full of curiosity, she goes down towards the beach. On the lowest terrace she is aware of someone standing just above the steep drop to the shingle. We have no proof of this of course, but there is the evidence of a great many small things for which there is no other explanation. We do know that Mr. Felton had quarrelled with Miss Adrian and gone up to the house alone. She waited, perhaps because she did not wish to resume the argument at that time. The tide was nearly full. The place from which she fell is one where there is a good view of the sea. Dark water moving at night has an attraction for many people. I think we may suppose that she stood there for a little to watch it before going in. The night was fine and warm. The sound of the water was in her ears. It would be quite easy for Miss Remington to come up behind her and push her over the edge.”

Even after all that had happened Marian could still shudder at the picture this brought up. She said, “Horrible!” and felt the pressure of Richard’s hand upon her own.

Miss Silver inclined her head.

“We do not know at what moment Miss Remington realized that she had made a mistake, and that the person whom she had pushed over that steep drop was Helen Adrian and not Marian Brand. Miss Adrian may have cried out as she fell. I think she did so, because Miss Remington was at some pains to mention that she had heard a cry, and then to explain it away.”

Marian said,

“I think there was a cry-I think it woke me.”

“Just so. It must have startled Miss Remington very much. She may have recognized her mistake then, or later. I think myself it would have been later, when she went down to make sure that her victim was dead. Before she did so I believe she put on the raincoat which Miss Adrian had left upon the seat.”

Richard Cunningham said,

“How did she know it was there?”

Miss Silver coughed with a shade of reproof.

“You cannot doubt that she would have provided herself with a torch. Eliza informs me that she possessed one. She put on the raincoat to protect her dress, went down the steps, and completed the murder. She could not risk the chance of her victim’s survival. She may have been aware of some circumstance which might have betrayed her identity. She would put on the torch in order to ascertain the extent of the injuries, and it was then, I think, that she recognized Helen Adrian. Instead of feeling any remorse, she thinks only of safeguarding herself and transferring suspicion to Miss Marian. She removes the head-scarf, completes her dreadful work, and returns, leaving the raincoat with its smear of blood on the seat and bringing the scarf back to the house. She had passed close to the study window on the way down, and we may suppose her to have been aware that Mr. Felton had left it open. This, of course, was done in order to allow of Miss Adrian’s return. Since Miss Remington must have been very much on the alert when he went back into the house, her keen hearing would have informed her that the door had not been shut. She had only to go in, hang up the scarf, and then return to her own side of the house by whatever door she had left unlatched. It would not occur to her that she could possibly be suspected. Since she had no interest in Helen Adrian’s death, the quick, resentful brain which had on the spur of the moment caught at and used the raincoat and scarf to cast suspicion on Miss Marian was, I believe, already busy with further plans. It is all over now, and we need not conjecture as to their exact form, but that they were cunning and malicious, and that they would have been directed against Miss Marian, I do not doubt.”

“And then Felton cropped up!”

“As you say. He must have seen or heard something which enabled him to identify her. We do not know what it was. He may have been in the bathroom and looked out of the window and seen her either going or returning. His eyes would by then be tolerably well accustomed to the darkness, and without being able to see more than a moving shadow he could have made a fair guess at her identity, since she is some inches shorter than Penny and there could be no possible confusion between her and Mrs. Brand. It may not have been an absolute identification, but it would be a good enough guess, and if he took his evidence to the police, she would be in very great danger.”

Marian steadied her voice with an effort.

“How did she know that he was a danger? Did she hear what he said to Ina?”

“I think so. I have no doubt that he intended to blackmail her. But I think it improbable that he had had either the time or the opportunity to approach her, since he left immediately after Inspector Crisp had taken his statement on Friday, and had only returned on the Sunday morning. There may have been some approach of which we do not know, but I should doubt it. We know that she was in her bedroom on Sunday afternoon. The window of Mrs. Felton’s room is very near to hers, and both were open. I have no doubt she would do her best to overhear any conversation between Mr. and Mrs. Felton, and I have no doubt whatever she did hear him tell his wife that he knew who the murderer was. And that she afterwards heard him express his intention of going to his room to lie down and have a good sleep. After that she had only to allow a little time to go by and choose her opportunity. Penny and Felix Brand were out. Mrs. Brand could be relied on to sleep until tea-time. She had that side of the house to herself. On the other side, you two had gone out, Mrs. Felton was in her room, and Eliza would be in the kitchen, her bedroom, or the bathroom. The windows of all these rooms look out upon the beach. The window of Mr. Felton’s ground-floor room faces the other way. Miss Remington had only to stroll out to the gate and look up and down the road to feel perfectly secure that no one would see her climb in over that low sill. She had put on the dark blue cotton dress described by Penny, and had provided herself with a sharp knife from the kitchen. No moral scruples restrained her. She had plenty of time to clean the knife and put it back, wash out the navy cotton dress, and roll it down. We know now that she was only attempting to frighten her sister when she spoke of there being a bloodstain on the front of her dress. She need not have troubled. Mrs. Brand might suspect her-and I am quite sure she did-but she would never have opened her lips. She is without energy or principle, and in addition to an inclination towards the line of least resistance she was, I suspect, more than a little afraid of her sister.”

