BythePrickingofMyThumbs
ATommyandTuppenceMystery
Dedication
Thisbookisdedicatedtothemanyreadersinthisandothercountrieswhowritetomeasking:“WhathashappenedtoTommyandTuppence?Whataretheydoingnow?”Mybestwishestoyouall,andIhopeyouwillenjoymeetingTommyandTuppenceagain,yearsolder,butwithspiritunquenched!
Epigraph
BytheprickingofmythumbsSomethingwickedthiswaycomes.
—Macbeth
Contents
TitlePage
Dedication
Epigraph
Book1
SunnyRidge
1AuntAda
2WasityourPoorChild?
3AFuneral
4PictureofaHouse
5DisappearanceofanOldLady
6TuppenceontheTrail
Book2
TheHouseontheCanal
7TheFriendlyWitch
8SuttonChancellor
9AMorninginMarketBasing
Book3
Missing—AWife
10AConference—andAfter
11BondStreetandDr.Murray
12TommyMeetsanOldFriend
13AlbertonClues
Book4
HereisaChurchandhereistheSteepleOpentheDoorsandtherearethePeople
14ExerciseinThinking
15EveningattheVicarage
16TheMorningAfter
17Mrs.Lancaster
AbouttheAuthor
TheAgathaChristieCollection
RelatedProducts
Copyright
AboutthePublisher
BOOK1SUNNYRIDGE
One
AUNTADA
Mr.andMrs.Beresfordweresittingatthebreakfasttable.Theywereanordinarycouple.HundredsofelderlycouplesjustlikethemwerehavingbreakfastalloverEnglandatthatparticularmoment.Itwasanordinarysortofdaytoo,thekindofdaythatyougetfivedaysoutofseven.Itlookedasthoughitmightrainbutwasn’tquitesureofit.
Mr.Beresfordhadoncehadredhair.Thereweretracesoftheredstill,butmostofithadgonethatsandy-cum-greycolourthatred-headedpeoplesooftenarriveatinmiddlelife.Mrs.Beresfordhadoncehadblackhair,avigorouscurlingmopofit.Nowtheblackwasadulteratedwithstreaksofgreylaidon,apparentlyatrandom.Itmadearatherpleasanteffect.Mrs.Beresfordhadoncethoughtofdyeingherhair,butintheendshehaddecidedthatshelikedherselfbetterasnaturehadmadeher.Shehaddecidedinsteadtotryanewshadeoflipsticksoastocheerherselfup.
Anelderlycouplehavingbreakfasttogether.Apleasantcouple,butnothingremarkableaboutthem.Soanonlookerwouldhavesaid.Iftheonlookerhadbeenyoungheorshewouldhaveadded,“Ohyes,quitepleasant,butdeadlydull,ofcourse,likealloldpeople.”
However,Mr.andMrs.Beresfordhadnotyetarrivedatthetimeoflifewhentheythoughtofthemselvesasold.Andtheyhadnoideathattheyandmanyotherswereautomaticallypronounceddeadlydullsolelyonthataccount.Onlybytheyoungofcourse,butthen,theywouldhavethoughtindulgently,youngpeopleknewnothingaboutlife.Poordears,theywerealwaysworryingaboutexaminations,ortheirsexlife,orbuyingsomeextraordinaryclothes,ordoingextraordinarythingstotheirhairtomakethemmorenoticeable.Mr.andMrs.Beresfordfromtheirownpointofviewwerejustpasttheprimeoflife.Theylikedthemselvesandlikedeachotheranddaysucceededdayinaquietbutenjoyablefashion.
Therewere,ofcourse,moments,everyonehasmoments.Mr.Beresfordopenedaletter,glancedthroughitandlaiditdown,addingittothesmallpilebyhislefthand.Hepickedupthenextletterbutforboretoopenit.Insteadhestayedwithitinhishand.Hewasnotlookingattheletter,hewaslookingatthetoastrack.Hiswifeobservedhimforafewmomentsbeforesaying,
“What’sthematter,Tommy?”
“Matter?”saidTommyvaguely.“Matter?”
“That’swhatIsaid,”saidMrs.Beresford.
“Nothingisthematter,”saidMr.Beresford.“Whatshoulditbe?”
“You’vethoughtofsomething,”saidTuppenceaccusingly.
“Idon’tthinkIwasthinkingofanythingatall.”
“Ohyes,youwere.Hasanythinghappened?”
“No,ofcoursenot.Whatshouldhappen?”Headded,“Igottheplumber’sbill.”
“Oh,”saidTuppencewiththeairofoneenlightened.“Morethanyouexpected,Isuppose.”
“Naturally,”saidTommy,“italwaysis.”
“Ican’tthinkwhywedidn’ttrainasplumbers,”saidTuppence.“Ifyou’donlytrainedasaplumber,Icouldhavebeenaplumber’smateandwe’dberakinginmoneydaybyday.”
“Veryshortsightedofusnottoseetheseopportunities.”
“Wasthattheplumber’sbillyouwerelookingatjustnow?”
“Ohno,thatwasjustanAppeal.”
“Delinquentboys—Racialintegration?”
“No.JustanotherHomethey’reopeningforoldpeople.”
“Well,that’smoresensibleanyway,”saidTuppence,“butIdon’tseewhyyouhavetohavethatworriedlookaboutit.”
“Oh,Iwasn’tthinkingofthat.”
“Well,whatwereyouthinkingof?”
“Isupposeitputitintomymind,”saidMr.Beresford.
“What?”saidTuppence.“Youknowyou’lltellmeintheend.”
“Itreallywasn’tanythingimportant.Ijustthoughtthatperhaps—well,itwasAuntAda.”
“Oh,Isee,”saidTuppence,withinstantcomprehension.“Yes,”sheadded,softly,meditatively.“AuntAda.”
Theireyesmet.Itisregrettablytruethatinthesedaysthereisinnearlyeveryfamily,theproblemofwhatmightbecalledan“AuntAda.”Thenamesaredifferent—AuntAmelia,AuntSusan,AuntCathy,AuntJoan.Theyarevariedbygrandmothers,agedcousinsandevengreat-aunts.Buttheyexistandpresentaprobleminlifewhichhastobedealtwith.Arrangementshavetobemade.Suitableestablishmentsforlookingaftertheelderlyhavetobeinspectedandfullquestionsaskedaboutthem.Recommendationsaresoughtfromdoctors,fromfriends,whohaveAuntAdasoftheirownwhohadbeen“perfectlyhappyuntilshehaddied”at“TheLaurels,Bexhill,”or“HappyMeadowsatScarborough.”
ThedaysarepastwhenAuntElisabeth,AuntAdaandtherestofthemlivedonhappilyinthehomeswheretheyhadlivedformanyyearspreviously,lookedafterbydevotedifsometimessomewhattyrannicaloldservants.Bothsideswerethoroughlysatisfiedwiththearrangement.Orthereweretheinnumerablepoorrelations,indigentnieces,semi-idioticspinstercousins,allyearningforagoodhomewiththreegoodmealsadayandanicebedroom.Supplyanddemandcomplementedeachotherandallwaswell.Nowadays,thingsaredifferent.
FortheAuntAdasoftodayarrangementshavetobemadesuitable,notmerelytoanelderlyladywho,owingtoarthritisorotherrheumaticdifficulties,isliabletofalldownstairsifsheisleftaloneinahouse,orwhosuffersfromchronicbronchitis,orwhoquarrelswithherneighboursandinsultsthetradespeople.
Unfortunately,theAuntAdasarefarmoretroublethantheoppositeendoftheagescale.Childrencanbeprovidedwithfosterhomes,foistedoffonrelations,orsenttosuitableschoolswheretheystayfortheholidays,orarrangementscanbemadeforponytreksorcampsandonthewholeverylittleobjectionismadebythechildrentothearrangementssomadeforthem.TheAuntAdasareverydifferent.TuppenceBeresford’sownaunt—Great-auntPrimrose—hadbeenanotabletroublemaker.Impossibletosatisfyher.Nosoonerdidsheenteranestablishmentguaranteedtoprovideagoodhomeandallcomfortsforelderlyladiesthanafterwritingafewhighlycomplimentaryletterstoherniecepraisingthisparticularestablishment,thenextnewswouldbethatshehadindignantlywalkedoutofitwithoutnotice.
“Impossible.Icouldn’tstaythereanotherminute!”
WithinthespaceofayearAuntPrimrosehadbeeninandoutofelevensuchestablishments,finallywritingtosaythatshehadnowmetaverycharmingyoungman.“Reallyaverydevotedboy.Helosthismotheratayoungageandhebadlyneedslookingafter.Ihaverentedaflatandheiscomingtolivewithme.Thisarrangementwillsuitusbothperfectly.Wearenaturalaffinities.Youneedhavenomoreanxieties,dearPrudence.Myfutureissettled.IamseeingmylawyertomorrowasitisnecessarythatIshouldmakesomeprovisionforMervynifIshouldpredeceasehimwhichis,ofcourse,thenaturalcourseofevents,thoughIassureyouatthemomentIfeelinthepinkofhealth.”
Tuppencehadhurriednorth(theincidenthadtakenplaceinAberdeen).Butasithappened,thepolicehadarrivedtherefirstandhadremovedtheglamorousMervyn,forwhomtheyhadbeenseekingforsometime,onachargeofobtainingmoneyunderfalsepretences.AuntPrimrosehadbeenhighlyindignant,andhadcalleditpersecution—butafterattendingtheCourtproceedings(wheretwenty-fiveothercasesweretakenintoaccount)—hadbeenforcedtochangeherviewsofherprotégé.
“IthinkIoughttogoandseeAuntAda,youknow,Tuppence,”saidTommy.“It’sbeensometime.”
“Isupposeso,”saidTuppence,withoutenthusiasm.“Howlonghasitbeen?”
Tommyconsidered.“Itmustbenearlyayear,”hesaid.
“It’smorethanthat,”saidTuppence.“Ithinkit’soverayear.”
“Ohdear,”saidTommy,“thetimedoesgosofast,doesn’tit?Ican’tbelieveit’sbeenaslongasthat.Still,Ibelieveyou’reright,Tuppence.”Hecalculated.“It’sawfulthewayoneforgets,isn’tit?Ireallyfeelverybadlyaboutit.”
“Idon’tthinkyouneed,”saidTuppence.“Afterall,wesendherthingsandwewriteletters.”
“Ohyes,Iknow.You’reawfullygoodaboutthosesortofthings,Tuppence.Butallthesame,onedoesreadthingssometimesthatareveryupsetting.”
“You’rethinkingofthatdreadfulbookwegotfromthelibrary,”saidTuppence,“andhowawfulitwasforthepoorolddears.Howtheysuffered.”
“Isupposeitwastrue—takenfromlife.”
“Ohyes,”saidTuppence,“theremustbeplaceslikethat.Andtherearepeoplewhoareterriblyunhappy,whocan’thelpbeingunhappy.Butwhatelseisonetodo,Tommy?”
“Whatcananyonedoexceptbeascarefulaspossible.Beverycarefulwhatyouchoose,findoutallaboutitandmakesureshe’sgotanicedoctorlookingafterher.”
“NobodycouldbenicerthanDr.Murray,youmustadmitthat.”
“Yes,”saidTommy,theworriedlookrecedingfromhisface.“Murray’safirst-classchap.Kind,patient.Ifanythingwasgoingwronghe’dletusknow.”
“SoIdon’tthinkyouneedworryaboutit,”saidTuppence.“Howoldisshebynow?”
“Eighty-two,”saidTommy.“No—no.Ithinkit’seighty-three,”headded.“Itmustberatherawfulwhenyou’veoutlivedeverybody.”
“That’sonlywhatwefeel,”saidTuppence.“Theydon’tfeelit.”
“Youcan’treallytell.”
“Well,yourAuntAdadoesn’t.Don’tyourememberthegleewithwhichshetoldusthenumberofheroldfriendsthatshe’dalreadyoutlived?Shefinishedupbysaying‘andasforAmyMorgan,I’veheardshewon’tlastmorethananothersixmonths.ShealwaysusedtosayIwassodelicateandnowit’spracticallyacertaintythatIshalloutliveher.Outliveherbyagoodmanyyearstoo.’Triumphant,that’swhatshewasattheprospect.”
“Allthesame—”saidTommy.
“Iknow,”saidTuppence,“Iknow.Allthesameyoufeelit’syourdutyandsoyou’vegottogo.”
“Don’tyouthinkI’mright?”
“Unfortunately,”saidTuppence,“Idothinkyou’reright.Absolutelyright.AndI’llcometoo,”sheadded,withaslightnoteofheroisminhervoice.
“No,”saidTommy.“Whyshouldyou?She’snotyouraunt.No,I’llgo.”
“Notatall,”saidMrs.Beresford.“Iliketosuffertoo.We’llsuffertogether.Youwon’tenjoyitandIshan’tenjoyitandIdon’tthinkforonemomentthatAuntAdawillenjoyit.ButIquiteseeitisoneofthosethingsthathasgottobedone.”
“No,Idon’twantyoutogo.Afterall,thelasttime,rememberhowfrightfullyrudeshewastoyou?”
“Oh,Ididn’tmindthat,”saidTuppence.“It’sprobablytheonlybitofthevisitthatthepooroldgirlenjoyed.Idon’tgrudgeittoher,notforamoment.”
“You’vealwaysbeennicetoher,”saidTommy,“eventhoughyoudon’tlikeherverymuch.”
“NobodycouldlikeAuntAda,”saidTuppence.“IfyouaskmeIdon’tthinkanyoneeverhas.”
“Onecan’thelpfeelingsorryforpeoplewhentheygetold,”saidTommy.
“Ican,”saidTuppence.“Ihaven’tgotasniceanatureasyouhave.”
“Beingawomanyou’remoreruthless,”saidTommy.
“Isupposethatmightbeit.Afterall,womenhaven’treallygottimetobeanythingbutrealisticoverthings.ImeanI’mverysorryforpeopleifthey’reoldorsickoranything,ifthey’renicepeople.Butifthey’renotnicepeople,well,it’sdifferent,youmustadmit.Ifyou’reprettynastywhenyou’retwentyandjustasnastywhenyou’refortyandnastierstillwhenyou’resixty,andaperfectdevilbythetimeyou’reeighty—well,really,Idon’tseewhyoneshouldbeparticularlysorryforpeople,justbecausethey’reold.Youcan’tchangeyourselfreally.Iknowsomeabsoluteduckswhoareseventyandeighty.OldMrs.Beauchamp,andMaryCarrandthebaker’sgrandmother,dearoldMrs.Poplett,whousedtocomeinandcleanforus.TheywerealldearsandsweetandI’ddoanythingIcouldforthem.”
“Allright,allright,”saidTommy,“berealistic.Butifyoureallywanttobenobleandcomewithme—”
“Iwanttocomewithyou,”saidTuppence.“Afterall,ImarriedyouforbetterorforworseandAuntAdaisdecidedlytheworse.SoIshallgowithyouhandinhand.Andwe’lltakeherabunchofflowersandaboxofchocolateswithsoftcentresandperhapsamagazineortwo.YoumightwritetoMissWhat’s-her-nameandsaywe’recoming.”
“Onedaynextweek?IcouldmanageTuesday,”saidTommy,“ifthat’sallrightforyou.”
“Tuesdayitis,”saidTuppence.“What’sthenameofthewoman?Ican’tremember—thematronorthesuperintendentorwhoeversheis.BeginswithaP.”
“MissPackard.”
“That’sright.”
“Perhapsit’llbedifferentthistime,”saidTommy.
“Different?Inwhatway?”
“Oh,Idon’tknow.Somethinginterestingmighthappen.”
“Wemightbeinarailwayaccidentonthewaythere,”saidTuppence,brighteningupalittle.
“Whyonearthdoyouwanttobeinarailwayaccident?”
“WellIdon’treally,ofcourse.Itwasjust—”
“Justwhat?”
“Well,itwouldbeanadventureofsomekind,wouldn’tit?Perhapswecouldsavelivesordosomethinguseful.Usefulandatthesametimeexciting.”
“Whatahope!”saidMr.Beresford.
“Iknow,”agreedTuppence.“It’sjustthatthesesortofideascometoonesometimes.”
Two
WASITYOURPOORCHILD?
HowSunnyRidgehadcomebyitsnamewouldbedifficulttosay.Therewasnothingprominentlyridgelikeaboutit.Thegroundswereflat,whichwaseminentlymoresuitablefortheelderlyoccupants.Ithadanample,thoughratherundistinguishedgarden.ItwasafairlylargeVictorianmansionkeptinagoodstateofrepair.Thereweresomepleasantshadytrees,aVirginiacreeperrunningupthesideofthehouse,andtwomonkeypuzzlesgaveanexoticairtothescene.Therewereseveralbenchesinadvantageousplacestocatchthesun,oneortwogardenchairsandashelteredverandaonwhichtheoldladiescouldsitshelteredfromtheeastwinds.
TommyrangthefrontdoorbellandheandTuppenceweredulyadmittedbyaratherharassed-lookingyoungwomaninanylonoverall.Sheshowedthemintoasmallsittingroomsayingratherbreathlessly,“I’lltellMissPackard.She’sexpectingyouandshe’llbedowninaminute.Youwon’tmindwaitingjustalittle,willyou,butit’soldMrs.Carraway.She’sbeenandswallowedherthimbleagain,yousee.”
“Howonearthdidshedoathinglikethat?”askedTuppence,surprised.
“Doesitforfun,”explainedthehouseholdhelpbriefly.“Alwaysdoingit.”
ShedepartedandTuppencesatdownandsaidthoughtfully,“Idon’tthinkIshouldliketoswallowathimble.It’dbeawfullybobblyasitwentdown.Don’tyouthinkso?”
TheyhadnotverylongtowaithoweverbeforethedooropenedandMissPackardcamein,apologizingasshedidso.Shewasabig,sandy-hairedwomanofaboutfiftywiththeairofcalmcompetenceaboutherwhichTommyhadalwaysadmired.
“I’msorryifIhavekeptyouwaiting,Mr.Beresford,”shesaid.“Howdoyoudo,Mrs.Beresford,I’msogladyou’vecometoo.”
“Somebodyswallowedsomething,Ihear,”saidTommy.
“Oh,soMarlenetoldyouthat?Yes,itwasoldMrs.Carraway.She’salwaysswallowingthings.Verydifficult,youknow,becauseonecan’twatchthemallthetime.Ofcourseoneknowschildrendoit,butitseemsafunnythingtobeahobbyofanelderlywoman,doesn’tit?It’sgrownuponher,youknow.Shegetsworseeveryyear.Itdoesn’tseemtodoheranyharm,that’sthecheeriestthingaboutit.”
“Perhapsherfatherwasaswordswallower,”suggestedTuppence.
“Nowthat’saveryinterestingidea,Mrs.Beresford.Perhapsitwouldexplainthings.”Shewenton,“I’vetoldMissFanshawethatyouwerecoming,Mr.Beresford.Idon’tknowreallywhethershequitetookitin.Shedoesn’talways,youknow.”
“Howhasshebeenlately?”
“Well,she’sfailingratherrapidlynow,I’mafraid,”saidMissPackardinacomfortablevoice.“Oneneverreallyknowshowmuchshetakesinandhowmuchshedoesn’t.ItoldherlastnightandshesaidshewassureImustbemistakenbecauseitwastermtime.Sheseemedtothinkthatyouwerestillatschool.Pooroldthings,theygetverymuddledupsometimes,especiallyovertime.However,thismorningwhenIremindedheraboutyourvisit,shejustsaiditwasquiteimpossiblebecauseyouweredead.Ohwell,”MissPackardwentoncheerfully,“Iexpectshe’llrecognizeyouwhensheseesyou.”
“Howissheinhealth?Muchthesame?”
“Well,perhapsaswellascanbeexpected.Frankly,youknow,Idon’tthinkshe’llbewithusverymuchlonger.Shedoesn’tsufferinanywaybutherheartcondition’snobetterthanitwas.Infact,it’sratherworse.SoIthinkI’dlikeyoutoknowthatit’sjustaswelltobeprepared,sothatifshedidgosuddenlyitwouldn’tbeanyshocktoyou.”
“Webroughthersomeflowers,”saidTuppence.
“Andaboxofchocolates,”saidTommy
“Oh,that’sverykindofyouI’msure.She’llbeverypleased.Wouldyouliketocomeupnow?”
TommyandTuppenceroseandfollowedMissPackardfromtheroom.Sheledthemupthebroadstaircase.Astheypassedoneoftheroomsinthepassageupstairs,itopenedsuddenlyandalittlewomanaboutfivefoothightrottedout,callinginaloudshrillvoice,“Iwantmycocoa.Iwantmycocoa.Where’sNurseJane?Iwantmycocoa.”
Awomaninanurse’suniformpoppedoutofthenextdoorandsaid,“There,there,dear,it’sallright.You’vehadyourcocoa.Youhadittwentyminutesago.”
“NoIdidn’t,Nurse.It’snottrue.Ihaven’thadmycocoa.I’mthirsty.”
“Well,youshallhaveanothercupifyoulike.”
“Ican’thaveanotherwhenIhaven’thadone.”
TheypassedonandMissPackard,aftergivingabriefraponadoorattheendofthepassage,openeditandpassedin.
“Hereyouare,MissFanshawe,”shesaidbrightly.“Here’syournephewcometoseeyou.Isn’tthatnice?”
Inabednearthewindowanelderlyladysatupabruptlyonherraisedpillows.Shehadiron-greyhair,athinwrinkledfacewithalarge,high-bridgednoseandageneralairofdisapprobation.Tommyadvanced.
“Hullo,AuntAda,”hesaid.“Howareyou?”
AuntAdapaidnoattentiontohim,butaddressedMissPackardangrily.
“Idon’tknowwhatyoumeanbyshowinggentlemenintoalady’sbedroom,”shesaid.“Wouldn’thavebeenthoughtproperatallinmyyoungdays!Tellingmehe’smynephewindeed!Whoishe?Aplumberortheelectrician?”
“Now,now,that’snotverynice,”saidMissPackardmildly.
“I’myournephew,ThomasBeresford,”saidTommy.Headvancedtheboxofchocolates.“I’vebroughtyouaboxofchocolates.”
“Youcan’tgetroundmethatway,”saidAuntAda.“Iknowyourkind.Sayanything,youwill.Who’sthiswoman?”SheeyedMrs.Beresfordwithanairofdistaste.
“I’mPrudence,”saidMrs.Beresford.“Yourniece,Prudence.”
“Whataridiculousname,”saidAuntAda.“Soundslikeaparlourmaid.MyGreat-uncleMathewhadaparlourmaidcalledComfortandthehousemaidwascalledRejoice-in-the-Lord.Methodistshewas.ButmyGreat-auntFannysoonputastoptothat.ToldhershewasgoingtobecalledRebeccaaslongasshewasinherhouse.”