Richard Cunningham said,

“A horrible woman! Thank God she is taking herself off! A boardinghouse on the south coast-probably Brighton. She will change her name, establish her right to the best armchair, and sink heavily into coma. Penny and Felix will be well rid of her. They owe you something for that, as well as for all the rest.” Then, with a change of voice and manner, “Now just what put it into your head that Penny was in danger?”

She met his look with a thoughtful one.

“I really do not know. I feared there might be some further development. The bias against Felix Brand had been so marked. He would be so convenient a scapegoat for this second murder. But Penny gave him an alibi. I thought an attempt might be made to implicate her. It even occurred to me to wonder whether an attempt might not be made to stage a suicide-” She broke off and said very earnestly, “You must understand, Mr. Cunningham, that it was all very vague- a matter of impression and conjecture. But it was enough to make me feel that I could not acquiesce in those two young people being shut away from the rest of us with a malignant person who had already killed two people in a particularly cold-blooded and shocking manner. I felt that there should be a means of access, and it was with this in my mind that I asked Penny to unlock the door between the two houses. I really had no plan at that time, only a strong disposition to ensure that the means of access would be available. I knew that by leaning out of Mrs. Felton’s window I could keep some check on Miss Remington’s movements. When I had ascertained that she was not in her room I went and looked out of my own window and discovered that she was with her sister. As you know, my attention was immediately arrested by the words, ‘I shall say Felix did it.’ The window was open, and I could hear all that passed. Miss Remington proceeded to elaborate her statement about Felix Brand, and in doing so she gave herself away. When she said, speaking of Felix, ‘He saw the light on that blue and yellow handkerchief she was wearing over her head, and he followed her down to the terrace and pushed her over the edge after Cyril Felton had come in, and then of course Cyril guessed, and he killed him too,’ she was describing what had actually happened. Only it was not Felix Brand who had seen the light dazzle on that very noticeable head-scarf and followed Helen Adrian to the terrace, but she herself.”

Richard said, “There was something about blackmail, wasn’t there?”

Miss Silver coughed.

“Miss Remington’s exact words were, ‘And then, of course, Cyril guessed and tried to blackmail him and he killed him too.’ ”

“Then it does look as if Felton had actually tried to blackmail her.”

“It is impossible to say. You must remember that she was fabricating a case against Felix Brand. As I have already said, I think it is certain that she heard Cyril Felton tell his wife he knew who the murderer was. She had a quick, malicious brain. She was putting together a tissue of lies and making it sound extremely plausible. But when she mentioned the light shining on the head-scarf I suspected that she was describing something which she had seen herself. When, a little later, she said, ‘The police won’t take any notice of what Penny says-they won’t have any opportunity, I can promise you that!’ and, later on, ‘I don’t think we need bother about Penny,’ I became very much alarmed. No one who heard Miss Remington pronounce those words could have had any doubt as to their meaning. Cyril Felton was dead. Penny was now the inconvenient witness. But she need not be regarded-there was no need to bother about her. Mrs. Brand was being frightened into submission, and Penny would be silenced. I realized that the danger was immediate. As you now know, Miss Remington had prepared very carefully for this third murder. A fatal dose of Mrs. Brand’s sleeping-tablets had been dissolved in the coffee. Eliza tells me that Penny once choked on a tablet as a child and has been nervous about swallowing one ever since. If she took one, it would have to be dissolved. Miss Remington, of course, knew this, and had reserved a single harmless tablet to dissolve in Penny’s presence in order to account for the medicated taste. If Penny had drunk that coffee she would have lain down on her bed and never waked again. Miss Remington would have seen to it that the coffee-cup bore no other fingerprints than Penny’s. The final wickedness was the scrawled note in a most convincing imitation of Penny’s handwriting which was found between the pages of Miss Remington’s library book- ‘I can’t bear it anymore-Felix-’ If we had not come in time, that note would have been discovered by Penny’s side, and who would have doubted that she had taken her own life under the burden of a knowledge too heavy to be borne? I can never feel sufficiently grateful that my suspicions were aroused, and that we did come in time.”

Marian said, “Would she have drunk the coffee?”

Miss Silver coughed.

“It is impossible to say. She was in a dazed and shocked condition. She had been brought up in the habit of obedience. Miss Remington was exerting the utmost pressure of her will. It is indeed providential that we came when we did.”