“Ibroughtyouafewroses,”saidTuppence.
“Idon’tcareforflowersinasickroom.Useupalltheoxygen.”
“I’llputtheminavaseforyou,”saidMissPackard.
“Youwon’tdoanythingofthekind.YououghttohavelearntbynowthatIknowmyownmind.”
“Youseeminfineform,AuntAda,”saidMr.Beresford.“Fightingfit,Ishouldsay.”
“Icantakeyourmeasureallright.Whatd’youmeanbysayingthatyou’remynephew?Whatdidyousayyournamewas?Thomas?”
“Yes.ThomasorTommy.”
“Neverheardofyou,”saidAuntAda.“IonlyhadonenephewandhewascalledWilliam.Killedinthelastwar.Goodthing,too.He’dhavegonetothebadifhe’dlived.I’mtired,”saidAuntAda,leaningbackonherpillowsandturningherheadtowardsMissPackard.“Take’emaway.Youshouldn’tletstrangersintoseeme.”
“Ithoughtanicelittlevisitmightcheeryouup,”saidMissPackardunperturbed.
AuntAdautteredadeepbasssoundofribaldmirth.
“Allright,”saidTuppencecheerfully.“We’llgoawayagain.I’llleavetheroses.Youmightchangeyourmindaboutthem.Comeon,Tommy,”saidTuppence.Sheturnedtowardsthedoor.
“Well,goodbye,AuntAda.I’msorryyoudon’trememberme.”
AuntAdawassilentuntilTuppencehadgoneoutofthedoorwithMissPackardandTommyfollowedher.
“Comeback,you,saidAuntAda,raisinghervoice.“Iknowyouperfectly.You’reThomas.Red-hairedyouusedtobe.Carrots,that’sthecolouryourhairwas.Comeback.I’lltalktoyou.Idon’twantthewoman.Nogoodherpretendingshe’syourwife.Iknowbetter.Shouldn’tbringthattypeofwomaninhere.Comeandsitdownhereinthischairandtellmeaboutyourdearmother.Yougoaway,”addedAuntAdaasakindofpostscript,wavingherhandtowardsTuppencewhowashesitatinginthedoorway.
Tuppenceretiredimmediately.
“Quiteinoneofhermoodstoday,”saidMissPackard,unruffled,astheywentdownthestairs.“Sometimes,youknow,”sheadded,“shecanbequitepleasant.Youwouldhardlybelieveit.”
TommysatdowninthechairindicatedtohimbyAuntAdaandremarkedmildlythathecouldn’ttellhermuchabouthismotherasshehadbeendeadnowfornearlyfortyyears.AuntAdawasunperturbedbythisstatement.
“Fancy,”shesaid,“isitaslongasthat?Well,timedoespassquickly.”Shelookedhimoverinaconsideringmanner.“Whydon’tyougetmarried?”shesaid.“Getsomenicecapablewomantolookafteryou.You’regettingon,youknow.Saveyoutakingupwithalltheseloosewomenandbringingthemroundandspeakingasthoughtheywereyourwife.”
“Icansee,”saidTommy,“thatIshallhavetogetTuppencetobringhermarriagelinesalongnexttimewecometoseeyou.”
“Madeanhonestwomanofher,haveyou?”saidAuntAda.
“We’vebeenmarriedoverthirtyyears,”saidTommy,“andwe’vegotasonandadaughter,andthey’rebothmarriedtoo.”
“Thetroubleis,”saidAuntAda,shiftinghergroundwithdexterity,“thatnobodytellsmeanything.Ifyou’dkeptmeproperlyuptodate—”
Tommydidnotarguethepoint.Tuppencehadoncelaiduponhimaseriousinjunction.“Ifanybodyovertheageofsixty-fivefindsfaultwithyou,”shesaid,“neverargue.Nevertrytosayyou’reright.Apologizeatonceandsayitwasallyourfaultandyou’reverysorryandyou’llneverdoitagain.”
ItoccurredtoTommyatthismomentwithsomeforcethatthatwouldcertainlybethelinetotakewithAuntAda,andindeedalwayshadbeen.
“I’mverysorry,AuntAda,”hesaid.“I’mafraid,youknow,onedoestendtogetforgetfulastimegoeson.It’snoteveryone,”hecontinuedunblushingly,“whohasyourwonderfulmemoryforthepast.”
AuntAdasmirked.Therewasnootherwordforit.“Youhavesomethingthere,”shesaid.“I’msorryifIreceivedyouratherroughly,butIdon’tcareforbeingimposedupon.Youneverknowinthisplace.Theyletinanyonetoseeyou.Anyoneatall.IfIacceptedeveryoneforwhattheysaidtheywere,theymightbeintendingtorobandmurdermeinmybed.”
“Oh,Idon’tthinkthat’sverylikely,”saidTommy.
“Youneverknow,”saidAuntAda.“Thethingsyoureadinthepaper.Andthethingspeoplecomeandtellyou.NotthatIbelieveeverythingI’mtold.ButIkeepasharplookout.Wouldyoubelieveit,theybroughtastrangemanintheotherday—neverseenhimbefore.CalledhimselfDr.Williams.SaidDr.Murraywasawayonhisholidayandthiswashisnewpartner.Newpartner!HowwasItoknowhewashisnewpartner?Hejustsaidhewas,that’sall.”
“Washehisnewpartner?”
“Well,asamatteroffact,”saidAuntAda,slightlyannoyedatlosingground,“heactuallywas.Butnobodycouldhaveknownitforsure.Therehewas,droveupinacar,hadthatlittlekindofblackboxwithhim,whichdoctorscarrytodobloodpressure—andallthatsortofthing.It’slikethemagicboxtheyallusedtotalkaboutsomuch.Whowasit,JoannaSouthcott’s?”
“No,”saidTommy.“Ithinkthatwasratherdifferent.Aprophecyofsomekind.”
“Oh,Isee.Well,mypointisanyonecouldcomeintoaplacelikethisandsayhewasadoctor,andimmediatelyallthenurseswouldsmirkandgiggleandsayyes,Doctor,ofcourse,Doctor,andmoreorlessstandtoattention,sillygirls!Andifthepatientsworeshedidn’tknowtheman,they’donlysayshewasforgetfulandforgotpeople.Ineverforgetaface,”saidAuntAdafirmly.“Ineverhave.HowisyourAuntCaroline?Ihaven’theardfromherforsometime.Haveyouseenanythingofher?”
Tommysaid,ratherapologetically,thathisAuntCarolinehadbeendeadforfifteenyears.AuntAdadidnottakethisdemisewithanysignsofsorrow.AuntCarolinehadafterallnotbeenhersister,butmerelyherfirstcousin.
“Everyoneseemstobedying,”shesaid,withacertainrelish.“Nostamina.That’swhat’sthematterwiththem.Weakheart,coronarythrombosis,highbloodpressure,chronicbronchitis,rheumatoidarthritis—alltherestofit.Feeblefolk,allofthem.That’showthedoctorsmaketheirliving.Givingthemboxesandboxesandbottlesandbottlesoftablets.Yellowtablets,pinktablets,greentablets,evenblacktablets,Ishouldn’tbesurprised.Ugh!Brimstoneandtreacletheyusedtouseinmygrandmother’sday.Ibetthatwasasgoodasanything.Withthechoiceofgettingwellorhavingbrimstoneandtreacletodrink,youchosegettingwelleverytime.”Shenoddedherheadinasatisfiedmanner.“Can’treallytrustdoctors,canyou?Notwhenit’saprofessionalmatter—somenewfad—I’mtoldthere’salotofpoisoninggoingonhere.Togetheartsforthesurgeons,soI’mtold.Don’tthinkit’strue,myself.MissPackard’snotthesortofwomanwhowouldstandforthat.”
DownstairsMissPackard,hermannerslightlyapologetic,indicatedaroomleadingoffthehall.
“I’msosorryaboutthis,Mrs.Beresford,butIexpectyouknowhowitiswithelderlypeople.Theytakefanciesordislikesandpersistinthem.”
“Itmustbeverydifficultrunningaplaceofthiskind,”saidTuppence.
“Oh,notreally,”saidMissPackard.“Iquiteenjoyit,youknow.Andreally,I’mquitefondofthemall.Onegetsfondofpeopleonehastolookafter,youknow.Imean,theyhavetheirlittlewaysandtheirfidgets,butthey’requiteeasytomanage,ifyouknowhow.”
TuppencethoughttoherselfthatMissPackardwasoneofthosepeoplewhowouldknowhow.
“They’relikechildren,really,”saidMissPackardindulgently.“Onlychildrenarefarmorelogicalwhichmakesitdifficultsometimeswiththem.Butthesepeopleareillogical,theywanttobereassuredbyyourtellingthemwhattheywanttobelieve.Thenthey’requitehappyagainforabit.I’vegotaverynicestaffhere.Peoplewithpatience,youknow,andgoodtemper,andnottoobrainy,becauseifyouhavepeoplewhoarebrainytheyareboundtobeveryimpatient.Yes,MissDonovan,whatisit?”Sheturnedherheadasayoungwomanwithpince-nezcamerunningdownthestairs.
“It’sMrs.Lockettagain,MissPackard.Shesaysshe’sdyingandshewantsthedoctorcalledatonce.”
“Oh,”saidMissPackard,unimpressed,“what’sshedyingfromthistime?”
“Shesaystherewasmushroominthestewyesterdayandthattheremusthavebeenfungiinitandthatshe’spoisoned.”
“That’sanewone,”saidMissPackard.“I’dbettercomeupandtalktoher.Sosorrytoleaveyou,Mrs.Beresford.You’llfindmagazinesandpapersinthatroom.”
“Oh,I’llbequiteallright,”saidTuppence.
Shewentintotheroomthathadbeenindicatedtoher.Itwasapleasantroomoverlookingthegardenwithfrenchwindowsthatopenedonit.Therewereeasychairs,bowlsofflowersonthetables.Onewallhadabookshelfcontainingamixtureofmodernnovelsandtravelbooks,andalsowhatmightbedescribedasoldfavourites,whichpossiblymanyoftheinmatesmightbegladtomeetagain.Thereweremagazinesonatable.
Atthemomenttherewasonlyoneoccupantintheroom.Anoldladywithwhitehaircombedbackoffherfacewhowassittinginachair,holdingaglassofmilkinherhand,andlookingatit.Shehadaprettypinkandwhiteface,andshesmiledatTuppenceinafriendlymanner.
“Goodmorning,”shesaid.“Areyoucomingtolivehereorareyouvisiting?”
“I’mvisiting,”saidTuppence.“Ihaveanaunthere.Myhusband’swithhernow.Wethoughtperhapstwopeopleatoncewasrathertoomuch.”
“Thatwasverythoughtfulofyou,”saidtheoldlady.Shetookasipofmilkappreciatively.“Iwonder—no,Ithinkit’squiteallright.Wouldn’tyoulikesomething?Someteaorsomecoffeeperhaps?Letmeringthebell.They’reveryobliginghere.”
“Nothankyou,”saidTuppence,“really.”
“Oraglassofmilkperhaps.It’snotpoisonedtoday.”
“No,no,noteventhat.Weshan’tbestoppingverymuchlonger.”
“Well,ifyou’requitesure—butitwouldn’tbeanytrouble,youknow.Nobodyeverthinksanythingisanytroublehere.Unless,Imean,youaskforsomethingquiteimpossible.”
“Idaresaytheauntwe’revisitingsometimesasksforquiteimpossiblethings,”saidTuppence.“She’saMissFanshawe,”sheadded.
“Oh,MissFanshawe,”saidtheoldlady.“Ohyes.”
SomethingseemedtoberestrainingherbutTuppencesaidcheerfully,“She’sratheratartar,Ishouldimagine.Shealwayshasbeen.”
“Oh,yesindeedsheis.Iusedtohaveanauntmyself,youknow,whowasverylikethat,especiallyasshegrewolder.Butwe’reallquitefondofMissFanshawe.Shecanbevery,veryamusingifshelikes.Aboutpeople,youknow.”
“Yes,Idaresayshecouldbe,”saidTuppence.Shereflectedamomentortwo,consideringAuntAdainthisnewlight
“Veryacid,”saidtheoldlady.“MynameisLancaster,bytheway,Mrs.Lancaster.”
“Myname’sBeresford,”saidTuppence
“I’mafraid,youknow,onedoesenjoyabitofmalicenowandthen.Herdescriptionsofsomeoftheotherguestshere,andthethingsshesaysaboutthem.Well,youknow,oneoughtn’t,ofcourse,tofinditfunnybutonedoes.”
“Haveyoubeenlivingherelong?”
“Agoodwhilenow.Yes,letmesee,sevenyears—eightyears.Yes,yesitmustbemorethaneightyears.”Shesighed.“Onelosestouchwiththings.Andpeopletoo.AnyrelationsIhaveleftliveabroad.”
“Thatmustberathersad.”
“No,notreally.Ididn’tcareforthemverymuch.Indeed,Ididn’tevenknownthemwell.Ihadabadillness—averybadillness—andIwasaloneintheworld,sotheythoughtitwasbetterformetoliveinaplacelikethis.IthinkI’mveryluckytohavecomehere.Theyaresokindandthoughtful.Andthegardensarereallybeautiful.IknowmyselfthatIshouldn’tliketobelivingonmyownbecauseIdogetveryconfusedsometimes,youknow.Veryconfused.”Shetappedherforehead.“Igetconfusedhere.Imixthingsup.Idon’talwaysrememberproperlythethingsthathavehappened.”
“I’msorry,”saidTuppence.“Isupposeonealwayshastohavesomething,doesn’tone?”
“Someillnessesareverypainful.Wehavetwopoorwomenlivingherewithverybadrheumatoidarthritis.Theysufferterribly.SoIthinkperhapsitdoesn’tmattersomuchifonegets,well,justalittleconfusedaboutwhathappenedandwhere,andwhoitwas,andallthatsortofthing,youknow.Atanyrateit’snotpainfulphysically.”
“No.Ithinkperhapsyou’requiteright,”saidTuppence.
Thedooropenedandagirlinawhiteoverallcameinwithalittletraywithacoffeepotonitandaplatewithtwobiscuits,whichshesetdownatTuppence’sside.
“MissPackardthoughtyoumightcareforacupofcoffee,”shesaid.
“Oh.Thankyou,”saidTuppence.
ThegirlwentoutagainandMrs.Lancastersaid,
“There,yousee.Verythoughtful,aren’tthey?”
“Yesindeed.”
Tuppencepouredouthercoffeeandbegantodrinkit.Thetwowomensatinsilenceforsometime.Tuppenceofferedtheplateofbiscuitsbuttheoldladyshookherhead.
“Nothankyou,dear.Ijustlikemymilkplain.”
Sheputdowntheemptyglassandleanedbackinherchair,hereyeshalfclosed.Tuppencethoughtthatperhapsthiswasthemomentinthemorningwhenshetookalittlenap,sosheremainedsilent.Suddenlyhowever,Mrs.Lancasterseemedtojerkherselfawakeagain.Hereyesopened,shelookedatTuppenceandsaid,
“Iseeyou’relookingatthefireplace.”
“Oh.WasI?”saidTuppence,slightlystartled.
“Yes.Iwondered—”sheleantforwardandloweredhervoice.“—Excuseme,wasityourpoorchild?”
Tuppenceslightlytakenaback,hesitated.
“I—no,Idon’tthinkso,”shesaid.
“Iwondered.Ithoughtperhapsyou’dcomeforthatreason.Someoneoughttocomesometime.Perhapstheywill.Andlookingatthefireplace,thewayyoudid.That’swhereitis,youknow.Behindthefireplace.”
“Oh,”saidTuppence.“Oh.Isit?”
“Alwaysthesametime,”saidMrs.Lancaster,inalowvoice.“Alwaysthesametimeofday.”Shelookedupattheclockonthemantelpiece.Tuppencelookedupalso.“Tenpasteleven,”saidtheoldlady.“Tenpasteleven.Yes,it’salwaysthesametimeeverymorning.”
Shesighed.“Peopledidn’tunderstand—ItoldthemwhatIknew—buttheywouldn’tbelieveme!”
TuppencewasrelievedthatatthatmomentthedooropenedandTommycamein.Tuppencerosetoherfeet.
“HereIam.I’mready.”Shewenttowardsthedoorturningherheadtosay,“Goodbye,Mrs.Lancaster.”
“Howdidyougeton?”sheaskedTommy,astheyemergedintothehall.
“Afteryouleft,”saidTommy,“likeahouseonfire.”
“Iseemtohavehadabadeffectonher,don’tI?”saidTuppence.“Rathercheering,inaway.”
“Whycheering?”
“Well,atmyage,”saidTuppence,“andwhatwithmyneatandrespectableandslightlyboringappearance,it’snicetothinkthatyoumightbetakenforadepravedwomanoffatalsexualcharm.”
“Idiot,”saidTommy,pinchingherarmaffectionately.“Whowereyouhobnobbingwith?Shelookedaverynicefluffyoldlady.”
“Shewasverynice,”saidTuppence.“Adearoldthing,Ithink.Butunfortunatelybats.”
“Bats?”
“Yes.Seemedtothinktherewasadeadchildbehindthefireplaceorsomethingofthekind.Sheaskedmeifitwasmypoorchild.”
“Ratherunnerving,”saidTommy.“Isupposetheremustbesomepeoplewhoareslightlybattyhere,aswellasnormalelderlyrelativeswithnothingbutagetotroublethem.Still,shelookednice.”
“Oh,shewasnice,”saidTuppence.“Niceandverysweet,Ithink.Iwonderwhatexactlyherfanciesareandwhy.”
MissPackardappearedagainsuddenly.
“Goodbye,Mrs.Beresford.Ihopetheybroughtyousomecoffee?”
“Ohyes,theydid,thankyou.”
“Well,it’sbeenverykindofyoutocome,I’msure,”saidMissPackard.TurningtoTommy,shesaid,“AndIknowMissFanshawehasenjoyedyourvisitverymuch.I’msorryshewasrudetoyourwife.”
“Ithinkthatgaveheralotofpleasuretoo,”saidTuppence.
“Yes,you’requiteright.Shedoeslikebeingrudetopeople.She’sunfortunatelyrathergoodatit.”
“Andsoshepractisestheartasoftenasshecan,”saidTommy.
“You’reveryunderstanding,bothofyou,”saidMissPackard.
“TheoldladyIwastalkingto,”saidTuppence.“Mrs.Lancaster,Ithinkshesaidhernamewas?”
“Ohyes,Mrs.Lancaster.We’reallveryfondofher.”
“She’s—isshealittlepeculiar?”
“Well,shehasfancies,”saidMissPackardindulgently.“Wehaveseveralpeopleherewhohavefancies.Quiteharmlessones.But—well,theretheyare.Thingsthattheybelievehavehappenedtothem.Ortootherpeople.Wetrynottotakeanynotice,nottoencouragethem.Justplayitdown.Ithinkreallyit’sjustanexerciseinimagination,asortofphantasytheyliketolivein.Somethingexcitingorsomethingsadandtragic.Itdoesn’tmatterwhich.Butnopersecutionmania,thankgoodness.Thatwouldneverdo.”
“Well,that’sover,”saidTommywithasigh,ashegotintothecar.“Weshan’tneedtocomeagainforatleastsixmonths.”
Buttheydidn’tneedtogoandseeherinsixmonths,forthreeweekslaterAuntAdadiedinhersleep.
Three
AFUNERAL
“Funeralsarerathersad,aren’tthey?”saidTuppence.
TheyhadjustreturnedfromattendingAuntAda’sfuneral,whichhadentailedalongandtroublesomerailwayjourneysincetheburialhadtakenplaceatthecountryvillageinLincolnshirewheremostofAuntAda’sfamilyandforebearshadbeenburied.
“Whatdoyouexpectafuneraltobe?”saidTommyreasonably.“Asceneofmadgaiety?”
“Well,itcouldbeinsomeplaces,”saidTuppence.“ImeantheIrishenjoyawake,don’tthey?Theyhavealotofkeeningandwailingfirstandthenplentyofdrinkandasortofmadwhoopee.Drink?”sheadded,withalooktowardsthesideboard.
Tommywentovertoitanddulybroughtbackwhatheconsideredappropriate.InthiscaseaWhiteLady.
“Ah,that’smorelikeit,”saidTuppence.
Shetookoffherblackhatandthrewitacrosstheroomandslippedoffherlongblackcoat.
“Ihatemourning,”shesaid.“Italwayssmellsofmothballsbecauseit’sbeenlaidupsomewhere.”
“Youdon’tneedtogoonwearingmourning.It’sonlytogotothefuneralin,”saidTommy.
“Ohno,Iknowthat.InaminuteortwoI’mgoingtogoupandputonascarletjerseyjusttocheerthingsup.YoucanmakemeanotherWhiteLady.”
“Really,Tuppence,Ihadnoideathatfuneralswouldbringoutthispartyfeeling.”
“Isaidfuneralsweresad,”saidTuppencewhenshereappearedamomentortwolater,wearingabrilliantcherry-reddresswitharubyanddiamondlizardpinnedtotheshoulderofit,“becauseit’sfuneralslikeAuntAda’sthataresad.Imeanelderlypeopleandnotmanyflowers.Notalotofpeoplesobbingandsniffinground.Someoneoldandlonelywhowon’tbemissedmuch.”
“Ishouldhavethoughtitwouldbemucheasierforyoutostandthatthanitwouldifitweremyfuneral,forinstance.”
“That’swhereyou’reentirelywrong,”saidTuppence.“Idon’tparticularlywanttothinkofyourfuneralbecauseI’dmuchprefertodiebeforeyoudo.ButImean,ifIweregoingtoyourfuneral,atanyrateitwouldbeanorgyofgrief.Ishouldtakealotofhandkerchiefs.”
“Withblackborders?”
“Well,Ihadn’tthoughtofblackbordersbutit’saniceidea.Andbesides,theBurialserviceisratherlovely.Makesyoufeeluplifted.Realgriefisreal.Itmakesyoufeelawfulbutitdoessomethingtoyou.Imean,itworksitoutlikeperspiration.”
“Really,Tuppence,Ifindyourremarksaboutmydeceaseandtheeffectitwillhaveuponyouinexceedinglybadtaste.Idon’tlikeit.Let’sforgetaboutfunerals.”
“Iagree.Let’sforget.”
“Thepooroldbean’sgone,”saidTommy,“andshewentpeacefullyandwithoutsuffering.So,let’sleaveitatthat.I’dbetterclearupallthese,Isuppose.”
Hewentovertothewritingtableandruffledthroughsomepapers.
“NowwheredidIputMr.Rockbury’sletter?”
“Who’sMr.Rockbury?Oh,youmeanthelawyerwhowrotetoyou.”
“Yes.Aboutwindingupheraffairs.Iseemtobetheonlyoneofthefamilyleftbynow.”
“Pityshehadn’tgotafortunetoleaveyou,”saidTuppence.
“Ifshehadhadafortuneshe’dhaveleftittothatCats’Home,”saidTommy.“Thelegacythatshe’slefttotheminherwillwillprettywelleatupallthesparecash.Therewon’tbemuchlefttocometome.NotthatIneeditorwantitanyway.”
“Wasshesofondofcats?”
“Idon’tknow.Isupposeso.Ineverheardhermentionthem.Ibelieve,”saidTommythoughtfully,“sheusedtogetratheralotoffunoutofsayingtooldfriendsofherswhentheycametoseeher‘I’veleftyoualittlesomethinginmywill,dear’or‘Thisbroochthatyou’resofondofI’veleftyouinmywill.’Shedidn’tactuallyleaveanythingtoanyoneexcepttheCats’Home.”
“Ibetshegotratherakickoutofthat,”saidTuppence.“Icanjustseehersayingallthethingsyoutoldmetoalotofheroldfriends—orso-calledoldfriendsbecauseIdon’tsupposetheywerepeopleshereallylikedatall.Shejustenjoyedleadingthemupthegardenpath.Imustsayshewasanolddevil,wasn’tshe,Tommy?Only,inafunnysortofwayonelikesherforbeinganolddevil.It’ssomethingtobeabletogetsomefunoutoflifewhenyou’reoldandstuckawayinaHome.ShallwehavetogotoSunnyRidge?”
“Where’stheotherletter,theonefromMissPackard?Ohyes,hereitis.IputitwithRockbury’s.Yes,shesaystherearecertainthingsthere,Igather,whichapparentlyarenowmyproperty.Shetooksomefurniturewithher,youknow,whenshewenttolivethere.Andofcoursethereareherpersonaleffects.Clothesandthingslikethat.Isupposesomebodywillhavetogothroughthem.Andlettersandthings.I’mherexecutor,soIsupposeit’suptome.Idon’tsupposethere’sanythingwewantreally,isthere?Exceptthere’sasmalldesktherethatIalwaysliked.BelongedtooldUncleWilliam,Ibelieve.”
“Well,youmighttakethatasamemento,”saidTuppence.“Otherwise,Isuppose,wejustsendthethingstobeauctioned.”
“Soyoudon’treallyneedtogothereatall,”saidTommy.
“Oh,IthinkI’dliketogothere,”saidTuppence.
“You’dliketo?Why?Won’titberatheraboretoyou?”
“What,lookingthroughherthings?No,Idon’tthinkso.IthinkI’vegotacertainamountofcuriosity.OldlettersandantiquejewelleryarealwaysinterestingandIthinkoneoughttolookatthemoneself,notjustsendthemtoauctionorletstrangersgothroughthem.No,we’llgoandlookthroughthethingsandseeifthere’sanythingwewouldliketokeepandotherwisesettleup.”
“Whydoyoureallywanttogo?You’vegotsomeotherreason,haven’tyou?”
“Ohdear,”saidTuppence,“itisawfulbeingmarriedtosomeonewhoknowstoomuchaboutone.”
“Soyouhavegotanotherreason?”
“Notarealone.”
“Comeon,Tuppence.You’renotreallysofondofturningoverpeople’sbelongings.”
“That,Ithink,ismyduty,”saidTuppencefirmly.“No,theonlyotherreasonis—”
“Comeon.Coughitup.”
“I’dratherliketoseethat—thatotheroldpussyagain.”
“What,theonewhothoughttherewasadeadchildbehindthefireplace?”
“Yes,”saidTuppence.“I’dliketotalktoheragain.I’dliketoknowwhatwasinhermindwhenshesaidallthosethings.Wasitsomethingsherememberedorwasitsomethingthatshe’djustimagined?ThemoreIthinkaboutitthemoreextraordinaryitseems.Isitasortofstorythatshewrotetoherselfinhermindoristhere—wasthereoncesomethingrealthathappenedaboutafireplaceoraboutadeadchild.Whatmadeherthinkthatthedeadchildmighthavebeenmydeadchild?DoIlookasthoughIhadadeadchild?”
“Idon’tknowhowyouexpectanyonetolookwhohasadeadchild,”saidTommy.“Ishouldn’thavethoughtso.Anyway,Tuppence,itisourdutytogoandyoucanenjoyyourselfinyourmacabrewayontheside.Sothat’ssettled.We’llwritetoMissPackardandfixaday.”
Four
PICTUREOFAHOUSE
Tuppencedrewadeepbreath.
“It’sjustthesame,”shesaid.
SheandTommywerestandingonthefrontdoorstepofSunnyRidge.
“Whyshouldn’titbe?”askedTommy.
“Idon’tknow.It’sjustafeelingIhave—somethingtodowithtime.Timegoesatadifferentpaceindifferentplaces.Someplacesyoucomebackto,andyoufeelthattimehasbeenbustlingalongataterrificrateandthatallsortsofthingswillhavehappened—andchanged.Buthere—Tommy—doyourememberOstend?”
“Ostend?Wewentthereonourhoneymoon.OfcourseIremember.”
“Anddoyourememberthesignwrittenup?TRAMSTILLSTAND—Itmadeuslaugh.Itseemedsoridiculous.”
“IthinkitwasKnock—notOstend.”
“Nevermind—yourememberit.Well,thisislikethatword—Tramstillstand—aportmanteauword.Timestillstand—nothing’shappenedhere.Timehasjuststoodstill.Everything’sgoingonherejustthesame.It’slikeghosts,onlytheotherwayround.”
“Idon’tknowwhatyouaretalkingabout.Areyougoingtostandherealldaytalkingabouttimeandnotevenringthebell?—AuntAdaisn’there,foronething.That’sdifferent.”Hepressedthebell.
“That’stheonlythingthatwillbedifferent.Myoldladywillbedrinkingmilkandtalkingaboutfireplaces,andMrs.Somebody-or-otherwillhaveswallowedathimbleorateaspoonandafunnylittlewomanwillcomesqueakingoutofaroomdemandinghercocoa,andMissPackardwillcomedownthestairs,and—”
Thedooropened.Ayoungwomaninanylonoverallsaid:“Mr.andMrs.Beresford?MissPackard’sexpectingyou.”
TheyoungwomanwasjustabouttoshowthemintothesamesittingroomasbeforewhenMissPackardcamedownthestairsandgreetedthem.Hermannerwassuitablynotquiteasbriskasusual.Itwasgrave,andhadakindofsemimourningaboutit—nottoomuch—thatmighthavebeenembarrassing.Shewasanexpertintheexactamountofcondolencewhichwouldbeacceptable.
ThreescoreyearsandtenwastheBiblicalacceptedspanoflife,andthedeathsinherestablishmentseldomoccurredbelowthatfigure.Theyweretobeexpectedandtheyhappened.
“Sogoodofyoutocome.I’vegoteverythinglaidouttidilyforyoutolookthrough.I’mgladyoucouldcomesosoonbecauseasamatteroffactIhavealreadythreeorfourpeoplewaitingforavacancytocomehere.Youwillunderstand,I’msure,andnotthinkthatIwastryingtohurryyouinanyway.”
“Ohno,ofcourse,wequiteunderstand,”saidTommy.
“It’sallstillintheroomMissFanshaweoccupied,”MissPackardexplained
MissPackardopenedthedooroftheroominwhichtheyhadlastseenAuntAda.Ithadthatdesertedlookaroomhaswhenthebediscoveredwithadustsheet,withtheshapesshowingbeneathitoffolded-upblanketsandneatlyarrangedpillows.
Thewardrobedoorsstoodopenandtheclothesithadheldhadbeenlaidonthetopofthebedneatlyfolded.
“Whatdoyouusuallydo—Imean,whatdopeopledomostlywithclothesandthingslikethat?”saidTuppence.
MissPackard,asinvariably,wascompetentandhelpful.
“Icangiveyouthenameoftwoorthreesocietieswhoareonlytoopleasedtohavethingsofthatkind.ShehadquiteagoodfurstoleandagoodqualitycoatbutIdon’tsupposeyouwouldhaveanypersonaluseforthem?Butperhapsyouhavecharitiesofyourownwhereyouwouldliketodisposeofthings.”
Tuppenceshookherhead.
“Shehadsomejewellery,”saidMissPackard.“Iremovedthatforsafekeeping.Youwillfinditintheright-handdrawerofthedressingtable.Iputittherejustbeforeyouwereduetoarrive.”
“Thankyouverymuch,”saidTommy,“forthetroubleyouhavetaken.”
Tuppencewasstaringatapictureoverthemantelpiece.Itwasasmalloilpaintingrepresentingapalepinkhousestandingadjacenttoacanalspannedbyasmallhumpbackedbridge.Therewasanemptyboatdrawnupunderthebridgeagainstthebankofthecanal.Inthedistanceweretwopoplartrees.ItwasaverypleasantlittlescenebutneverthelessTommywonderedwhyTuppencewasstaringatitwithsuchearnestness.
“Howfunny,”murmuredTuppence.
Tommylookedatherinquiringly.ThethingsthatTuppencethoughtfunnywere,heknewbylongexperience,notreallytobedescribedbysuchanadjectiveatall.
“Whatdoyoumean,Tuppence?”
“Itisfunny.InevernoticedthatpicturewhenIwasherebefore.ButtheoddthingisthatIhaveseenthathousesomewhere.Orperhapsit’sahousejustlikethatthatIhaveseen.Irememberitquitewell…FunnythatIcan’trememberwhenandwhere.”
“Iexpectyounoticeditwithoutreallynoticingyouwerenoticing,”saidTommy,feelinghischoiceofwordswasratherclumsyandnearlyaspainfullyrepetitiveasTuppence’sreiterationoftheword“funny.”
“Didyounoticeit,Tommy,whenwewereherelasttime?”
“No,butthenIdidn’tlookparticularly.”
“Oh,thatpicture,”saidMissPackard.“No,Idon’tthinkyouwouldhaveseenitwhenyouwereherethelasttimebecauseI’malmostsureitwasn’thangingoverthemantelpiecethen.Actuallyitwasapicturebelongingtooneofourotherguests,andshegaveittoyouraunt.MissFanshaweexpressedadmirationofitonceortwiceandthisotheroldladymadeherapresentofitandinsistedsheshouldhaveit.”
“OhIsee,”saidTuppence,“soofcourseIcouldn’thaveseenitherebefore.ButIstillfeelIknowthehousequitewell.Don’tyou,Tommy?”
“No,”saidTommy.
“Well,I’llleaveyounow,”saidMissPackardbriskly.“Ishallbeavailableatanytimethatyouwantme.”
Shenoddedwithasmile,andlefttheroom,closingthedoorbehindher.
“Idon’tthinkIreallylikethatwoman’steeth,”saidTuppence.
“What’swrongwiththem?”
“Toomanyofthem.Ortoobig—‘Thebettertoeatyouwith,mychild’—LikeRedRidingHood’sgrandmother.”
“Youseeminaveryoddsortofmoodtoday,Tuppence.”
“Iamrather.I’vealwaysthoughtofMissPackardasverynice—buttoday,somehow,sheseemstomerathersinister.Haveyoueverfeltthat?”
“No,Ihaven’t.Comeon,let’sgetonwithwhatwecameheretodo—lookoverpooroldAuntAda’s‘effects,’asthelawyerscallthem.That’sthedeskItoldyouabout—UncleWilliam’sdesk.Doyoulikeit?”
“It’slovely.Regency,Ishouldthink.It’snicefortheoldpeoplewhocomeheretobeabletobringsomeoftheirownthingswiththem.Idon’tcareforthehorsehairchairs,butI’dlikethatlittleworktable.It’sjustwhatweneedforthatcornerbythewindowwherewe’vegotthatperfectlyhideouswhatnot.”
“Allright,”saidTommy.“I’llmakeanoteofthosetwo.”
“Andwe’llhavethepictureoverthemantelpiece.It’sanawfullyattractivepictureandI’mquitesurethatI’veseenthathousesomewhere.Now,let’slookatthejewellery.”
Theyopenedthedressing-tabledrawer.TherewasasetofcameosandaFlorentinebraceletandearringsandaringwithdifferent-colouredstonesinit.
“I’veseenoneofthesebefore,”saidTuppence.“Theyspellanameusually.Dearestsometimes.Diamond,emerald,amethyst,no,it’snotdearest.Idon’tthinkitwouldbereally.Ican’timagineanyonegivingyourAuntAdaaringthatspeltdearest.Ruby,emerald—thedifficultyisoneneverknowswheretobegin.I’lltryagain.Ruby,emerald,anotherruby,no,Ithinkit’sagarnetandanamethystandanotherpinkystone,itmustbearubythistimeandasmalldiamondinthemiddle.Oh,ofcourse,it’sregard.Rathernicereally.Soold-fashionedandsentimental.”
Sheslippeditontoherfinger.
“IthinkDeborahmightliketohavethis,”shesaid,“andtheFlorentineset.She’sfrightfullykeenonVictorianthings.Alotofpeoplearenowadays.Now,Isupposewe’dbetterdotheclothes.That’salwaysrathermacabre,Ithink.Oh,thisisthefurstole.Quitevaluable,Ishouldthink.Iwouldn’twantitmyself.Iwonderifthere’sanyonehere—anyonewhowasespeciallynicetoAuntAda—orperhapssomespecialfriendamongtheotherinmates—visitors,Imean.Theycallthemvisitorsorguests,Inotice.Itwouldbenicetoofferherthestoleifso.It’srealsable.We’llaskMissPackard.Therestofthethingscangotothecharities.Sothat’sallsettled,isn’tit?We’llgoandfindMissPackardnow.Goodbye,AuntAda,”sheremarkedaloud,hereyesturningtothebed.“I’mgladwecametoseeyouthatlasttime.I’msorryyoudidn’tlikeme,butifitwasfuntoyounottolikemeandsaythoserudethings,Idon’tbegrudgeittoyou.Youhadtohavesomefun.Andwewon’tforgetyou.We’llthinkofyouwhenwelookatUncleWilliam’sdesk.”
TheywentinsearchofMissPackard.Tommyexplainedthattheywouldarrangeforthedeskandthesmallworktabletobecalledforanddespatchedtotheirownaddressandthathewouldarrangewiththelocalauctioneerstodisposeoftherestofthefurniture.HewouldleavethechoiceofanysocietieswillingtoreceiveclothingtoMissPackardifshewouldn’tmindthetrouble.
“Idon’tknowifthere’sanyoneherewhowouldlikehersablestole,”saidTuppence.“It’saveryniceone.Oneofherspecialfriends,perhaps?OrperhapsoneofthenurseswhohaddonesomespecialwaitingonAuntAda?”
“Thatisaverykindthoughtofyours,Mrs.Beresford.I’mafraidMissFanshawehadn’tanyspecialfriendsamongourvisitors,butMissO’Keefe,oneofthenurses,diddoalotforherandwasespeciallygoodandtactful,andIthinkshe’dbepleasedandhonouredtohaveit.”
“Andthere’sthepictureoverthemantelpiece,”saidTuppence.“I’dliketohavethat—butperhapsthepersonwhomitbelongedto,andwhogaveittoher,wouldwanttohaveitback.Ithinkweoughttoaskher—?”
MissPackardinterrupted.“Oh,I’msorry,Mrs.Beresford,I’mafraidwecan’tdothat.ItwasaMrs.LancasterwhogaveittoMissFanshaweandsheisn’twithusanylonger.”
“Isn’twithyou?”saidTuppence,surprised.“AMrs.Lancaster?TheoneIsawlasttimeIwashere—withwhitehairbrushedbackfromherface.Shewasdrinkingmilkinthesittingroomdownstairs.She’sgoneaway,yousay?”
“Yes.Itwasallrathersudden.Oneofherrelations,aMrs.Johnson,tookherawayaboutaweekago.Mrs.JohnsonhadreturnedfromAfricawhereshe’sbeenlivingforthelastfourorfiveyears—quiteunexpectedly.SheisnowabletotakecareofMrs.Lancasterinherownhome,sincesheandherhusbandaretakingahouseinEngland.Idon’tthink,”saidMissPackard,“thatMrs.Lancasterreallywantedtoleaveus.Shehadbecomeso—setinherwayshere,andshegotonverywellwitheveryoneandwashappy.Shewasverydisturbed,quitetearfulaboutit—butwhatcanonedo?Shehadn’treallyverymuchsayinthematter,becauseofcoursetheJohnsonswerepayingforherstayhere.Ididsuggestthatasshehadbeenheresolongandsettleddownsowell,itmightbeadvisabletoletherremain—”
“HowlonghadMrs.Lancasterbeenwithyou?askedTuppence.
“Oh,nearlysixyears,Ithink.Yes,that’saboutit.That’swhy,ofcourse,she’dreallycometofeelthatthiswasherhome.”
“Yes,”saidTuppence.“Yes,Icanunderstandthat.”ShefrownedandgaveanervousglanceatTommyandthenstuckaresolutechinintotheair.
“I’msorryshe’sleft.IhadafeelingwhenIwastalkingtoherthatI’dmetherbefore—herfaceseemedfamiliartome.AndthenafterwardsitcamebacktomethatI’dmetherwithanoldfriendofmine,aMrs.Blenkensop.IthoughtwhenIcamebackhereagaintovisitAuntAda,thatI’dfindoutfromherifthatwasso.Butofcourseifshe’sgonebacktoherownpeople,that’sdifferent.”
“Iquiteunderstand,Mrs.Beresford.Ifanyofourvisitorscangetintouchwithsomeoftheiroldfriendsorsomeonewhoknewtheirrelationsatonetime,itmakesagreatdifferencetothem.Ican’trememberaMrs.Blenkensopeverhavingbeenmentionedbyher,butthenIdon’tsupposethatwouldbelikelytohappeninanycase.”
“Canyoutellmealittlemoreabouther,whoherrelationswere,andhowshecametocomehere?”
“There’sreallyverylittletotell.AsIsaid,itwasaboutsixyearsagothatwehadlettersfromMrs.JohnsoninquiringabouttheHome,andthenMrs.Johnsonherselfcamehereandinspectedit.Shesaidshe’dhadmentionsofSunnyRidgefromafriendandsheinquiredthetermsandallthatand—thenshewentaway.AndaboutaweekorafortnightlaterwehadaletterfromafirmofsolicitorsinLondonmakingfurtherinquiries,andfinallytheywrotesayingthattheywouldlikeustoacceptMrs.LancasterandthatMrs.Johnsonwouldbringherhereinaboutaweek’stimeifwehadavacancy.Asithappened,wehad,andMrs.JohnsonbroughtMrs.LancasterhereandMrs.Lancasterseemedtoliketheplaceandlikedtheroomthatweproposedtoallother.Mrs.JohnsonsaidthatMrs.Lancasterwouldliketobringsomeofherownthings.Iquiteagreed,becausepeopleusuallydothatandfindthey’remuchhappier.Soitwasallarrangedverysatisfactorily.Mrs.JohnsonexplainedthatMrs.Lancasterwasarelationofherhusband’s,notaverynearone,butthattheyfeltworriedaboutherbecausetheythemselvesweregoingouttoAfrica—toNigeriaIthinkitwas,herhusbandwastakingupanappointmentthereanditwaslikelythey’dbethereforsomeyearsbeforetheyreturnedtoEngland,soastheyhadnohometoofferMrs.Lancaster,theywantedtomakesurethatshewasacceptedinaplacewhereshewouldbereallyhappy.Theywerequitesurefromwhatthey’dheardaboutthisplacethatthatwasso.SoitwasallarrangedveryhappilyindeedandMrs.Lancastersettleddownhereverywell.”
“Isee.”
“EveryoneherelikedMrs.Lancasterverymuch.Shewasalittlebit—well,youknowwhatImean—woollyinthehead.Imean,sheforgotthings,confusedthingsandcouldn’tremembernamesandaddressessometimes.”
“Didshegetmanyletters?”saidTuppence.“Imeanlettersfromabroadandthings?”
“Well,IthinkMrs.Johnson—orMr.Johnson—wroteonceortwicefromAfricabutnotafterthefirstyear.People,I’mafraid,doforget,youknow.Especiallywhentheygotoanewcountryandadifferentlife,andIdon’tthinkthey’dbeenverycloselyintouchwithheratanytime.Ithinkitwasjustadistantrelation,andafamilyresponsibility,andthatwasallitmeanttothem.Allthefinancialarrangementsweredonethroughthelawyer,Mr.Eccles,averynice,reputablefirm.Actuallywe’dhadoneortwodealingswiththatfirmbeforesothatwenewaboutthem,astheyknewaboutus.ButIthinkmostofMrs.Lancaster’sfriendsandrelationshadpassedoverandsoshedidn’thearmuchfromanyone,andIthinkhardlyanyoneevercametovisither.Oneverynice-lookingmancameaboutayearlater,Ithink.Idon’tthinkheknewherpersonallyatallwellbuthewasafriendofMr.Johnson’sandhadalsobeenintheColonialserviceoverseas.Ithinkhejustcametomakesureshewaswellandhappy.”
“Andafterthat,”saidTuppence,“everyoneforgotabouther.”
“I’mafraidso,”saidMissPackard.“It’ssad,isn’tit?Butit’stheusualratherthantheunusualthingtohappen.Fortunately,mostvisitorstousmaketheirownfriendshere.Theygetfriendlywithsomeonewhohastheirowntastesorcertainmemoriesincommon,andsothingssettledownquitehappily.Ithinkmostofthemforgetmostoftheirpastlife.”
“Someofthem,Isuppose,”saidTommy,“arealittle—”hehesitatedforaword“—alittle—”hishandwentslowlytohisforehead,buthedrewitaway.“Idon’tmean—”hesaid.
“Oh,Iknowperfectlywhatyoumean,”saidMissPackard.“Wedon’ttakementalpatients,youknow,butwedotakewhatyoumightcallborderlinecases.Imean,peoplewhoarerathersenile—can’tlookafterthemselvesproperly,orwhohavecertainfanciesandimaginations.Sometimestheyimaginethemselvestobehistoricalpersonages.Quiteinaharmlessway.We’vehadtwoMarieAntoinetteshere,oneofthemwasalwaystalkingaboutsomethingcalledthePetitTrianonanddrinkingalotofmilkwhichsheseemedtoassociatewiththeplace.AndwehadonedearoldsoulwhoinsistedthatshewasMadameCurieandthatshehaddiscoveredradium.Sheusedtoreadthepaperswithgreatinterest,especiallyanynewsofatomicbombsorscientificdiscoveries.Thenshealwaysexplaineditwassheandherhusbandwhohadfirststartedexperimentsontheselines.Harmlessdelusionsarethingsthatmanagetokeepyouveryhappywhenyou’reelderly.Theydon’tusuallylastallthetime,youknow.You’renotMarieAntoinetteeverydayorevenMadameCurie.Usuallyitcomesonaboutonceafortnight.ThenIsupposepresumablyonegetstiredofkeepingtheplayactingup.Andofcoursemoreoftenit’sjustforgetfulnessthatpeoplesufferfrom.Theycan’tquiterememberwhotheyare.Ortheykeepsayingthere’ssomethingveryimportantthey’veforgottenandiftheycouldonlyrememberit.Thatsortofthing.”
“Isee,”saidTuppence.Shehesitated,andthensaid,“Mrs.Lancaster—Wasitalwaysthingsaboutthatparticularfireplaceinthesittingroomsheremembered,orwasitanyfireplace?”
MissPackardstared—“Afireplace?Idon’tunderstandwhatyoumean.”
“ItwassomethingshesaidthatIdidn’tunderstand—Perhapsshe’dhadsomeunpleasantassociationwithafireplace,orreadsomestorythathadfrightenedher.”
“Possibly.”
Tuppencesaid:“I’mstillratherworriedaboutthepictureshegavetoAuntAda.”
“Ireallydon’tthinkyouneedworry,Mrs.Beresford.Iexpectshe’sforgottenallaboutitbynow.Idon’tthinksheprizeditparticularly.ShewasjustpleasedthatMissFanshaweadmireditandwasgladforhertohaveit,andI’msureshe’dbegladforyoutohaveitbecauseyouadmireit.It’sanicepicture,Ithoughtsomyself.NotthatIknowmuchaboutpictures.”
“ItellyouwhatI’lldo.I’llwritetoMrs.Johnsonifyou’llgivemeheraddress,andjustaskifit’sallrighttokeepit.”
“TheonlyaddressI’vegotisthehotelinLondontheyweregoingto—theCleveland,Ithinkitwascalled.Yes,theClevelandHotel,GeorgeStreet,W1.ShewastakingMrs.LancasterthereforaboutfourorfivedaysandafterthatIthinktheyweregoingtostaywithsomerelationsinScotland.IexpecttheClevelandHotelwillhaveaforwardingaddress.”
“Well,thankyou—Andnow,aboutthisfurstoleofAuntAda’s.”
“I’llgoandbringMissO’Keefetoyou.”
Shewentoutoftheroom.
“YouandyourMrs.Blenkensops,”saidTommy.
Tuppencelookedcomplacent.
“Oneofmybestcreations,”shesaid.“I’mgladIwasabletomakeuseofher—IwasjusttryingtothinkofanameandsuddenlyMrs.Blenkensopcameintomymind.Whatfunitwas,wasn’tit?”
“It’salongtimeago—Nomorespiesinwartimeandcounter-espionageforus.”
“More’sthepity.Itwasfun—livinginthatguesthouse—inventinganewpersonalityformyself—IreallybegantobelieveIwasMrs.Blenkensop.”
“Youwereluckyyougotawaysafelywithit,”saidTommy,“andinmyopinion,asIoncetoldyou,youoverdidit.”
“Ididnot.Iwasperfectlyincharacter.Anicewoman,rathersilly,andfartoomuchtakenupwithherthreesons.”
“That’swhatImean,”saidTommy.“Onesonwouldhavebeenquiteenough.Threesonsweretoomuchtoburdenyourselfwith.”
“Theybecamequiterealtome,”saidTuppence.“Douglas,Andrewand—goodness,I’veforgottenthenameofthethirdonenow.Iknowexactlywhattheylookedlikeandtheircharactersandjustwheretheywerestationed,andItalkedmostindiscreetlyaboutthelettersIgotfromthem.”
“Well,that’sover,”saidTommy.“There’snothingtofindoutinthisplace—soforgetaboutMrs.Blenkensop.WhenI’mdeadandburiedandyou’vesuitablymournedmeandtakenupyourresidenceinahomefortheaged,Iexpectyou’llbethinkingyouareMrs.Blenkensophalfofthetime.”
“It’llberatherboringtohaveonlyoneroletoplay,”saidTuppence.
“WhydoyouthinkoldpeoplewanttobeMarieAntoinette,andMadameCurieandalltherestofit?”askedTommy
“Iexpectbecausetheygetsobored.Onedoesgetbored.I’msureyouwouldifyoucouldn’tuseyourlegsandwalkabout,orperhapsyourfingersgettoostiffandyoucan’tknit.Desperatelyyouwantsomethingtodotoamuseyourselfsoyoutryonsomepubliccharacterandseewhatitfeelslikewhenyouareit.Icanunderstandthatperfectly.”
“I’msureyoucan,”saidTommy.“Godhelpthehomefortheagedthatyougoto.You’llbeCleopatramostofthetime,Iexpect.”
“Iwon’tbeafamousperson,”saidTuppence.“I’llbesomeonelikeakitchenmaidatAnneofCleves’castleretailingalotofspicygossipthatI’dheard.”
Thedooropened,andMissPackardappearedincompanywithatall,freckle-facedyoungwomaninnurse’sdressandamopofredhair.
“ThisisMissO’Keefe—Mr.andMrs.Beresford.Theyhavesomethingtotellyou.Excuseme,willyou?Oneofthepatientsisaskingforme.”
TuppencedulymadethepresentationofAuntAda’sfurstoleandNurseO’Keefewasenraptured.
“Oh!It’slovely.It’stoogoodforme,though.You’llbewantingityourself—”
“No,Idon’treally.It’sonthebigsideforme.I’mtoosmall.It’sjustrightforatallgirllikeyou.AuntAdawastall.”
“Ah!shewasthegrandoldlady—shemusthavebeenveryhandsomeasagirl.”
“Isupposeso,”saidTommydoubtfully.“Shemusthavebeenatartartolookafter,though.”
“Oh,shewasthat,indeed.Butshehadagrandspirit.Nothinggotherdown.Andshewasnofooleither.You’dbesurprisedthewayshegottoknowthings.Sharpasaneedle,shewas.”
“Shehadatemper,though.”
“Yes,indeed.Butit’sthewhiningkindthatgetsyoudown—allcomplaintsandmoans.MissFanshawewasneverdull.Grandstoriesshe’dtellyouoftheolddays—Rodeahorseonceupthestaircaseofacountryhousewhenshewasagirl—orsoshesaid—Wouldthatbetruenow?”
“Well,Iwouldn’tputitpasther,”saidTommy.
“Youneverknowwhatyoucanbelievehere.Thetalestheolddearscomeandtellyou.Criminalsthatthey’verecognized—Wemustnotifythepoliceatonce—ifnot,we’reallindanger.”
“Somebodywasbeingpoisonedlasttimewewerehere,Iremember,”saidTuppence.
“Ah!thatwasonlyMrs.Lockett.Ithappenstohereveryday.Butit’snotthepoliceshewants,it’sadoctortobecalled—she’sthatcrazyaboutdoctors.”
“Andsomebody—alittlewoman—callingoutforcocoa—”
“ThatwouldbeMrs.Moody.Poorsoul,she’sgone.”
“Youmeanlefthere—goneaway?”
“No—itwasathrombosistookher—verysudden.ShewasonewhowasverydevotedtoyourAunt—notthatMissFanshawealwayshadtimeforher—alwaystalkingnineteentothedozen,asshedid—”
“Mrs.Lancasterhasleft,Ihear.”
“Yes,herfolkcameforher.Shedidn’twanttogo,poorthing.”
“Whatwasthestoryshetoldme—aboutthefireplaceinthesittingroom?”
“Ah!she’dlotsofstories,thatone—aboutthethingsthathappenedtoher—andthesecretssheknew—”
“Therewassomethingaboutachild—akidnappedchildoramurderedchild—”
“It’sstrangeitis,thethingstheythinkup.It’stheTVasoftenasnotthatgivesthemtheideas—”
“Doyoufinditastrain,workingherewithalltheseoldpeople?Itmustbetiring.”
“Ohno—Ilikeoldpeople—That’swhyItookupGeriatricwork—”
“You’vebeenherelong?”
“Ayearandahalf—”Shepaused.“—ButI’mleavingnextmonth.”
“Oh!why?”
ForthefirsttimeacertainconstraintcameintoNurseO’Keefe’smanner.
“Well,yousee,Mrs.Beresford,oneneedsachange—”
“Butyou’llbedoingthesamekindofwork?”
“Ohyes—”Shepickedupthefurstole.“I’mthankingyouagainverymuch—andI’mglad,too,tohavesomethingtorememberMissFanshaweby—Shewasagrandoldlady—Youdon’tfindmanylikehernowadays.”
Five
DISAPPEARANCEOFANOLDLADY
AuntAda’sthingsarrivedinduecourse.Thedeskwasinstalledandadmired.Thelittleworktabledispossessedthewhatnot—whichwasrelegatedtoadarkcornerofthehall.AndthepictureofthepalepinkhousebythecanalbridgeTuppencehungoverthemantelpieceinherbedroomwhereshecouldseeiteverymorningwhendrinkingherearlymorning
Sinceherconsciencestilltroubledheralittle,TuppencewrotealetterexplaininghowthepicturehadcomeintotheirpossessionbutthatifMrs.Lancasterwouldlikeitreturned,shehadonlygottoletthemknow.ThisshedispatchedtoMrs.Lancaster,c/oMrs.Johnson,attheClevelandHotel,GeorgeStreet,London,W1.
Tothistherewasnoreply,butaweeklatertheletterwasreturnedwith“Notknownatthisaddress”scrawledonit.
“Howtiresome,”saidTuppence.
“Perhapstheyonlystayedforanightortwo,”suggestedTommy.
“You’dthinkthey’dhaveleftaforwardingaddress—”
“Didyouput‘Pleaseforward’onit?”
“Yes,Idid.Iknow,I’llringthemupandask—Theymusthaveputanaddressinthehotelregister—”
“I’dletitgoifIwereyou,”saidTommy.“Whymakeallthisfuss?Iexpecttheoldpussyhasforgottenallaboutthepicture.”
“Imightaswelltry.”
TuppencesatdownatthetelephoneandwaspresentlyconnectedtotheClevelandHotel.
SherejoinedTommyinhisstudyafewminuteslater.
“It’srathercurious,Tommy—theyhaven’tevenbeenthere.NoMrs.Johnson—noMrs.Lancaster—noroomsbookedforthem—oranytraceoftheirhavingstayedtherebefore.”
“IexpectMissPackardgotthenameofthehotelwrong.Wroteitdowninahurry—andthenperhapslostit—orremembereditwrong.Thingslikethatoftenhappen,youknow.”
“Ishouldn’thavethoughtitwouldatSunnyRidge.MissPackardissoefficientalways.”
“Perhapstheydidn’tbookbeforehandatthehotelanditwasfull,sotheyhadtogosomewhereelse.YouknowwhataccommodationinLondonislike—Mustyougoonfussing?”
Tuppenceretired.
Presentlyshecameback.
“IknowwhatI’mgoingtodo.I’llringupMissPackardandI’llgettheaddressofthelawyers—”
“Whatlawyers?”
“Don’tyouremembershesaidsomethingaboutafirmofsolicitorswhomadeallthearrangementsbecausetheJohnsonswereabroad?”
Tommy,whowasbusyoveraspeechhewasdraftingforaConferencehewasshortlytoattend,andmurmuringunderhisbreath—“theproperpolicyifsuchacontingencyshouldarise”—said:“Howdoyouspellcontingency,Tuppence?”
“DidyouhearwhatIwassaying?”
“Yes,verygoodidea—splendid—excellent—youdothat—”
Tuppencewentout—stuckherheadinagainandsaid:
“C-o-n-s-i-s-t-e-n-c-y.”
“Can’tbe—you’vegotthewrongword.”
“Whatareyouwritingabout?”
“ThePaperI’mreadingnextattheI.U.A.S.andIdowishyou’dletmedoitinpeace.”
“Sorry.”
Tuppenceremovedherself.Tommycontinuedtowritesentencesandthenscratchthemout.Hisfacewasjustbrightening,asthepaceofhiswritingincreased—whenoncemorethedooropened.
“Hereitis,”saidTuppence.“Partingdale,Harris,LockeridgeandPartingdale,32LincolnTerrace,W.C.2.Tel.Holborn051386.TheoperativememberofthefirmisMr.Eccles.”SheplacedasheetofpaperbyTommy’selbow.“Nowyoutakeon.”
“No!”saidTommyfirmly.
“Yes!She’syourAuntAda.”
“WheredoesAuntAdacomein?Mrs.Lancasterisnoauntofmine.”
“Butit’slawyers,”Tuppenceinsisted.“It’saman’sjobalwaystodealwithlawyers.Theyjustthinkwomenaresillyanddon’tpayattention—”
“Averysensiblepointofview,”saidTommy.
“Oh!Tommy—dohelp.YougoandtelephoneandI’llfindthedictionaryandlookhowtospellcontingency.”
Tommygaveheralook,butdeparted.
Hereturnedatlastandspokefirmly—“Thismatterisnowclosed,Tuppence.”
“YougotMr.Eccles?”
“StrictlyspeakingIgotaMr.WillswhoisdoubtlessthedogsbodyofthefirmofPartingford,LockjawandHarrison.Buthewasfullyinformedandglib.AlllettersandcommunicationsgoviatheSouthernCountiesBank,Hammersmithbranch,whowillforwardallcommunications.Andthere,Tuppence,letmetellyou,thetrailstops.Bankswillforwardthings—buttheywon’tyieldanyaddressestoyouoranyoneelsewhoasks.Theyhavetheircodeofrulesandthey’llsticktothem—TheirlipsaresealedlikeourmorepompousPrimeMinisters.”
“Allright,I’llsendalettercareoftheBank.”
“Dothat—andforgoodness’sake,leavemealone—orIshallnevergetmyspeechdone.”
“Thankyou,darling,”saidTuppence.“Idon’tknowwhatI’ddowithoutyou.”Shekissedthetopofhishead.
“It’sthebestbutter,”saidTommy.
II
ItwasnotuntilthefollowingThursdayeveningthatTommyaskedsuddenly,“Bytheway,didyouevergetanyanswertotheletteryousentcareoftheBanktoMrs.Johnson—”
“It’sniceofyoutoask,”saidTuppencesarcastically.“No,Ididn’t.”Sheaddedmeditatively,“Idon’tthinkIshall,either.”
“Whynot?”
“You’renotreallyinterested,”saidTuppencecoldly.
“Lookhere,Tuppence—IknowI’vebeenratherpreoccupied—It’sallthisI.U.A.S.—It’sonlyonceayear,thankgoodness.”
“ItstartsonMonday,doesn’tit?Forfivedays—”
“Fourdays.”
“AndyouallgodowntoaHushHush,topsecrethouseinthecountrysomewhere,andmakespeechesandreadPapersandvetyoungmenforSuperSecretassignmentsinEuropeandbeyond.I’veforgottenwhatI.U.A.S.standsfor.Alltheseinitialstheyhavenowadays—”
“InternationalUnionofAssociatedSecurity.”
“Whatamouthful!Quiteridiculous.AndIexpectthewholeplaceisbugged,andeverybodyknowseverybodyelse’smostsecretconversations.”
“Highlylikely,”saidTommywithagrin.
“AndIsupposeyouenjoyit?”
“Well,Idoinaway.Oneseesalotofoldfriends.”
“Allquitegagabynow,Iexpect.Doesanyofitdoanygood?”
“Heavens,whataquestion!CanoneeverletoneselfbelievethatyoucananswerthatbyaplainYesorNo—”
“Andareanyofthepeopleanygood?”
“I’danswerYestothat.Someofthemareverygoodindeed.”
“WilloldJoshbethere?”
“Yes,he’llbethere.”
“Whatishelikenowadays?”
“Extremelydeaf,halfblind,crippledwithrheumatism—andyou’dbesurprisedatthethingsthatdon’tgetpasthim.”
“Isee,”saidTuppence.Shemeditated.“IwishIwereinit,too.”
Tommylookedapologetic.
“Iexpectyou’llfindsomethingtodowhileI’maway.”
“Imightatthat,”saidTuppencemeditatively.
HerhusbandlookedatherwiththevagueapprehensionthatTuppencecouldalwaysarouseinhim.
“Tuppence—whatareyouupto?”
“Nothing,yet—SofarI’monlythinking.”
“Whatabout?”
“SunnyRidge.Andaniceoldladysippingmilkandtalkinginascattykindofwayaboutdeadchildrenandfireplaces.Itintriguedme.IthoughtthenthatI’dtryandfindoutmorefromhernexttimewecametoseeAuntAda—Buttherewasn’tanexttimebecauseAuntAdadied—AndwhenwewerenextinSunnyRidge—Mrs.Lancasterhad—disappeared!”
“Youmeanherpeoplehadtakenheraway?That’snotadisappearance—it’squitenatural.”
“It’sadisappearance—notraceableaddress—noanswertoletters—it’saplanneddisappearance.I’mmoreandmoresureofit.”
“But—”
Tuppencebrokeinuponhis“But.”
“Listen,Tommy—supposingthatsometimeorotheracrimehappened—Itseemedallsafeandcoveredup—Butthensupposethatsomeoneinthefamilyhadseensomething,orknownsomething—someoneelderlyandgarrulous—someonewhochatteredtopeople—someonewhomyousuddenlyrealizedmightbeadangertoyou—Whatwouldyoudoaboutit?”
“Arsenicinthesoup?”suggestedTommycheerfully.“Coshthemonthehead—Pushthemdownthestaircase—?”
“That’sratherextreme—Suddendeathsattractattention.You’dlookaboutforsomesimplerway—andyou’dfindone.AnicerespectableHomeforElderlyLadies.You’dpayavisittoit,callingyourselfMrs.JohnsonorMrs.Robinson—oryouwouldgetsomeunsuspectingthirdpartytomakearrangements—You’dfixthefinancialarrangementsthroughafirmofreliablesolicitors.You’vealreadyhinted,perhaps,thatyourelderlyrelativehasfanciesandmilddelusionssometimes—sodoagoodmanyoftheotheroldladies—Nobodywillthinkitodd—ifshecacklesonaboutpoisonedmilk,ordeadchildrenbehindafireplace,orasinisterkidnapping;nobodywillreallylisten.They’lljustthinkit’soldMrs.So-and-Sohavingherfanciesagain—nobodywilltakeanynoticeatall.”
“ExceptMrs.ThomasBeresford,”saidTommy.
“Allright,yes,”saidTuppence.“I’vetakennotice—”
“Butwhydidyou?”
“Idon’tquiteknow,”saidTuppenceslowly.“It’slikethefairystories.Bytheprickingofmythumbs—Somethingevilthiswaycomes—Ifeltsuddenlyscared.I’dalwaysthoughtofSunnyRidgeassuchanormalhappyplace—andsuddenlyIbegantowonder—That’stheonlywayIcanputit.Iwantedtofindoutmore.AndnowpooroldMrs.Lancasterhasdisappeared.Somebody’sspiritedheraway.”
“Butwhyshouldthey?”
“Icanonlythinkbecauseshewasgettingworse—worsefromtheirpointofview—rememberingmore,perhaps,talkingtopeoplemore,orperhapssherecognizedsomeone—orsomeonerecognizedher—ortoldhersomethingthatgavehernewideasaboutsomethingthathadoncehappened.Anyway,forsomereasonorothershebecamedangeroustosomeone.”
“Lookhere,Tuppence,thiswholethingisallsomethingsandsomeones.It’sjustanideayou’vethoughtup.Youdon’twanttogomixingyourselfupinthingsthatarenobusinessofyours—”
“There’snothingtobemixedupinaccordingtoyou,”saidTuppence.“Soyouneedn’tworryatall.”
“YouleaveSunnyRidgealone.”
“Idon’tmeantogobacktoSunnyRidge.Ithinkthey’vetoldmealltheyknowthere.Ithinkthatthatoldladywasquitesafewhilstshewasthere.Iwanttofindoutwheresheisnow—Iwanttogettoherwhereversheisintime—beforesomethinghappenstoher.”
“Whatonearthdoyouthinkmighthappentoher?”
“Idon’tliketothink.ButI’monthetrail—I’mgoingtobePrudenceBeresford,PrivateInvestigator.DoyourememberwhenwewereBluntsBrilliantDetectives?”
“Iwas,”saidTommy.“YouwereMissRobinson,myprivatesecretary.”
“Notallthetime.Anyway,that’swhatI’mgoingtodowhileyou’replayingatInternationalEspionageatHushHushManor.It’sthe‘SaveMrs.Lancaster’thatI’mgoingtobebusywith.”
“You’llprobablyfindherperfectlyallright.”
“IhopeIshall.NobodywouldbebetterpleasedthanIshould.”
“Howdoyouproposetosetaboutit?”
“AsItoldyou,I’vegottothinkfirst.Perhapsanadvertisementofsomekind?No,thatwouldbeamistake.”
“Well,becareful,”saidTommy,ratherinadequately.
Tuppencedidnotdeigntoreply.
III
OnMondaymorning,Albert,thedomesticmainstayoftheBeresfords’lifeformanylongyears,eversincehehadbeenropedintoanticriminalactivitiesbythemasacarroty-hairedliftboy,depositedthetrayofearlymorningteaonthetablebetweenthetwobeds,pulledbackthecurtains,announcedthatitwasafineday,andremovedhisnowportlyformfromtheroom.
Tuppenceyawned,satup,rubbedhereyes,pouredoutacupoftea,droppedasliceoflemoninit,andremarkedthatitseemedaniceday,butyouneverknew.
Tommyturnedoverandgroaned.
“Wakeup,”saidTuppence.“Rememberyou’regoingplacestoday.”
“OhLord,”saidTommy.“SoIam.”
He,too,satupandhelpedhimselftotea.Helookedwithappreciationatthepictureoverthemantelpiece.
“Imustsay,Tuppence,yourpicturelooksverynice.”
“It’sthewaythesuncomesinfromthewindowsidewaysandlightsitup.”
“Peaceful,”saidTommy.
“IfonlyIcouldrememberwhereitwasI’dseenitbefore.”
“Ican’tseethatitmatters.You’llremembersometimeorother.”
“That’snogood.Iwanttoremembernow.”
“Butwhy?”
“Don’tyousee?It’stheonlyclueI’vegot.ItwasMrs.Lancaster’spicture—”
“Butthetwothingsdon’ttieuptogetheranyway,”saidTommy.“Imean,it’struethatthepictureoncebelongedtoMrs.Lancaster.Butitmayhavebeenjustapicturesheboughtatanexhibitionorthatsomebodyinherfamilydid.Itmayhavebeenapicturethatsomebodygaveherasapresent.ShetookittoSunnyRidgewithherbecauseshethoughtitlookednice.There’snoreasonitshouldhaveanythingtodowithherpersonally.Ifithad,shewouldn’thavegivenittoAuntAda.”
“It’stheonlyclueI’vegot,”saidTuppence.
“It’sanicepeacefulhouse,”saidTommy.
“Allthesame,Ithinkit’sanemptyhouse.”
“Whatdoyoumean,empty?”
“Idon’tthink,”saidTuppence,“there’sanybodylivinginit.Idon’tthinkanybody’severgoingtocomeoutofthathouse.Nobody’sgoingtowalkacrossthatbridge,nobody’sgoingtountiethatboatandrowawayinit.”
“Forgoodness’sake,Tuppence.”Tommystaredather.“What’sthematterwithyou?”
“IthoughtsothefirsttimeIsawit,”saidTuppence.“Ithought‘Whatanicehousethatwouldbetolivein.’AndthenIthought‘Butnobodydoeslivehere,I’msuretheydon’t.’ThatshowsyouthatIhaveseenitbefore.Waitaminute.Waitaminute…it’scoming.It’scoming.”
Tommystaredather.
“Outofawindow,”saidTuppencebreathlessly.“Outofacarwindow?No,no,thatwouldbethewrongangle.Runningalongsidethecanal…andalittlehumpbackedbridgeandthepinkwallsofthehouse,thetwopoplartrees,morethantwo.Therewerelotsmorepoplartrees.Ohdear,ohdear,ifIcould—”
“Oh,comeoffit,Tuppence.”
“Itwillcomebacktome.”
“GoodLord,”Tommylookedathiswatch.“I’vegottohurry.Youandyourdéjàvupicture.”
Hejumpedoutofbedandhastenedtothebathroom.Tuppencelaybackonherpillowsandclosedhereyes,tryingtoforcearecollectionthatjustremainedelusivelyoutofreach.
TommywaspouringoutasecondcupofcoffeeinthediningroomwhenTuppenceappearedflushedwithtriumph.
“I’vegotit—IknowwhereIsawthathouse.Itwasoutofthewindowofarailwaytrain.”
“Where?When?”
“Idon’tknow.I’llhavetothink.Iremembersayingtomyself:‘SomedayI’llgoandlookatthathouse’—andItriedtoseewhatthenameofthenextstationwas.Butyouknowwhatrailwaysarenowadays.They’vepulleddownhalfthestations—andthenextonewewentthroughwasalltorndown,andgrassgrowingovertheplatforms,andnonameboardoranything.”
“Wherethehell’smybriefcase?Albert!”
Afrenziedsearchtookplace.
Tommycamebacktosayabreathlessgoodbye.Tuppencewassittinglookingmeditativelyatafriedegg.
“Goodbye,”saidTommy.“AndforGod’ssake,Tuppence,don’tgopokingintosomethingthat’snoneofyourbusiness.”
“Ithink,”saidTuppence,meditatively,“thatwhatIshallreallydo,istotakeafewrailwayjourneys.”
Tommylookedslightlyrelieved.
“Yes,”hesaidencouragingly,“youtrythat.Buyyourselfaseasonticket.There’ssomeschemewhereyoucantravelathousandmilesallovertheBritishIslesforaveryreasonablefixedsum.Thatoughttosuityoudowntotheground,Tuppence.Youtravelbyallthetrainsyoucanthinkofinallthelikelyparts.ThatoughttokeepyouhappyuntilIcomehomeagain.”
“GivemylovetoJosh.”
“Iwill.”Headded,lookingathiswifeinaworriedmanner,“Iwishyouwerecomingwithme.Don’t—don’tdoanythingstupid,willyou?”
“Ofcoursenot,”saidTuppence.
Six
TUPPENCEONTHETRAIL
“Ohdear,”sighedTuppence,“ohdear.”Shelookedroundherwithgloomyeyes.Never,shesaidtoherself,hadshefeltmoremiserable.NaturallyshehadknownshewouldmissTommy,butshehadnoideahowmuchshewasgoingtomisshim.
Duringthelongcourseoftheirmarriedlifetheyhadhardlyeverbeenseparatedforanylengthoftime.Startingbeforetheirmarriage,theyhadcalledthemselvesapairof“youngadventurers.”Theyhadbeenthroughvariousdifficultiesanddangerstogether,theyhadmarried,theyhadhadtwochildrenandjustastheworldwasseemingratherdullandmiddle-agedtothem,thesecondwarhadcomeaboutandinwhatseemedanalmostmiraculouswaytheyhadbeentangledupyetagainontheoutskirtsoftheBritishIntelligence.Asomewhatunorthodoxpair,theyhadbeenrecruitedbyaquietnondescriptmanwhocalledhimself“Mr.Carter,”buttowhosewordeverybodyseemedtobow.Theyhadhadadventures,andonceagaintheyhadhadthemtogether.This,bytheway,hadnotbeenplannedbyMr.Carter.Tommyalonehadbeenrecruited.ButTuppencedisplayingallhernaturalingenuity,hadmanagedtoeavesdropinsuchafashionthatwhenTommyhadarrivedataguesthouseontheseacoastintheroleofacertainMr.Meadows,thefirstpersonhehadseentherehadbeenamiddle-agedladyplyingknittingneedles,whohadlookedupathimwithinnocenteyesandwhomhehadbeenforcedtogreetasMrs.Blenkensop.Thereaftertheyhadworkedasapair.
“However,”thoughtTuppencetoherself,“Ican’tdoitthistime.”Noamountofeavesdropping,ofingenuity,oranythingelsewouldtakehertotherecessesofHushHushManorortoparticipationintheintricaciesofI.U.A.S.JustanOldBoysClub,shethoughtresentfully.WithoutTommytheflatwasempty,theworldwaslonely,and“Whatonearth,”thoughtTuppence,“amItodowithmyself?”
ThequestionwasreallypurelyrhetoricalforTuppencehadalreadystartedonthefirststepsofwhatsheplannedtodowithherself.Therewasnoquestionthistimeofintelligencework,ofcounterespionageoranythingofthatkind.Nothingofanofficialnature.“PrudenceBeresford,PrivateInvestigator,that’swhatIam,”saidTuppencetoherself.
Afterascrappylunchhadbeenhastilyclearedaway,thediningroomtablewasstrewnwithrailwaytimetables,guidebooks,maps,andafewolddiarieswhichTuppencehadmanagedtodisinter.
Sometimeinthelastthreeyears(notlonger,shewassure)shehadtakenarailwayjourney,andlookingoutofthecarriagewindow,hadnoticedahouse.But,whatrailwayjourney?
Likemostpeopleatthepresenttime,theBeresfordstravelledmainlybycar.Therailwayjourneystheytookwerefewandfarbetween.
Scotland,ofcourse,whentheywenttostaywiththeirmarrieddaughterDeborah—butthatwasanightjourney.
Penzance—summerholidays—butTuppenceknewthatlinebyheart.
No,thishadbeenamuchmorecasualjourney.
Withdiligenceandperseverance,Tuppencehadmadeameticulouslistofallthepossiblejourneysshehadtakenwhichmightcorrespondtowhatshewaslookingfor.Oneortworacemeetings,avisittoNorthumberland,twopossibleplacesinWales,achristening,twoweddings,asaletheyhadattended,somepuppiesshehadoncedeliveredforafriendwhobredthemandwhohadgonedownwithinfluenza.Themeetingplacehadbeenanarid-lookingcountryjunctionwhosenameshecouldn’tremember.
Tuppencesighed.ItseemedasthoughTommy’ssolutionwastheoneshemighthavetoadopt—Buyakindofcircularticketandactuallytraveloverthemostlikelystretchesofrailwayline.
Inasmallnotebookshehadjotteddownanysnatchesofextramemories—vagueflashes—incasetheymighthelp.
Ahat,forinstance—Yes,ahatthatshehadthrownupontherack.Shehadbeenwearingahat—so—aweddingorthechristening—certainlynotpuppies.
And—anotherflash—kickingoffhershoes—becauseherfeethurt.Yes—thatwasdefinite—shehadbeenactuallylookingattheHouse—andshehadkickedoffhershoesbecauseherfeethurt.
So,then,ithaddefinitelybeenasocialfunctionshehadeitherbeengoingto,orreturningfrom—Returningfrom,ofcourse—becauseofthepainfulnessofherfeetfromlongstandingaboutinherbestshoes.Andwhatkindofahat?Becausethatwouldhelp—afloweryhat—asummerwedding—oravelvetwinterone?
TuppencewasbusyjottingdowndetailsfromtheRailwaytimetablesofdifferentlineswhenAlbertcameintoaskwhatshewantedforsupper—andwhatshewantedorderedinfromthebutcherandthegrocer.
“IthinkI’mgoingtobeawayforthenextfewdays,”saidTuppence.“Soyouneedn’torderinanything.I’mgoingtotakesomerailwayjourneys.”
“Willyoubewantingsomesandwiches?”
“Imight.Getsomehamorsomething.”
“Eggandcheesedoyou?Orthere’satinofpatéinthelarder—it’sbeentherealongwhile,timeitwaseaten.”Itwasasomewhatsinisterrecommendation,butTuppencesaid,
“Allright.That’lldo.”
“Wantlettersforwarded?”
“Idon’tevenknowwhereI’mgoingyet,”saidTuppence.
“Isee,”saidAlbert.
ThecomfortablethingaboutAlbertwasthathealwaysacceptedeverything.Nothingeverhadtobeexplainedtohim.
HewentawayandTuppencesettleddowntoherplanning—whatshewantedwas:asocialengagementinvolvingahatandpartyshoes.Unfortunatelytheonesshehadlistedinvolveddifferentrailwaylines—OneweddingontheSouthernRailway,theotherinEastAnglia.ThechristeningnorthofBedford.
Ifshecouldrememberalittlemoreaboutthescenery…Shehadbeensittingontheright-handsideofthetrain.Whathadshebeenlookingatbeforethecanal—Woods?Trees?Farmland?Adistantvillage?
Strainingherbrain,shelookedupwithafrown—Alberthadcomeback.HowfarshewasatthatmomentfromknowingthatAlbertstandingtherewaitingforattentionwasneithermorenorlessthanananswertoprayer—
“Well,whatisitnow,Albert?”
“Ifit’sthatyou’regoingtobeawayalldaytomorrow—”
“Andthedayafteraswell,probably—”
“Woulditbeallrightformetohavethedayoff?”
“Yes,ofcourse.”
“It’sElizabeth—comeoutinspotsshehas.Millythinksit’smeasles—”
“Ohdear.”MillywasAlbert’swifeandElizabethwastheyoungestofhischildren.“SoMillywantsyouathome,ofcourse.”
Albertlivedinasmallneathouseastreetortwoaway.
“It’snotthatsomuch—Shelikesmeoutofthewaywhenshe’sgotherhandsfull—shedoesn’twantmemessingthingsup—Butit’stheotherkids—Icouldtake’emsomewhereoutofherway.”
“Ofcourse.You’reallinquarantine,Isuppose.”
“Oh!well,bestfor’emalltogetit,andgetitover.Charlie’shadit,andsohasJean.Anyway,that’llbeallright?”
Tuppenceassuredhimthatitwouldbeallright.
Somethingwasstirringinthedepthsofhersubconscious—Ahappyanticipation—arecognition—Measles—Yes,measles.Somethingtodowithmeasles.
Butwhyshouldthehousebythecanalhaveanythingtodowithmeasles…?
Ofcourse!Anthea.AntheawasTuppence’sgoddaughter—andAnthea’sdaughterJanewasatschool—herfirstterm—anditwasPrizeGivingandAntheahadrungup—hertwoyoungerchildrenhadcomeoutinameaslerashandshehadnobodyinthehousetohelpandJanewouldbeterriblydisappointedifnobodycame—CouldTuppencepossibly?—
AndTuppencehadsaidofcourse—Shewasn’tdoinganythingparticular—she’dgodowntotheschoolandtakeJaneoutandgiveherlunchandthengobacktothesportsandalltherestofit.Therewasaspecialschooltrain.
Everythingcamebackintohermindwithastonishingclarity—eventhedressshe’dworn—asummerprintofcornflowers!
Shehadseenthehouseonthereturnjourney.
Goingdownthereshehadbeenabsorbedinamagazineshehadbought,butcomingbackshehadhadnothingtoread,andshehadlookedoutofthewindowuntil,exhaustedbytheactivitiesoftheday,andthepressureofhershoes,shehaddroppedofftosleep.
Whenshehadwokenupthetrainhadbeenrunningbesideacanal.Itwaspartiallywoodedcountry,anoccasionalbridge,sometimesatwistinglaneorminorroad—adistantfarm—novillages.
Thetrainbegantoslowdown,fornoreasonitwouldseem,exceptthatasignalmustbeagainstit.Itdrewjerkilytoahaltbyabridge,alittlehumpbackedbridgewhichspannedthecanal,adisusedcanalpresumably.Ontheothersideofthecanal,closetothewater,wasthehouse—ahousethatTuppencethoughtatoncewasoneofthemostattractivehousesshehadeverseen—aquiet,peacefulhouse,irradiatedbythegoldenlightofthelateafternoonsun.
Therewasnohumanbeingtobeseen—nodogs,orlivestock.Yetthegreenshutterswerenotfastened.Thehousemustbelivedin,butnow,atthismoment,itwasempty.
“Imustfindoutaboutthathouse,”Tuppencehadthought.“SomedayImustcomebackhereandlookatit.It’sthekindofhouseI’dliketolivein.”
Withajerkthetrainlurchedslowlyforwards.
“I’lllookoutforthenameofthenextstation—sothatI’llknowwhereitis.”
Buttherehadbeennoappropriatestation.Itwasthetimewhenthingswerebeginningtohappentorailways—smallstationswereclosed,evenpulleddown,grasssproutedonthedecayedplatforms.Fortwentyminutes—halfanhour—thetrainranon,butnothingidentifiablewastobeseen.Overfields,inthefardistance,Tuppenceoncesawthespireofachurch.
Thenhadcomesomefactorycomplex—tallchimneys—alineofprefabhouses,thenopencountryagain.
Tuppencehadthoughttoherself—Thathousewasratherlikeadream!Perhapsitwasadream—Idon’tsupposeI’llevergoandlookforit—toodifficult.Besides,ratherapity,perhaps—
Someday,maybe,I’llcomeacrossitbyaccident!
Andso—shehadforgottenallaboutit—untilapicturehangingonawallhadreawakenedaveiledmemory.
Andnow,thankstoonewordutteredunwittinglybyAlbert,thequestwasended
Or,tospeakcorrectly,aquestwasbeginning.
Tuppencesortedoutthreemaps,aguidebook,andvariousotheraccessories.
Roughlynowsheknewtheareashewouldhavetosearch.Jane’sschoolshemarkedwithalargecross—thebranchrailwayline,whichranintothemainlinetoLondon—thetimelapsewhilstshehadslept.
Thefinalareaasplannedcoveredaconsiderablemileage—northofMedchester,southeastofMarketBasingwhichwasasmalltown,butwasquiteanimportantrailwayjunction,westprobablyofShaleborough.
She’dtakethecar,andstartearlytomorrowmorning.
Shegotupandwentintothebedroomandstudiedthepictureoverthemantelpiece.
Yes,therewasnomistake.Thatwasthehouseshehadseenfromthetrainthreeyearsago.Thehouseshehadpromisedtolookforsomeday—
Somedayhadcome—Somedaywastomorrow.
BOOK2THEHOUSEONTHECANAL
Seven
THEFRIENDLYWITCH
Beforeleavingthenextmorning,Tuppencetookalastcarefullookatthepicturehanginginherroom,notsomuchtofixitsdetailsfirmlyinhermind,buttomemorizeitspositioninthelandscape.Thistimeshewouldbeseeingitnotfromthewindowofatrainbutfromtheroad.Theangleofapproachwouldbequitedifferent.Theremightbemanyhumpbackedbridges,manysimilardisusedcanals—perhapsotherhouseslookinglikethisone(butthatTuppencerefusedtobelieve).
Thepicturewassigned,butthesignatureoftheartistwasillegible—AllthatcouldbesaidwasthatitbeganwithB.
Turningawayfromthepicture,Tuppencecheckedherparaphernalia:anA.B.C.anditsattachedrailwaymap;aselectionofordnancemaps;tentativenamesofplaces—Medchester,Westleigh—MarketBasing—Middlesham—Inchwell—Betweenthem,theyenclosedthetrianglethatshehaddecidedtoexamine.Withhershetookasmallovernightbagsinceshewouldhaveathreehours’drivebeforesheevenarrivedattheareaofoperations,andafterthat,itmeant,shejudged,agooddealofslowdrivingalongcountryroadsandlaneslookingforlikelycanals.
AfterstoppinginMedchesterforcoffeeandasnack,shepushedonbyasecond-classroadadjacenttoarailwayline,andleadingthroughwoodedcountrywithplentyofstreams.
AsinmostoftheruraldistrictsofEngland,signpostswereplentiful,bearingnamesthatTuppencehadneverheardof,andseldomseemingtoleadtotheplaceinquestion.ThereseemedtobeacertaincunningaboutthispartoftheroadsystemofEngland.Theroadwouldtwistofffromthecanal,andwhenyoupressedonhopefullytowhereyouthoughtthecanalmighthavetakenitself,youdrewablank.IfyouhadgoneinthedirectionofGreatMichelden,thenextsignpostyoucametoofferedyouachoiceoftworoads,onetoPenningtonSparrowandtheothertoFarlingford.YouchoseFarlingfordandmanagedactuallytogettosuchaplacebutalmostimmediatelythenextsignpostsentyoubackfirmlytoMedchester,sothatyoupracticallyretracedyoursteps.ActuallyTuppenceneverdidfindGreatMichelden,andforalongtimeshewasquiteunabletofindthelostcanal.Ifshehadhadanyideaofwhichvillageshewaslookingfor,thingsmighthavegonemoreeasily.Trackingcanalsonmapswasmerelypuzzling.NowandagainshecametotherailwaywhichcheeredherupandshewouldthenpushonhopefullyforBeesHill,SouthWintertonandFarrellSt.Edmund.FarrellSt.Edmundhadoncehadastation,butithadbeenabolishedsometimeago!“Ifonly,”thoughtTuppence,“therewassomewell-behavedroadthatranalongsideacanal,oralongsidearailwayline,itwouldmakeitsomucheasier.”
ThedayworeonandTuppencebecamemoreandmorebaffled.OccasionallyshecameuponafarmadjacenttoacanalbuttheroadhavingledtothefarminsistedonhavingnothingmoretodowiththecanalandwentoverahillandarrivedatsomethingcalledWestpenfoldwhichhadachurchwithasquaretowerwhichwasnouseatall.
FromtherewhendisconsolatelypursuingaruttedroadwhichseemedtheonlywayoutofWestpenfoldandwhichtoTuppence’ssenseofdirection(whichwasnowbecomingincreasinglyunreliable)seemedtoleadintheoppositedirectiontoanywhereshecouldpossiblywanttogo,shecameabruptlytoaplacewheretwolanesforkedrightandleft.Therewastheremainsofasignpostbetweenthem,thearmsofwhichhadbothbrokenoff.
“Whichway?”saidTuppence.“Whoknows?Idon’t.”
Shetooktheleft-handone.
Itmeanderedon,windingtoleftandtoright.Finallyitshotroundabend,widenedoutandclimbedahill,comingoutofwoodsintoopendownlikecountry.Havingsurmountedthecrestittookasteepdownwardcourse.Notveryfarawayaplaintivecrysounded—
“Soundslikeatrain,”saidTuppence,withsuddenhope.
Itwasatrain—Thenbelowherwastherailwaylineandonitagoodstrainutteringcriesofdistressasitpuffedalong.AndbeyonditwasthecanalandontheothersideofthecanalwasahousethatTuppencerecognizedand,leadingacrossthecanalwasasmallhumpbacked,pink-brickedbridge.Theroaddippedundertherailway,cameup,andmadeforthebridge.Tuppencedroveverygentlyoverthenarrowbridge.Beyondittheroadwentonwiththehouseontheright-handsideofit.Tuppencedroveonlookingforthewayin.Theredidn’tseemtobeone.Afairlyhighwallshieldeditfromtheroad.
Thehousewasonherrightnow.Shestoppedthecarandwalkedbackontothebridgeandlookedatwhatshecouldseeofthehousefromthere.
Mostofthetallwindowswereshutteredwithgreenshutters.Thehousehadaveryquietandemptylook.Itlookedpeacefulandkindlyinthesettingsun.Therewasnothingtosuggestthatanyonelivedinit.Shewentbacktothecaranddrovealittlefarther.Thewall,amoderatelyhighone,ranalongtoherright.Theleft-handsideoftheroadwasmerelyahedgegivingongreenfields.
Presentlyshecametoawrought-irongateinthewall.Sheparkedthecarbythesideoftheroad,gotoutandwentovertolookthroughtheironworkofthegate.Bystandingontiptoeshecouldlookoverit.Whatshelookedintowasagarden.Theplacewascertainlynotafarmnow,thoughitmighthavebeenonce.Presumablyitgaveonfieldsbeyondit.Thegardenwastendedandcultivated.Itwasnotparticularlytidybutitlookedasthoughsomeonewastryingratherunsuccessfullytokeepittidy.
Fromtheirongateacircularpathcurvedthroughthegardenandroundtothehouse.Thismustbepresumablythefrontdoor,thoughitdidn’tlooklikeafrontdoor.Itwasinconspicuousthoughsturdy—abackdoor.Thehouselookedquitedifferentfromthisside.Tobeginwith,itwasnotempty.Peoplelivedthere.Windowswereopen,curtainsflutteredatthem,agarbagepailstoodbythedoor.AtthefarendofthegardenTuppencecouldseealargemandigging,abigelderlymanwhodugslowlyandwithpersistence.Certainlylookedatfromherethehouseheldnoenchantment,noartistwouldhavewantedparticularlytopaintit.Itwasjustahouseandsomebodylivedinit.Tuppencewondered.Shehesitated.Shouldshegoonandforgetthehousealtogether?No,shecouldhardlydothat,notafterallthetroubleshehadtaken.Whattimewasit?Shelookedatherwatchbutherwatchhadstopped.Thesoundofadooropeningcamefrominside.Shepeeredthroughthegateagain.
Thedoorofthehousehadopenedandawomancameout.Sheputdownamilkbottleandthen,straighteningup,glancedtowardsthegate.ShesawTuppenceandhesitatedforamoment,andthenseemingtomakeuphermind,shecamedownthepathtowardsthegate.“Why,”saidTuppencetoherself,“why,it’safriendlywitch!”
Itwasawomanofaboutfifty.Shehadlongstragglyhairwhichwhencaughtbythewind,flewoutbehindher.ItremindedTuppencevaguelyofapicture(byNevinson?)ofayoungwitchonabroomstick.Thatisperhapswhythetermwitchhadcomeintohermind.Buttherewasnothingyoungorbeautifulaboutthiswoman.Shewasmiddle-aged,withalinedface,dressedinaratherslipshodway.Shehadakindofsteeplehatperchedonherheadandhernoseandherchincameuptowardseachother.Asadescriptionshecouldhavebeensinisterbutshedidnotlooksinister.Sheseemedtohaveabeamingandboundlessgoodwill.“Yes,”thoughtTuppence,“you’reexactlylikeawitch,butyou’reafriendlywitch.Iexpectyou’rewhattheyusedtocalla‘whitewitch.’”
Thewomancamedowninahesitatingmannertothegateandspoke.Hervoicewaspleasantwithafaintcountryburrinitofsomekind.
“Wereyoulookingforanything?”shesaid.
“I’msorry,”saidTuppence,“youmustthinkitveryrudeofmelookingintoyourgardeninthisway,but—butIwonderedaboutthishouse.”
“Wouldyouliketocomeinandlookroundthegarden?”saidthefriendlywitch.
“Well—well—thankyoubutIdon’twanttobotheryou.”
“Oh,it’snobother.I’venothingtodo.Lovelyafternoon,isn’tit?”
“Yes,itis,”saidTuppence.
“Ithoughtperhapsyou’dlostyourway,”saidthefriendlywitch.“Peopledosometimes.”
“Ijustthought,”saidTuppence,“thatthiswasaveryattractive-lookinghousewhenIcamedownthehillontheothersideofthebridge.”
“That’stheprettiestside,”saidthewoman.“Artistscomeandsketchitsometimes—ortheyusedto—once.”
“Yes,”saidTuppence,“Iexpecttheywould.IbelieveI—Isawapicture—atsomeexhibition,”sheaddedhurriedly.“Somehouseverylikethis.Perhapsitwasthis.”
“Oh,itmayhavebeen.Funny,youknow,artistscomeanddoapicture.Andthenotherartistsseemtocometoo.It’sjustthesamewhentheyhavethelocalpictureshoweveryyear.Artistsallseemtochoosethesamespot.Idon’tknowwhy.Youknow,it’seitherabitofmeadowandbrook,oraparticularoaktree,oraclumpofwillows,orit’sthesameviewoftheNormanchurch.Fiveorsixdifferentpicturesofthesamething,mostofthemprettybad,Ishouldthink.ButthenIdon’tknowanythingaboutart.Comein,do.”
“You’reverykind,”saidTuppence.“You’vegotaverynicegarden,”sheadded.
“Oh,it’snottoobad.We’vegotafewflowersandvegetablesandthings.Butmyhusbandcan’tdomuchworknowadaysandI’vegotnotimewithonethingandanother.”
“Isawthishouseoncefromthetrain,”saidTuppence.“ThetrainslowedupandIsawthishouseandIwonderedwhetherI’deverseeitagain.Quitesometimeago.”
“Andnowsuddenlyyoucomedownthehillinyourcarandthereitis,”saidthewoman.“Funny,thingshappenlikethat,don’tthey?”
“Thankgoodness,”Tuppencethought,“thiswomanisextraordinarilyeasytotalkto.Onehardlyhastoimagineanythingtoexplainoneself.Onecanalmostsayjustwhatcomesintoone’shead.”
“Liketocomeinsidethehouse?”saidthefriendlywitch.“Icanseeyou’reinterested.It’squiteanoldhouse,youknow.Imean,lateGeorgianorsomethinglikethat,theysay,onlyit’sbeenaddedonto.Ofcourse,we’veonlygothalfthehouse,youknow.”
“OhIsee,”saidTuppence.“It’sdividedintwo,isthatit?”
“Thisisreallythebackofit,”saidthewoman.“Thefront’stheotherside,thesideyousawfromthebridge.Itwasafunnywaytopartitionit,Ishouldhavethought.I’dhavethoughtitwouldhavebeeneasiertodoittheotherway.Youknow,rightandleft,sotospeak.Notbackandfront.Thisisallreallytheback.”
“Haveyoulivedherelong?”askedTuppence.
“Threeyears.Aftermyhusbandretiredwewantedalittleplacesomewhereinthecountrywherewe’dbequiet.Somewherecheap.Thiswasgoingcheapbecauseofcourseit’sverylonely.You’renotnearavillageoranything.”
“Isawachurchsteepleinthedistance.”
“Ah,that’sSuttonChancellor.Twoandahalfmilesfromhere.We’reintheparish,ofcourse,buttherearen’tanyhousesuntilyougettothevillage.It’saverysmallvillagetoo.You’llhaveacupoftea?”saidthefriendlywitch.“IjustputthekettleonnottwominutesagowhenIlookedoutandsawyou.”Sheraisedbothhandstohermouthandshouted.“Amos,”sheshouted,“Amos.”
Thebigmaninthedistanceturnedhishead.
“Teaintenminutes,”shecalled.
Heacknowledgedthesignalbyraisinghishand.Sheturned,openedthedoorandmotionedTuppencetogoin.
“Perry,mynameis,”shesaidinafriendlyvoice.“AlicePerry.”
“Mine’sBeresford,”saidTuppence.“Mrs.Beresford.”
“Comein,Mrs.Beresford,andhavealookround.”
Tuppencepausedforasecond.Shethought“JustforamomentIfeellikeHanselandGretel.Thewitchasksyouintoherhouse.Perhapsit’sagingerbreadhouse…Itoughttobe.”
ThenshelookedatAlicePerryagainandthoughtthatitwasn’tthegingerbreadhouseofHanselandGretel’switch.Thiswasjustaperfectlyordinarywoman.No,notquiteordinary.Shehadaratherstrangewildfriendlinessabouther.“Shemightbeabletodospells,”thoughtTuppence,“butI’msurethey’dbegoodspells.”Shestoopedherheadalittleandsteppedoverthethresholdintothewitch’shouse.
Itwasratherdarkinside.Thepassagesweresmall.Mrs.Perryledherthroughakitchenandintoasittingroombeyonditwhichwasevidentlythefamilylivingroom.Therewasnothingexcitingaboutthehouse.Itwas,Tuppencethought,probablyalateVictorianadditiontothemainpart.Horizontallyitwasnarrow.Itseemedtoconsistofahorizontalpassage,ratherdark,whichservedastringofrooms.Shethoughttoherselfthatitcertainlywasratheranoddwayofdividingahouse.
“SitdownandI’llbringtheteain,”saidMrs.Perry.
“Letmehelpyou.”
“Oh,don’tworry,Ishan’tbeaminute.It’sallreadyonthetray.”
Awhistlerosefromthekitchen.Thekettlehadevidentlyreachedtheendofitsspanoftranquillity.Mrs.Perrywentoutandreturnedinaminuteortwowiththeteatray,aplateofscones,ajarofjamandthreecupsandsaucers.
“Iexpectyou’redisappointed,nowyou’vegotinside,”saidMrs.Perry.
Itwasashrewdremarkandveryneartothetruth.
“Ohno,”saidTuppence.
“Well,IshouldbeifIwasyou.Becausetheydon’tmatchabit,dothey?Imeanthefrontandthebacksideofthehousedon’tmatch.Butitisacomfortablehousetolivein.Notmanyrooms,nottoomuchlightbutitmakesagreatdifferenceinprice.”
“Whodividedthehouseandwhy?”
“Oh,agoodmanyyearsago,Ibelieve.Isupposewhoeverhaditthoughtitwastoobigortooinconvenient.Onlywantedaweekendplaceorsomethingofthatkind.Sotheykeptthegoodrooms,thediningroomandthedrawingroomandmadeakitchenoutofasmallstudytherewas,andacoupleofbedroomsandbathroomupstairs,andthenwalleditupandletthepartthatwaskitchensandold-fashionedsculleriesandthings,anddiditupabit.”
“Wholivesintheotherpart?Someonewhojustcomesdownforweekends?”
“Nobodylivestherenow,”saidMrs.Perry.“Haveanotherscone,dear.”
“Thankyou,”saidTuppence.
“Atleastnobody’scomedownhereinthelasttwoyears.Idon’tknowevenwhoitbelongstonow.”
“Butwhenyoufirstcamehere?”
“Therewasayoungladyusedtocomedownhere—anactresstheysaidshewas.Atleastthat’swhatweheard.Butweneversawherreally.Justcaughtaglimpsesometimes.SheusedtocomedownlateonaSaturdaynightaftertheshow,Isuppose.SheusedtogoawayontheSundayevenings.”
“Quiteamysterywoman,”saidTuppence,encouragingly.
“Youknowthat’sjustthewayIusedtothinkofher.Iusedtomakeupstoriesaboutherinmyhead.SometimesI’dthinkshewaslikeGretaGarbo.Youknow,thewayshewentaboutalwaysindarkglassesandpulled-downhats.Goodnessnow,I’vegotmypeakhaton.”
Sheremovedthewitch’sheadgearfromherheadandlaughed.
“It’sforaplaywe’rehavingattheparishroomsinSuttonChancellor,”shesaid.“Youknow—asortoffairystoryplayforthechildrenmostly.I’mplayingthewitch,”sheadded.
“Oh,”saidTuppence,slightlytakenaback,thenaddedquickly,“Whatfun.”
“Yes,itisfun,isn’tit?”saidMrs.Perry.“Justrightforthewitch,aren’tI?”Shelaughedandtappedherchin.“Youknow.I’vegotthefaceforit.Hopeitwon’tputideasintopeople’sheads.They’llthinkI’vegottheevileye.”
“Idon’tthinkthey’dthinkthatofyou,”saidTuppence.“I’msureyou’dbeabeneficentwitch.”
“Well,I’mgladyouthinkso,”saidMrs.Perry.“AsIwassaying,thisactress—Ican’trememberhernamenow—MissMarchmentIthinkitwas,butitmighthavebeensomethingelse—youwouldn’tbelievethethingsIusedtomakeupabouther.Really,Isuppose,Ihardlyeversaworspoketoher.SometimesIthinkshewasjustterriblyshyandneurotic.Reporters’dcomedownafterherandthingslikethat,butsheneverwouldseethem.AtothertimesIusedtothink—well,you’llsayI’mfoolish—Iusedtothinkquitesinisterthingsabouther.Youknow,thatshewasafraidofbeingrecognized.Perhapsshewasn’tanactressatall.Perhapsthepolicewerelookingforher.Perhapsshewasacriminalofsomekind.It’sexcitingsometimes,makingthingsupinyourhead.Especiallywhenyoudon’t—well—seemanypeople.”
“Didnobodyevercomedownherewithher?”
“Well,I’mnotsosureaboutthat.Ofcoursethesepartitionwalls,youknow,thattheyputinwhentheyturnedthehouseintotwo,well,they’reprettythinandsometimesyou’dhearvoicesandthingslikethat.Ithinkshedidbringdownsomeoneforweekendsoccasionally.”Shenoddedherhead.“Amanofsomekind.Thatmayhavebeenwhytheywantedsomewherequietlikethis.”
“Amarriedman,”saidTuppence,enteringintothespiritofmakebelieve.
“Yes,itwouldbeamarriedman,wouldn’tit?”saidMrs.Perry.
“Perhapsitwasherhusbandwhocamedownwithher.He’dtakenthisplaceinthecountrybecausehewantedtomurderherandperhapsheburiedherinthegarden.”
“My!”saidMrs.Perry.“Youdohaveanimagination,don’tyou?Ineverthoughtofthatone.”
“Isupposesomeonemusthaveknownallabouther,”saidTuppence.“Imeanhouseagents.Peoplelikethat.”
“Oh,Isupposeso,”saidMrs.Perry.“ButIratherlikednotknowing,ifyouunderstandwhatImean.”
“Ohyes,”saidTuppence,“Idounderstand.”
“It’sgotanatmosphere,youknow,thishouse.Imeanthere’safeelinginit,afeelingthatanythingmighthavehappened.”
“Didn’tshehaveanypeoplecomeintocleanforheroranythinglikethat?”
“Difficulttogetanyonehere.There’snobodynearathand.”
Theoutsidedooropened.Thebigmanwhohadbeendigginginthegardencamein.Hewenttothescullerytapandturnedit,obviouslywashinghishands.Thenhecamethroughintothesittingroom
“Thisismyhusband,”saidMrs.Perry.“Amos.We’vegotavisitor,Amos.ThisisMrs.Beresford.”
“Howdoyoudo?”saidTuppence.
AmosPerrywasatall,shambling-lookingman.HewasbiggerandmorepowerfulthanTuppencehadrealized.Althoughhehadashamblinggaitandwalkedslowly,hewasabigmanofmuscularbuild.Hesaid,
“Pleasedtomeetyou,Mrs.Beresford.”
Hisvoicewaspleasantandhesmiled,butTuppencewonderedforabriefmomentwhetherhewasreallywhatshewouldhavecalled“allthere.”Therewasakindofwonderingsimplicityaboutthelookinhiseyesandshewondered,too,whetherMrs.Perryhadwantedaquietplacetoliveinbecauseofsomementaldisabilityonthepartofherhusband.
“Eversofondofthegarden,heis,”saidMrs.Perry.
Athisentrancetheconversationdimmeddown.Mrs.Perrydidmostofthetalkingbutherpersonalityseemedtohavechanged.Shetalkedwithrathermorenervousnessandwithparticularattentiontoherhusband.Encouraginghim,Tuppencethought,ratherinawaythatamothermightpromptashyboytotalk,todisplaythebestofhimselfbeforeavisitor,andtobealittlenervousthathemightbeinadequate.Whenshe’dfinishedhertea,Tuppencegotup.Shesaid,
“Imustbegoing.Thankyou,Mrs.Perry,verymuchforyourhospitality.”
“You’llseethegardenbeforeyougo.”Mr.Perryrose.“Comeon,I’llshowyou.”
Shewentwithhimoutdoorsandhetookherdowntothecornerbeyondwherehehadbeendigging.
“Nice,themflowers,aren’tthey?”hesaid.“Gotsomeold-fashionedroseshere—Seethisone,stripedredandwhite.”
“‘CommandantBeaurepaire,’”saidTuppence.
“Uscallsit‘YorkandLancaster’here,”saidPerry.“WarsoftheRoses.Smellssweet,don’tit?”
“Smellslovely.”
“Betterthanthemnew-fashionedHybridTeas.”
Inawaythegardenwasratherpathetic.Theweedswereimperfectlycontrolled,buttheflowersthemselveswerecarefullytiedupinanamateurishfashion.
“Brightcolours,”saidMr.Perry.“Ilikebrightcolours.Weoftengetfolktoseeourgarden,”hesaid.“Gladyoucame.”
“Thankyouverymuch,”saidTuppence.“Ithinkyourgardenandyourhouseareveryniceindeed.”
“Yououghttoseet’othersideofit.”
“Isittoletortobesold?Yourwifesaysthere’snobodylivingtherenow.”
“Wedon’tknow.We’venotseenanyoneandthere’snoboardupandnobody’severcometoseeoverit.”
“Itwouldbeanicehouse,Ithink,tolivein.”
“Youwantingahouse?”
“Yes,”saidTuppence,makinguphermindquickly.“Yes,asamatteroffact,wearelookingroundforsomesmallplaceinthecountry,forwhenmyhusbandretires.That’llbenextyearprobably,butweliketolookaboutinplentyoftime.”
“It’squiethereifyoulikequiet.”
“Isuppose,”saidTuppence,“Icouldaskthelocalhouseagents.Isthathowyougotyourhouse?”
“Sawanadvertisementfirstwedidinthepaper.Thenwewenttothehouseagents,yes.”
“Wherewasthat—inSuttonChancellor?That’syourvillage,isn’tit?”
“SuttonChancellor?No.Agents’placeisinMarketBasing.Russell&Thompson,that’sthename.Youcouldgotothemandask.”
“Yes,”saidTuppence,“soIcould.HowfarisMarketBasingfromhere?”
“It’stwomilestoSuttonChancellorandit’ssevenmilestoMarketBasingfromthere.There’saproperroadfromSuttonChancellor,butit’salllaneshereabouts.”
“Isee,”saidTuppence.“Well,goodbye,Mr.Perry,andthankyouverymuchforshowingmeyourgarden.”
“Waitabit.”Hestooped,cutoffanenormouspaeonyandtakingTuppencebythelapelofhercoat,heinsertedthisthroughthebuttonholeinit.“There,”hesaid,“thereyouare.Lookspretty,itdoes.”
ForamomentTuppencefeltasuddenfeelingofpanic.Thislarge,shambling,good-naturedmansuddenlyfrightenedher.Hewaslookingdownather,smiling.Smilingratherwildly,almostleering.“Prettyitlooksonyou,”hesaidagain.“Pretty.”
Tuppencethought“I’mgladI’mnotayounggirl…Idon’tthinkI’dlikehimputtingafloweronmethen.”Shesaidgoodbyeagainandhurriedaway.
ThehousedoorwasopenandTuppencewentintosaygoodbyetoMrs.Perry.Mrs.Perrywasinthekitchen,washinguptheteathingsandTuppencealmostautomaticallypulledateaclothofftherackandstarteddrying.
“Thankyousomuch,”shesaid,“bothyouandyourhusband.You’vebeensokindandhospitabletome—What’sthat?”
Fromthewallofthekitchen,orratherbehindthewallwhereanold-fashionedrangehadoncestood,therecamealoudscreamingandsquawkingandascratchingnoisetoo.
“That’llbeajackdaw,”saidMrs.Perry,“droppeddownthechimneyintheotherhouse.Theydothistimeoftheyear.Onecamedownourchimneylastweek.Theymakenestsinthechimneys,youknow.”
“What—intheotherhouse?”
“Yes,thereitisagain.”
Againthesquawkingandcryingofadistressedbirdcametotheirears.Mrs.Perrysaid,“There’snoonetobother,yousee,intheemptyhouse.Thechimneysoughttobesweptandallthat.”
Thesquawkingscratchingnoiseswenton
“Poorbird,”saidTuppence.
“Iknow.Itwon’tbeabletogetupagain.”
“Youmeanit’lljustdiethere?”
“Ohyes.OnecamedownourchimneyasIsay.Twoofthem,actually.Onewasayoungbird.Itwasallright,weputitoutanditflewaway.Theotheronewasdead.”
Thefrenziedscufflingandsqueakingwenton.
“Oh,”saidTuppence,“Iwishwecouldgetatit.”
Mr.Perrycameinthroughthedoor.“Anythingthematter?”hesaid,lookingfromonetotheother.
“There’sabird,Amos.Itmustbeinthedrawing-roomchimneynextdoor.Hearit?”
“Eh,it’scomedownfromthejackdaws’nest.”
“Iwishwecouldgetinthere,”saidMrs.Perry.
“Ah,youcan’tdoanything.They’lldiefromthefright,ifnothingelse.”
“Thenit’llsmell,”saidMrs.Perry.
“Youwon’tsmellanythinginhere.You’resofthearted,”hewenton,lookingfromonetotheother,“likeallfemales.We’llgetitifyoulike.”
“Why,isoneofthewindowsopen?”
“Wecangetinthroughthedoor.”
“Whatdoor?”
“Outsidehereintheyard.Thekey’shangingupamongthose.”
Hewentoutsideandalongtotheend,openingasmalldoorthere.Itwasakindofpottingshedreally,butadoorfromitledintotheotherhouseandnearthedoorofthepottingshedweresixorsevenrustykeyshangingonanail.
“Thisonefits,”saidMr.Perry.
Hetookdownthekeyandputitinthedoor,andafterexertingagooddealofcajoleryandforce,thekeyturnedrustilyinthelock.
“Iwentinoncebefore,”hesaid,“whenIheardwaterrunning.Somebody’dforgottentoturnthewateroffproperly.”
Hewentinandthetwowomenfollowedhim.Thedoorledintoasmallroomwhichstillcontainedvariousflowervasesonashelfandasinkwithatap.
“Aflowerroom,Ishouldn’twonder,”hesaid.“Wherepeopleusedtodotheflowers.See?Alotofthevaseslefthere.”
Therewasadooroutoftheflowerroom.Thiswasnotevenlocked.Heopeneditandtheywentthrough.Itwaslike,Tuppencethought,goingthroughintoanotherworld.Thepassagewayoutsidewascoveredwithapilecarpet.Alittlewayalongtherewasadoorhalfopenandfromtherethesoundsofabirdindistresswerecoming.PerrypushedthedooropenandhiswifeandTuppencewentin.
Thewindowswereshutteredbutonesideofashutterwashanginglooseandlightcamein.Althoughitwasdim,therewasafadedbutbeautifulcarpetonthefloor,adeepsagegreenincolour.Therewasabookshelfagainstthewallbutnochairsortables.Thefurniturehadbeenremovednodoubt,thecurtainsandcarpetshadbeenleftasfittingstobepassedontothenexttenant.
Mrs.Perrywenttowardsthefireplace.Abirdlayinthegratescufflingandutteringloudsquawkingsoundsofdistress.Shestooped,pickeditup,andsaid,
“Openthewindowifyoucan,Amos.”
Amoswentover,pulledtheshutteraside,unfastenedtheothersideofitandthenpushedatthelatchofthewindow.Heraisedthelowersashwhichcamegratingly.AssoonasitwasopenMrs.Perryleanedoutandreleasedthejackdaw.Itfloppedontothelawn,hoppedafewpaces.
“Betterkillit,”saidPerry.“It’sdamaged.”
“Leaveitabit,”saidhiswife.“Youneverknow.Theyrecoververyquickly,birds.It’sfrightthatmakesthemsoparalysedlooking.”
Sureenough,afewmomentslaterthejackdaw,withafinalstruggle,asquawk,aflappingofwingsflewoff.
“Ionlyhope,”saidAlicePerry,“thatitdoesn’tcomedownthatchimneyagain.Contrarythings,birds.Don’tknowwhat’sgoodforthem.Getintoaroom,theycannevergetoutofitbythemselves.Oh,”sheadded,“whatamess.”
She,TuppenceandMr.Perryallstaredatthegrate.Fromthechimneyhadcomedownamassofsoot,ofoddrubbleandofbrokenbricks.Evidentlyithadbeeninabadstateofrepairforsometime.
“Somebodyoughttocomeandlivehere,”saidMrs.Perry,lookingroundher.
“Somebodyoughttolookafterit,”Tuppenceagreedwithher.“Somebuilderoughttolookatitordosomethingaboutitorthewholehousewillcomedownsoon.”
“Probablywaterhasbeencomingthroughtheroofinthetoprooms.Yes,lookattheceilingupthere,it’scomethroughthere.”
“Oh,whatashame,”saidTuppence,“toruinabeautifulhouse—itreallyisabeautifulroom,isn’tit.”
SheandMrs.Perrylookedtogetherrounditappreciatively.Builtin1790ithadallthegraciousnessofahouseofthatperiod.Ithadhadoriginallyapatternofwillowleavesonthediscolouredpaper.
“It’saruinnow,”saidMr.Perry.
Tuppencepokedthedebrisinthegrate.
“Oneoughttosweepitup,”saidMrs.Perry.
“Nowwhatdoyouwanttobotheryourselfwithahousethatdoesn’tbelongtoyou?”saidherhusband.“Leaveitalone,woman.It’llbeinjustasbadastatetomorrowmorning.”
Tuppencestirredthebricksasidewithatoe.
“Ooh,”shesaidwithanexclamationofdisgust.
Thereweretwodeadbirdslyinginthefireplace.Bythelookofthemtheyhadbeendeadforsometime.
“That’sthenestthatcamedownagoodfewweeksago.It’sawonderitdoesn’tsmellmorethanitdoes,”saidPerry.
“What’sthisthing?”saidTuppence.
Shepokedwithhertoeatsomethinglyinghalfhiddenintherubble.Thenshebentandpickeditup.
“Don’tyoutouchadeadbird,”saidMrs.Perry.
“It’snotabird,”saidTuppence.“Somethingelsemusthavecomedownthechimney.WellInever,”sheadded,staringatit.“It’sadoll.It’sachild’sdoll.”
Theylookeddownatit.Ragged,torn,itsclothesinrags,itsheadlollingfromtheshoulders,ithadoriginallybeenachild’sdoll.Oneglasseyedroppedout.Tuppencestoodholdingit.
“Iwonder,”shesaid,“Iwonderhowachild’sdollevergotupachimney.Extraordinary.”
Eight
SUTTONCHANCELLOR
Afterleavingthecanalhouse,TuppencedroveslowlyonalongthenarrowwindingroadwhichshehadbeenassuredwouldleadhertothevillageofSuttonChancellor.Itwasanisolatedroad.Therewerenohousestobeseenfromit—onlyfieldgatesfromwhichmuddytracksledinwards.Therewaslittletraffic—onetractorcamealong,andonelorryproudlyannouncingthatitcarriedMother’sDelightandthepictureofanenormousandunnatural-lookingloaf.Thechurchsteepleshehadnoticedinthedistanceseemedtohavedisappearedentirely—butitfinallyreappearedquitenearathandafterthelanehadbentsuddenlyandsharplyroundabeltoftrees.Tuppenceglancedatthespeedometerandsawshehadcometwomilessincethecanalhouse.
Itwasanattractiveoldchurchstandinginasizeablechurchyardwithaloneyewtreestandingbythechurchdoor.
Tuppenceleftthecaroutsidethelychgate,passedthroughit,andstoodforafewmomentssurveyingthechurchandthechurchyardroundit.ThenshewenttothechurchdoorwithitsroundedNormanarchandliftedtheheavyhandle.Itwasunlockedandshewentinside.
Theinsidewasunattractive.Thechurchwasanoldone,undoubtedly,butithadhadazealouswashandbrushupinVictoriantimes.Itspitchpinepewsanditsflaringredandblueglasswindowshadruinedanyantiquecharmithadoncepossessed.Amiddle-agedwomaninatweedcoatandskirtwasarrangingflowersinbrassvasesroundthepulpit—shehadalreadyfinishedthealtar.ShelookedroundatTuppencewithasharplyinquiringglance.Tuppencewanderedupanaislelookingatmemorialtabletsonthewalls.AfamilycalledWarrenderseemedtobemostfullyrepresentedinearlyyears.AllofThePriory,SuttonChancellor.CaptainWarrender,MajorWarrender,SarahElisabethWarrender,dearlybelovedwifeofGeorgeWarrender.AnewertabletrecordedthedeathofJuliaStarke(anotherbelovedwife)ofPhilipStarke,alsoofThePriory,SuttonChancellor—soitwouldseemtheWarrendershaddiedout.Noneofthemwereparticularlysuggestiveorinteresting.Tuppencepassedoutofthechurchagainandwalkedrounditontheoutside.Theoutside,Tuppencethought,wasmuchmoreattractivethantheinside.“EarlyPerp.andDec.,”saidTuppencetoherself,havingbeenbroughtuponfamiliartermswithecclesiasticalarchitecture.ShewasnotparticularlyfondofearlyPerp.herself.
Itwasafair-sizedchurchandshethoughtthatthevillageofSuttonChancellormustoncehavebeenarathermoreimportantcentreofrurallifethanitwasnow.Sheleftthecarwhereitwasandwalkedontothevillage.Ithadavillageshopandapostofficeandaboutadozensmallhousesorcottages.Oneortwoofthemwerethatchedbuttheotherswereratherplainandunattractive.Thereweresixcouncilhousesattheendofthevillagestreetlookingslightlyself-conscious.Abrassplateonadoorannounced“ArthurThomas,ChimneySweep.”
Tuppencewonderedifanyresponsiblehouseagentswerelikelytoengagehisservicesforthehousebythecanalwhichcertainlyneededthem.Howsillyshehadbeen,shethought,nottohaveaskedthenameofthehouse.
Shewalkedbackslowlytowardsthechurch,andhercar,pausingtoexaminethechurchyardmoreclosely.Shelikedthechurchyard.Therewereveryfewnewburialsinit.MostofthestonescommemoratedVictorianburials,andearlierones—half-defacedbylichenandtime.Theoldstoneswereattractive.Someofthemwereuprightslabswithcherubsonthetops,withwreathsroundthem.Shewanderedabout,lookingattheinscriptions.Warrendersagain.MaryWarrender,aged47,AliceWarrender,aged33,ColonelJohnWarrenderkilledinAfghanistan.VariousinfantWarrenders—deeplyregretted—andeloquentversesofpioushopes.ShewonderedifanyWarrenderslivedherestill.They’dleftoffbeingburiedhereapparently.Shecouldn’tfindanytombstoneslaterthan1843.Roundingthebigyewtreeshecameuponanelderlyclergymanwhowasstoopingoverarowofoldtombstonesnearawallbehindthechurch.HestraightenedupandturnedroundasTuppenceapproached.
“Goodafternoon,”hesaidpleasantly.
“Goodafternoon,”saidTuppence,andadded,“I’vebeenlookingatthechurch.”
“RuinedbyVictorianrenovation,”saidtheclergyman.
Hehadapleasantvoiceandanicesmile.Helookedaboutseventy,butTuppencepresumedhewasnotquiteasfaradvancedinageasthat,thoughhewascertainlyrheumaticandratherunsteadyonhislegs.
“ToomuchmoneyaboutinVictoriantimes,”hesaidsadly.“Toomanyironmasters.Theywerepious,buthad,unfortunately,nosenseoftheartistic.Notaste.Didyouseetheeastwindow?”heshuddered.
“Yes,”saidTuppence.“Dreadful,”shesaid.
“Icouldn’tagreewithyoumore.I’mthevicar,”headded,ratherunnecessarily.
“Ithoughtyoumustbe,”saidTuppencepolitely.“Haveyoubeenherelong?”sheadded.
“Tenyears,mydear,”hesaid.“It’saniceparish.Nicepeople,whatthereareofthem.I’vebeenveryhappyhere.Theydon’tlikemysermonsverymuch,”headdedsadly.“IdothebestIcan,butofcourseIcan’tpretendtobereallymodern.Sitdown,”headdedhospitably,wavingtoanearbytombstone.
Tuppencesatdowngratefullyandthevicartookaseatonanotheronenearby.
“Ican’tstandverylong,”hesaid,apologetically.Headded,“CanIdoanythingforyouorareyoujustpassingby?”
“Well,I’mreallyjustpassingby,”saidTuppence.“IthoughtI’djustlookatthechurch.I’dratherlostmyselfinacarwanderingaroundthelanes.”
“Yes,yes.Verydifficulttofindone’swayaboutroundhere.Alotofsignpostsarebroken,youknow,andthecouncildon’trepairthemastheyshould.”Headded,“Idon’tknowthatitmattersverymuch.Peoplewhodrivedowntheselanesaren’tusuallytryingtogetanywhereinparticular.Peoplewhoarekeeptothemainroads.Dreadful,”headdedagain.“EspeciallythenewMotorway.Atleast,Ithinkso.Thenoiseandthespeedandtherecklessdriving.Ohwell!paynoattentiontome.I’macrustyoldfellow.You’dneverguesswhatI’mdoinghere,”hewenton.
“Isawyouwereexaminingsomeofthegravestones,”saidTuppence.“Hastherebeenanyvandalism?Haveteenagersbeenbreakingbitsoffthem?”
“No.One’sminddoesturnthatwaynowadayswhatwithsomanytelephoneboxeswreckedandallthoseotherthingsthattheseyoungvandalsdo.Poorchildren,theydon’tknowanybetter,Isuppose.Can’tthinkofanythingmoreamusingtodothantosmashthings.Sad,isn’tit?Verysad.No,”hesaid,“there’sbeennodamageofthatkindhere.Theboysroundhereareanicelotonthewhole.No,I’mjustlookingforachild’sgrave.”
Tuppencestirredonhertombstone.“Achild’sgrave?”shesaid.
“Yes.Somebodywrotetome.AMajorWaters,heaskedifbyanypossibilityachildhadbeenburiedhere.Ilookeditupintheparishregister,ofcourse,buttherewasnorecordofanysuchname.Allthesame,Icameouthereandlookedroundthestones.Ithought,youknow,thatperhapswhoeverwrotemighthavegotholdofsomewrongname,orthattherehadbeenamistake.”
“WhatwastheChristianname?”askedTuppence.
“Hedidn’tknow.PerhapsJuliaafterthemother.”
“Howoldwasthechild?”
“Againhewasn’tsure—Rathervague,thewholething.Ithinkmyselfthatthemanmusthavegotholdofthewrongvillagealtogether.IneverrememberaWaterslivinghereorhavingheardofone.”
“WhatabouttheWarrenders?”askedTuppence,hermindgoingbacktothenamesinthechurch.“Thechurchseemsfulloftabletstothemandtheirnamesareonlotsofgravestonesouthere.”
“Ah,thatfamily’sdiedoutbynow.Theyhadafineproperty,anoldfourteenth-centuryPriory.Itwasburntdown—oh,nearlyahundredyearsagonow,soIsupposeanyWarrenderstherewereleft,wentawayanddidn’tcomeback.Anewhousewasbuiltonthesite,byarichVictoriancalledStarke.Averyuglyhousebutcomfortable,theysay.Verycomfortable.Bathrooms,youknow,andallthat.Isupposethatsortofthingisimportant.”
“Itseemsaveryoddthing,”saidTuppence,“thatsomeoneshouldwriteandaskyouaboutachild’sgrave.Somebody—arelation?”
“Thefatherofthechild,”saidthevicar.“Oneofthesewartragedies,Iimagine.Amarriagethatbrokeupwhenthehusbandwasonserviceabroad.Theyoungwiferanawaywithanothermanwhilethehusbandwasservingabroad.Therewasachild,achildhe’dneverseen.She’dbegrownupbynow,Isuppose,ifshewerealive.Itmustbetwentyyearsagoormore.”
“Isn’titalongtimeaftertobelookingforher?”
“Apparentlyheonlyheardtherewasachildquiterecently.Theinformationcametohimbypurechance.Curiousstory,thewholething.”
“Whatmadehimthinkthatthechildhadbeenburiedhere?”
“IgathersomebodywhohadcomeacrosshiswifeinwartimehadtoldhimthathiswifehadsaidshewaslivingatSuttonChancellor.Ithappens,youknow.Youmeetsomeone,afriendoracquaintanceyouhaven’tseenforyears,andtheysometimescangiveyounewsfromthepastthatyouwouldn’tgetinanyotherway.Butshe’scertainlynotlivingherenow.Nobodyofthatnamehaslivedhere—notsinceI’vebeenhere.OrintheneighbourhoodasfarasIknow.Ofcourse,themothermighthavebeengoingbyanothername.However,Igatherthefatherisemployingsolicitorsandinquiryagentsandallthatsortofthing,andtheywillprobablybeabletogetresultsintheend.Itwilltaketime—”
“Wasityourpoorchild?”murmuredTuppence.
“Ibegyourpardon,mydear?”
“Nothing,”saidTuppence.“Somethingsomebodysaidtometheotherday.‘Wasityourpoorchild?’It’sratherastartlingthingtohearsuddenly.ButIdon’treallythinktheoldladywhosaiditknewwhatshewastalkingabout.”
“Iknow.Iknow.I’moftenthesame.IsaythingsandIdon’treallyknowwhatImeanbythem.Mostvexing.”
“Iexpectyouknoweverythingaboutthepeoplewholiveherenow?”saidTuppence.
“Well,therecertainlyaren’tverymanytoknow.Yes.Why?Istheresomeoneyouwantedtoknowabout?”
“IwonderediftherehadeverbeenaMrs.Lancasterlivinghere.”
“Lancaster?No,Idon’tthinkIrecollectthatname.”
“Andthere’sahouse—Iwasdrivingtodayratheraimlessly—notmindingparticularlywhereIwent,justfollowinglanes—”
“Iknow.Verynice,thelanesroundhere.Andyoucanfindquiterarespecimens.Botanical,Imean.Inthehedgeshere.Nobodyeverpicksflowersinthesehedges.Wenevergetanytouristsroundhereorthatsortofthing.Yes,I’vefoundsomeveryrarespecimenssometimes.DustyCranesbell,forinstance—”
“Therewasahousebyacanal,”saidTuppence,refusingtobesidetrackedintobotany.“Nearalittlehumpbackedbridge.Itwasabouttwomilesfromhere.Iwonderedwhatitsnamewas.”
“Letmesee.Canal—humpbackedbridge.Well…thereareseveralhouseslikethat.There’sMerricotFarm.”
“Itwasn’tafarm.”
“Ah,now,IexpectitwasthePerrys’house—AmosandAlicePerry.”
“That’sright,”saidTuppence.“AMr.andMrs.Perry.”
“She’sastriking-lookingwoman,isn’tshe?Interesting,Ialwaysthink.Veryinteresting.Medievalface,didn’tyouthinkso?She’sgoingtoplaythewitchinourplaywe’regettingup.Theschoolchildren,youknow.Shelooksratherlikeawitch,doesn’tshe?”
“Yes,”saidTuppence.“Afriendlywitch.”
“Asyousay,mydear,absolutelyrightly.Yes,afriendlywitch.”
“Buthe—”
“Yes,poorfellow,”saidthevicar.“Notcompletelycomposmentis—butnoharminhim.”
“Theywereverynice.Theyaskedmeinforacupoftea,”saidTuppence.“ButwhatIwantedtoknowwasthenameofthehouse.Iforgottoaskthem.They’reonlylivinginhalfofit,aren’tthey?”
“Yes,yes.Inwhatusedtobetheoldkitchenquarters.Theycallit‘Waterside,’Ithink,thoughIbelievetheancientnameforitwas‘Watermead.’Apleasantername,Ithink.”
“Whodoestheotherpartofthehousebelongto?”
“Well,thewholehouseusedtobelongoriginallytotheBradleys.Thatwasagoodmanyyearsago.Yes,thirtyorfortyatleast,Ishouldthink.Andthenitwassold,andthensoldagainandthenitremainedemptyforalongtime.WhenIcamehereitwasjustbeingusedasakindofweekendplace.Bysomeactress—MissMargrave,Ibelieve.Shewasnothereverymuch.Justusedtocomedownfromtimetotime.Ineverknewher.Shenevercametochurch.Isawherinthedistancesometimes.Abeautifulcreature.Averybeautifulcreature.”
“Whodoesitactuallybelongtonow?”Tuppencepersisted.
“I’venoidea.Possiblyitstillbelongstoher.ThepartthePerrysliveinisonlyrentedtothem.”
“Irecognizedit,youknow,”saidTuppence,“assoonasIsawit,becauseI’vegotapictureofit.”
“Ohreally?ThatmusthavebeenoneofBoscombe’s,orwashisnameBoscobel—Ican’tremembernow.Somenamelikethat.HewasaCornishman,fairlywell-knownartist,Ibelieve.Iratherimaginehe’sdeadnow.Yes,heusedtocomedownherefairlyoften.Heusedtosketchallroundthispartoftheworld.Hedidsomeoilshere,too.Veryattractivelandscapes,someofthem.”
“Thisparticularpicture,”saidTuppence,“wasgiventoanoldauntofminewhodiedaboutamonthago.ItwasgiventoherbyaMrs.Lancaster.That’swhyIaskedifyouknewthename.”
Butthevicarshookhisheadoncemore.
“Lancaster?Lancaster.No,Idon’tseemtorememberthename.Ah!buthere’sthepersonyoumustask.OurdearMissBligh.Veryactive,MissBlighis.Sheknowsallabouttheparish.Sherunseverything.TheWomen’sInstitute,theBoyScoutsandtheGuides—everything.Youaskher.She’sveryactive,veryactiveindeed.”
Thevicarsighed.TheactivityofMissBlighseemedtoworryhim.“NellieBligh,theycallherinthevillage.Theboyssingitafterhersometimes.NellieBligh,NellieBligh.It’snotherpropername.That’ssomethingmorelikeGertrudeorGeraldine.”
MissBligh,whowasthetweed-cladwomanTuppencehadseeninthechurch,wasapproachingthematarapidtrot,stillholdingasmallwateringcan.SheeyedTuppencewithdeepcuriosityassheapproached,increasingherpaceandstartingaconversationbeforeshereachedthem.
“Finishedmyjob,”sheexclaimedmerrily.“Hadabitofarushtoday.Ohyes,hadabitofarush.Ofcourse,asyouknow,Vicar,Iusuallydothechurchinthemorning.Buttodaywehadtheemergencymeetingintheparishroomsandreallyyouwouldn’tbelievethetimeittook!Somuchargument,youknow.Ireallythinksometimespeopleobjecttothingsjustforthefunofdoingso.Mrs.Partingtonwasparticularlyirritating.Wantingeverythingfullydiscussed,youknow,andwonderingwhetherwe’dgotenoughdifferentpricesfromdifferentfirms.Imean,thewholethingissuchasmallcostanyway,thatreallyafewshillingshereortherecan’tmakemuchdifference.AndBurkenheadshavealwaysbeenmostreliable.Idon’tthinkreally,Vicar,youknow,thatyououghttositonthattombstone.”
“Irreverent,perhaps?”suggestedthevicar.
“Ohno,no,ofcourseIdidn’tmeanthatatall,Vicar.Imeantthestone,youknow,thedampdoescomethroughandwithyourrheumatism—”HereyesslidsidewaystoTuppencequestioningly.
“LetmeintroduceyoutoMissBligh,”saidthevicar.“Thisis—thisis—”hehesitated.
“Mrs.Beresford,”saidTuppence.
“Ahyes,”saidMissBligh.“Isawyouinthechurch,didn’tI,justnow,lookingroundit.Iwouldhavecomeandspokentoyou,calledyourattentiontooneortwointerestingpoints,butIwasinsuchahurrytofinishmyjob.”
“Ioughttohavecomeandhelpedyou,”saidTuppence,inhersweetestvoice.“Butitwouldn’thavebeenmuchuse,wouldit,becauseIcouldseeyouknewsoexactlywhereeveryfloweroughttogo.”
“Wellnow,it’sveryniceofyoutosayso,butit’squitetrue.I’vedonetheflowersinthechurchfor—oh,Idon’tknowhowmanyyearsitis.Welettheschoolchildrenarrangetheirownparticularpotsofwildflowersforfestivals,thoughofcoursetheyhaven’ttheleastidea,poorlittlethings.Idothinkalittleinstruction,butMrs.Peakewillneverhaveanyinstruction.She’ssoparticular.Shesaysitspoilstheirinitiative.Areyoustayingdownhere?”sheaskedTuppence.
“IwasgoingontoMarketBasing,”saidTuppence.“Perhapsyoucantellmeanicequiethoteltostaythere?”
“Well,Iexpectyou’llfinditalittledisappointing.It’sjustamarkettown,youknow.Itdoesn’tcateratallforthemotoringtrade.TheBlueDragonisatwo-starbutreallyIdon’tthinkthesestarsmeananythingatallsometimes.Ithinkyou’dfindTheLambbetter.Quieter,youknow.Areyoustayingthereforlong?”
“Ohno,”saidTuppence,“justadayortwowhileI’mlookingroundtheneighbourhood.”
“Notverymuchtosee,I’mafraid.Nointerestingantiquitiesoranythinglikethat.We’repurelyaruralandagriculturaldistrict,”saidthevicar.“Butpeaceful,youknow,verypeaceful.AsItoldyou,someinterestingwildflowers.”
“Ahyes,”saidTuppence,“I’veheardthatandI’manxioustocollectafewspecimensintheintervalsofdoingalittlemildhousehunting,”sheadded
“Ohdear,howinteresting,”saidMissBligh.“Areyouthinkingofsettlinginthisneighbourhood?”
“Well,myhusbandandIhaven’tdecidedverydefinitelyonanyoneneighbourhoodinparticular,”saidTuppence.“Andwe’reinnohurry.Hewon’tberetiringforanothereighteenmonths.Butit’salwaysaswell,Ithink,tolookabout.Personally,whatIprefertodoistostayinoneneighbourhoodforfourorfivedays,getalistoflikelysmallpropertiesanddriveabouttoseethem.ComingdownforonedayfromLondontoseeoneparticularhouseisverytiring,Ifind.”
“Ohyes,you’vegotyourcarhere,haveyou?”
“Yes,”saidTuppence.“IshallhavetogotoahouseagentinMarketBasingtomorrowmorning.There’snowhere,Isuppose,tostayinthevillagehere,isthere?”
“Ofcourse,there’sMrs.Copleigh,”saidMissBligh.“Shetakespeopleinthesummer,youknow.Summervisitors.She’sbeautifullyclean.Allherroomsare.Ofcourse,sheonlydoesbedandbreakfastandperhapsalightmealintheevening.ButIdon’tthinkshetakesanyoneinmuchbeforeAugustorJulyattheearliest.”
“PerhapsIcouldgoandseeherandfindout,”saidTuppence.
“She’saveryworthywoman,”saidthevicar.“Hertonguewagsagooddeal,”headded.“Sheneverstopstalking,notforonesingleminute.”
“Alotofgossipandchatteringisalwaysgoingoninthesesmallvillages,”saidMissBligh.“IthinkitwouldbeaverygoodideaifIhelpedMrs.Beresford.IcouldtakeheralongtoMrs.Copleighandjustseewhatchancesthereare.”
“Thatwouldbeverykindofyou,”saidTuppence.
“Thenwe’llbeoff,”saidMissBlighbriskly.“Goodbye,Vicar.Stillonyourquest?Asadtaskandsounlikelytomeetwithsuccess.Ireallythinkitwasamostunreasonablerequesttomake.”
Tuppencesaidgoodbyetothevicarandsaidshewouldbegladtohelphimifshecould.
“Icouldeasilyspendanhourortwolookingatthevariousgravestones.I’vegotverygoodeyesightformyage.It’sjustthenameWatersyouarelookingfor?”
“Notreally,”saidthevicar.“It’stheagethatmatters,Ithink.Achildofperhapsseven,itwouldbe.Agirl.MajorWatersthinksthathiswifemighthavechangedhernameandthatprobablythechildmightbeknownbythenameshehadtaken.Andashedoesn’tknowwhatthatnameis,itmakesitallverydifficult.”
“Thewholething’simpossible,sofarasIcansee,”saidMissBligh.“Yououghtnevertohavesaidyouwoulddosuchathing,Vicar.It’smonstrous,suggestinganythingofthekind.”
“Thepoorfellowseemsveryupset,”saidthevicar.“Asadhistoryaltogether,sofarasIcanmakeout.ButImustn’tkeepyou.”
TuppencethoughttoherselfasshewasshepherdedbyMissBlighthatnomatterwhatthereputationofMrs.Copleighfortalking,shecouldhardlytalkmorethanMissBlighdid.Astreamofpronouncementsbothrapidanddictatorialpouredfromherlips.
Mrs.Copleigh’scottageprovedtobeapleasantandroomyonesetbackfromthevillagestreetwithaneatgardenofflowersinfront,awhiteneddoorstepandabrasshandlewellpolished.Mrs.CopleighherselfseemedtoTuppencelikeacharacterstraightoutofthepagesofDickens.Shewasverysmallandveryround,sothatshecamerollingtowardsyouratherlikearubberball.Shehadbrighttwinklingeyes,blondehairrolledupinsausagecurlsonherheadandanairoftremendousvigour.Afterdisplayingalittledoubttobeginwith—“Well,Idon’tusually,youknow.No.MyhusbandandIsay‘summervisitors,that’sdifferent.’Everyonedoesthatiftheycannowadays.Andhaveto,I’msure.Butnotthistimeofyearsomuch,wedon’t.NotuntilJuly.However,ifit’sjustforafewdaysandtheladywouldn’tmindthingsbeingabitrough,perhaps—”
Tuppencesaidshedidn’tmindthingsbeingroughandMrs.Copleigh,havingsurveyedherwithcloseattention,whilstnotstoppingherflowofconversation,saidperhapstheladywouldliketocomeupandseetheroom,andthenthingsmightbearranged.
AtthatpointMissBlightoreherselfawaywithsomeregretbecauseshehadnotsofarbeenabletoextractalltheinformationshewantedfromTuppence,astowhereshecamefrom,whatherhusbanddid,howoldshewas,ifshehadanychildrenandothermattersofinterest.Butitappearedthatshehadameetingatherhouseoverwhichshewasgoingtopresideandwasterrifiedattheriskthatsomeoneelsemightseizethatcovetedpost.
“You’llbequiteallrightwithMrs.Copleigh,”sheassuredTuppence,“she’lllookafteryou,I’msure.Nowwhataboutyourcar?”
“Oh,I’llfetchitpresently,”saidTuppence.“Mrs.CopleighwilltellmewhereIhadbetterputit.Icanleaveitoutsideherereallybecauseitisn’taverynarrowstreet,isit?”
“Oh,myhusbandcandobetterthanthatforyou,”saidMrs.Copleigh.“He’llputitinthefieldforyou.Justroundthesidelanehere,andit’llbequiteallright,there.There’sashedhecandriveitinto.”
ThingswerearrangedamicablyonthatbasisandMissBlighhurriedawaytoherappointment.Thequestionofaneveningmealwasnextraised.Tuppenceaskediftherewasapubinthevillage.
“Oh,wehavenothingasaladycouldgoto,”saidMrs.Copleigh,“butifyou’dbesatisfiedwithacoupleofeggsandasliceofhamandmaybesomebreadandhomemadejam—”
Tuppencesaidthatwouldbesplendid.Herroomwassmallbutcheerfulandpleasantwitharosebudwallpaperandacomfortable-lookingbedandageneralairofspotlesscleanliness.
“Yes,it’sanicewallpaper,miss,”saidMrs.Copleigh,whoseemeddeterminedtoaccordTuppencesinglestatus.“Choseitwedidsothatanynewlymarriedcoupleshouldcomehereonhoneymoon.Romantic,ifyouknowwhatImean.”
Tuppenceagreedthatromancewasaverydesirablething.
“Theyhaven’tgotsomuchtospendnowadays,newlymarrieds.Notwhattheyusedto.Mostofthemyouseearesavingforahouseoraremakingdownpaymentsalready.Orthey’vegottobuysomefurnitureonthehirepurchaseanditdoesn’tleaveanythingoverforhavingaposhhoneymoonoranythingofthatkind.They’recareful,youknow,mostoftheyoungfolk.Theydon’tgobashingalltheirmoney.”
Sheclattereddownstairsagaintalkingbrisklyasshewent.Tuppencelaydownonthebedtohavehalfanhour’ssleepafterasomewhattiringday.Shehad,however,greathopesofMrs.Copleigh,andfeltthatoncethoroughlyrestedherself,shewouldbeabletoleadtheconversationtothemostfruitfulsubjectspossible.Shewouldhear,shewassure,allaboutthehousebythebridge,whohadlivedthere,whohadbeenofevilorgoodreputeintheneighbourhood,whatscandalstherewereandothersuchlikelytopics.ShewasmoreconvincedofthisthaneverwhenshehadbeenintroducedtoMr.Copleigh,amanwhobarelyopenedhismouth.Hisconversationwasmostlymadeupofamiablegrunts,usuallysignifyinganaffirmative.Sometimes,inmoremutedtones,adisagreement.
HewascontentsofarasTuppencecouldsee,tolethiswifetalk.Hehimselfmoreorlessabstractedhisattention,partofthetimebusywithhisplansforthenextdaywhichappearedtobemarketday.
AsfarasTuppencewasconcernednothingcouldhaveturnedoutbetter.Itcouldhavebeendistinguishedbyaslogan—“Youwantinformation,wehaveit.”Mrs.Copleighwasasgoodasawirelesssetoratelevision.Youhadonlytoturnthebuttonandwordspouredoutaccompaniedbygesturesandlotsoffacialexpression.Notonlywasherfigurelikeachild’srubberball,herfacemightalsohavebeenmadeofindiarubber.ThevariouspeopleshewastalkingaboutalmostcamealiveincaricaturebeforeTuppence’seyes.
Tuppenceatebaconandeggsandhadslicesofthickbreadandbutterandpraisedtheblackberryjelly,homemade,herfavouritekind,shetruthfullyannounced,anddidherbesttoabsorbthefloodofinformationsothatshecouldwritenotesdowninhernotebooklater.Awholepanoramaofthepastinthiscountrydistrictseemedtobespreadoutbeforeher.
Therewasnochronologicalsequencewhichoccasionallymadethingsdifficult.Mrs.Copleighjumpedfromfifteenyearsagototwoyearsagotolastmonth,andthenbacktosomewhereinthetwenties.Allthiswouldwantalotofsortingout.AndTuppencewonderedwhetherintheendshewouldgetanything.
Thefirstbuttonshehadpressedhadnotgivenheranyresult.ThatwasamentionofMrs.Lancaster.
“Ithinkshecamefromhereabouts,”saidTuppence,allowingagooddealofvaguenesstoappearinhervoice.“Shehadapicture—averynicepicturedonebyanartistwhoIbelievewasknowndownhere.”
“Whodidyousaynow?”
“AMrs.Lancaster.”
“No,Idon’trememberanyLancastersintheseparts.Lancaster.Lancaster.Agentlemanhadacaraccident,Iremember.No,it’sthecarI’mthinkingof.ALancasterthatwas.NoMrs.Lancaster.Itwouldn’tbeMissBolton,wouldit?She’dbeaboutseventynowIthink.ShemighthavemarriedaMr.Lancaster.ShewentawayandtravelledabroadandIdohearshemarriedsomeone.”
“ThepictureshegavemyauntwasbyaMr.Boscobel—Ithinkthenamewas,”saidTuppence.“Whatalovelyjelly.”
“Idon’tputnoappleiniteither,likemostpeopledo.Makesitjellbetter,theysay,butittakesalltheflavourout.”
“Yes,”saidTuppence.“Iquiteagreewithyou.Itdoes.”
“Whodidyousaynow?ItbeganwithaBbutIdidn’tquitecatchit.”
“Boscobel,Ithink.”
“Oh,IrememberMr.Boscowanwell.Let’sseenow.Thatmusthavebeen—fifteenyearsagoitwasatleastthathecamedownhere.Hecameseveralyearsrunning,hedid.Helikedtheplace.Actuallyrentedacottage.OneofFarmerHart’scottagesitwas,thathekeptforhislabourer.Buttheybuiltanewone,theydid,theCouncil.Fournewcottagesspeciallyforlabourers.
“Regularartist,Mr.Bwas,”saidMrs.Copleigh.“Funnykindofcoatheusedtowear.Sortofvelvetorcorduroy.Itusedtohaveholesintheelbowsandheworegreenandyellowshirts,hedid.Oh,verycolourful,hewas.Ilikedhispictures,Idid.Hehadashowingofthemoneyear.RoundaboutChristmastimeitwas,Ithink.No,ofcoursenot,itmusthavebeeninthesummer.Hewasn’thereinthewinter.Yes,verynice.Nothingexciting,ifyouknowwhatImean.Justahousewithacoupleoftreesortwocowslookingoverafence.Butallniceandquietandprettycolours.Notlikesomeoftheseyoungchapsnowadays.”
“Doyouhavealotofartistsdownhere?”
“Notreally.Ohno,nottospeakof.Oneortwoladiescomesdowninthesummeranddoessketchingsometimes,butIdon’tthinkmuchofthem.Wehadayoungfellowayearago,calledhimselfanartist.Didn’tshaveproperly.Ican’tsayIlikedanyofhispicturesmuch.Funnycoloursallswirledroundanyhow.Nothingyoucouldrecognizeabit.Soldalotofhispictures,hedidatthat.Andtheyweren’tcheap,mindyou.”
“Oughttohavebeenfivepounds,”saidMr.CopleighenteringtheconversationforthefirsttimesosuddenlythatTuppencejumped.
“Whatmyhusbandthinksis,”saidMrs.Copleigh,resumingherplaceasinterpretertohim.“Hethinksnopictureoughttocostmorethanfivepounds.Paintswouldn’tcostasmuchasthat.That’swhathesays,don’tyou,George?”
“Ah,”saidGeorge.
“Mr.Boscowanpaintedapictureofthathousebythebridgeandthecanal—WatersideorWatermead,isn’titcalled?Icamethatwaytoday.”
“Oh,youcamealongthatroad,didyou?It’snotmuchofaroad,isit?Verynarrow.Lonelythathouseis,Ialwaysthink.Iwouldn’tliketoliveinthathouse.Toolonely.Don’tyouagree,George?”
Georgemadethenoisethatexpressedfaintdisagreementandpossiblycontemptatthecowardiceofwomen.
“That’swhereAlicePerrylives,thatis,”saidMrs.Copleigh.
TuppenceabandonedherresearchesonMr.BoscowantogoalongwithanopiniononthePerrys.Itwas,sheperceived,alwaysbettertogoalongwithMrs.Copleighwhowasajumperfromsubjecttosubject.
“Queercoupletheyare,”saidMrs.Copleigh.
Georgemadehisagreeingsound.
“Keepthemselvestothemselves,theydo.Don’tminglemuch,asyou’dsay.Andshegoesaboutlookinglikenothingonearth,AlicePerrydoes.”
“Mad,”saidMr.Copleigh.
“Well,Idon’tknowasI’dsaythat.Shelooksmadallright.Allthatscattyhairflyingabout.Andshewearsmen’scoatsandgreatrubberbootsmostofthetime.Andshesaysoddthingsanddoesn’tsometimesansweryourightwhenyouaskheraquestion.ButIwouldn’tsayshewasmad.Peculiar,that’sall.”
“Dopeoplelikeher?”
“Nobodyknowsherhardly,althoughthey’vebeenthereseveralyears.There’sallsortsoftalesaboutherbutthen,there’salwaystales.”
“Whatsortoftales?”
DirectquestionswereneverresentedbyMrs.Copleigh,whowelcomedthemasonewhowasonlytooeagertoanswer.
“Callsupspirits,theysay,atnight.Sittingroundatable.Andthere’sstoriesoflightsmovingaboutthehouseatnight.Andshereadsalotofcleverbooks,theysay.Withthingsdrawninthem—circlesandstars.Ifyouaskme,it’sAmosPerryasistheonethat’snotquiteallright.”
“He’sjustsimple,”saidMr.Copleighindulgently.
“Well,youmayberightaboutthat.Butthereweretalessaidofhimonce.Fondofhisgarden,butdoesn’tknowmuch.”
“It’sonlyhalfahousethough,isn’tit?”saidTuppence.“Mrs.Perryaskedmeinverykindly.”
“Didshenow?Didshereally?Idon’tknowasI’dhavelikedtogointothathouse,”saidMrs.Copleigh.
“Theirpartofit’sallright,”saidMr.Copleigh.
“Isn’ttheotherpartallright?”saidTuppence.“Thefrontpartthatgivesonthecanal.”
“Well,thereusedtobealotofstoriesaboutit.Ofcourse,nobody’slivedinitforyears.Theysaythere’ssomethingqueeraboutit.Lotofstoriestold.Butwhenyoucomedowntoit,it’snotstoriesinanybody’smemoryhere.It’salllongago.Itwasbuiltoverahundredyearsago,youknow.Theysayastherewasaprettyladykepttherefirst,builtforher,itwas,byoneofthegentlemenatCourt.”
“QueenVictoria’sCourt?”askedTuppencewithinterest.
“Idon’tthinkitwouldbeher.Shewasparticular,theoldQueenwas.No,I’dsayitwasbeforethat.TimeofoneofthemGeorges.Thisgentlemen,heusedtocomedownandseeherandthestorygoesthattheyhadaquarrelandhecutherthroatonenight.”
“Howterrible!”saidTuppence.“Didtheyhanghimforit?”
“No.Ohno,therewasnothingofthatsort.Thestoryis,yousee,thathehadtogetridofthebodyandhewalledherupinthefireplace.”
“Walledherupinthefireplace!”
“Somewaystheytellit,theysayshewasanun,andshehadrunawayfromaconventandthat’swhyshehadtobewalledup.That’swhattheydoatconvents.”
“Butitwasn’tnunswhowalledherup.”
“No,no.Hedidit.Herlover,whathaddoneherin.Andhebrickedupallthefireplace,theysay,andnailedabigsheetofironoverit.Anyway,shewasneverseenagain,poorsoul,walkingaboutinherfinedresses.Somesaid,ofcourse,she’dgoneawaywithhim.Goneawaytoliveintownorbacktosomeotherplace.Peopleusedtohearnoises
“Butwhathappenedlater?”saidTuppence,feelingthattogobackbeyondthereignofQueenVictoriaseemedalittletoofarintothepastforwhatshewaslookingfor.
“Well,Idon’trightlyknowastherewasverymuch.AfarmercalledBlodgicktookitoverwhenitcameupforsale,Ibelieve.Heweren’ttherelongeither.Whattheycalledagentlemanfarmer.That’swhyhelikedthehouse,Isuppose,butthefarminglandwasn’tmuchusetohim,andhedidn’tknowhowtodealwithit.Sohesolditagain.Changedhandseversomanytimesithas—Alwaysbuilderscomingalongandmakingalterations—newbathrooms—thatsortofthing—Acouplehaditwhoweredoingchickenfarming,Ibelieve,atonetime.Butitgotaname,youknow,forbeingunlucky.Butallthat’sabitbeforemytime.IbelieveMr.Boscowanhimselfthoughtofbuyingitatonetime.Thatwaswhenhepaintedthepictureofit.”
“WhatsortofagewasMr.Boscowanwhenhewasdownhere?”
“Forty,Iwouldsay,ormaybeabitmorethanthat.Hewasagood-lookingmaninhisway.Runintofatabit,though.Greatoneforthegirls,hewas.”
“Ah,”saidMr.Copleigh.Itwasawarninggruntthistime.
“Ahwell,weallknowwhatartistsarelike,”saidMrs.Copleigh,includingTuppenceinthisknowledge.“GoovertoFrancealot,youknow,andgetFrenchways,theydo.”
“Hewasn’tmarried?”
“Notthenhewasn’t.Notwhenhewasfirstdownhere.BitkeenhewasonMrs.Charrington’sdaughter,butnothingcameofit.Shewasalovelygirl,though,buttooyoungforhim.Shewasn’tmorethantwenty-five.”
“WhowasMrs.Charrington?”Tuppencefeltbewilderedatthisintroductionofnewcharacters.
“WhatthehellamIdoinghere,anyway?”shethoughtsuddenlyaswavesoffatiguesweptoverher—“I’mjustlisteningtoalotofgossipaboutpeople,andimaginingthingslikemurderwhicharen’ttrueatall.Icanseenow—ItstartedwhenanicebutaddleheadedoldpussygotabitmixedupinherheadandbeganreminiscingaboutstoriesthisMr.Boscowan,orsomeonelikehimwhomayhavegiventhepicturetoher,toldaboutthehouseandthelegendsaboutit,ofsomeonebeingwalledupaliveinafireplaceandshethoughtitwasachildforsomereason.AndhereIamgoingroundinvestigatingmares’nests.TommytoldmeIwasafool,andhewasquiteright—Iamafool.”
ShewaitedforabreaktooccurinMrs.Copleigh’sevenflowofconversation,sothatshecouldrise,saygoodnightpolitelyandgoupstairstobed.
Mrs.Copleighwasstillinfullandhappyspate.
“Mrs.Charrington?Oh,shelivedinWatermeadforabit,”saidMrs.Copleigh.“Mrs.Charrington,andherdaughter.Shewasanicelady,shewas,Mrs.Charrington.Widowofanarmyofficer,Ibelieve.Badlyoff,butthehousewasbeingrentedcheap.Didalotofgardening.Shewasveryfondofgardening.Notmuchgoodatkeepingthehouseclean,shewasn’t.Iwentandobligedforher,onceortwice,butIcouldn’tkeepitup.Ihadtogoonmybicycle,yousee,andit’sovertwomiles.Weren’tanybusesalongthatroad.”
“Didshelivetherelong?”
“Notmorethantwoorthreeyears,Ithink.Gotscared,Iexpect,afterthetroublescame.Andthenshehadherowntroublesaboutherdaughter,too.Lilian,Ithinkhernamewas.”
Tuppencetookadraughtofthestrongteawithwhichthemealwasfortified,andresolvedtogetfinishedwithMrs.Charringtonbeforeseekingrepose.
“Whatwasthetroubleaboutthedaughter?Mr.Boscowan?”
“No,itwasn’tMr.Boscowanasgotherintotrouble.I’llneverbelievethat.Itwastheotherone.”
“Whowastheotherone?”askedTuppence.“Someoneelsewholiveddownhere?”
“Idon’tthinkheliveddownintheseparts.Someoneshe’dmetupinLondon.Shewentuptheretostudyballetdancing,woulditbe?Orart?Mr.Boscowanarrangedforhertojoinsomeschoolthere.SlateIthinkitsnamewas.”
“Slade?”suggestedTuppence.
“Mayhavebeen.Thatsortofname.Anyway,sheusedtogoupthereandthat’showshegottoknowthisfellow,whoeverhewas.Hermotherdidn’tlikeit.Sheforbadehertomeethim.Fatlotofgoodthatwaslikelytodo.Shewasasillywomaninsomeways.Likealotofthosearmyofficers’wiveswere,youknow.Shethoughtgirlswoulddoastheyweretold.Behindthetimes,shewas.BeenoutinIndiaandthoseparts,butwhenit’saquestionofagood-lookingyoungfellowandyoutakeyoureyeoffagirl,youwon’tfindshe’sdoingwhatyoutoldher.Nother.Heusedtocomedownherenowandthenandtheyusedtomeetoutside.”
“Andthenshegotintotrouble,didshe?”Tuppencesaid,usingthewell-knowneuphemism,hopingthatunderthatformitwouldnotoffendMr.Copleigh’ssenseofpropriety.
“Musthavebeenhim,Isuppose.Anyway,thereitwasplainasplain.Isawhowitwaslongbeforeherownmotherdid.Beautifulcreature,shewas.Bigandtallandhandsome.ButIdon’tthink,youknow,thatshewasonethatcouldstanduptothings.She’dbreakup,youknow.Sheusedtowalkaboutratherwildlike,mutteringtoherself.Ifyouaskmehetreatedherbad,thatfellowdid.Wentawayandleftherwhenhefoundoutwhatwashappening.Ofcourse,amotheraswasamotherwouldhavegoneandtalkedtohimandmadehimseewherehisdutylay,butMrs.Charrington,shewouldn’thavehadthespirittodothat.Anyway,hermothergotwise,andshetookthegirlaway.Shutupthehouse,shedidandafterwardsitwasputupforsale.Theycamebacktopackup,Ibelieve,buttheynevercametothevillageorsaidanythingtoanyone.Theynevercomebackhere,neitherofthem.Therewassomestorygotaround.Ineverknewiftherewasanytruthinit.”
“Somefolk’llmakeupanything,”saidMr.Copleighunexpectedly.
“Well,you’rerightthere,George.Stilltheymayhavebeentrue.Suchthingshappen.Andasyousay,thatgirldidn’tlookquiterightintheheadtome.”
“Whatwasthestory?”demandedTuppence.
“Well,really,Idon’tliketosay.It’salongtimesinceandIwouldn’tliketosayanythingasIwasn’tsureofit.ItwasMrs.Badcock’sLouisewhoputitabout.Awfulliarthatgirlwas.Thethingsshe’dsay.Anythingtomakeupagoodstory.”
“Butwhatwasit?”saidTuppence.
“SaidthisCharringtongirlhadkilledthebabyandafterthatkilledherself.Saidhermotherwenthalfmadwithgriefandherrelationshadtoputherinanursinghome.”
AgainTuppencefeltconfusionmountinginherhead.Shefeltalmostasthoughshewasswayinginherchair.CouldMrs.CharringtonbeMrs.Lancaster?Changedhername,goneslightlybatty,obsessedaboutherdaughter’sfate.Mrs.Copleigh’svoicewasgoingonremorselessly.
“Ineverbelievedawordofthatmyself.ThatBadcockgirlwouldsayanything.Weweren’tlisteningmuchtohearsayandstoriesjustthen—we’dhadotherthingstoworryabout.Scaredstiffwe’dbeen,alloverthecountrysideonaccountofthethingsthathadbeengoingon—realthings—”
“Why?Whathadbeenhappening?”askedTuppence,marvellingatthethingsthatseemedtohappen,andtocentreroundthepeaceful-lookingvillageofSuttonChancellor.
“Idaresayasyou’llhavereadaboutitallinthepapersatthetime.Let’ssee,nearaspossibleitwouldhavebeentwentyyearsago.You’llhavereadaboutitforsure.Childmurders.Littlegirlofnineyearsoldfirst.Didn’tcomehomefromschooloneday.Wholeneighbourhoodwasoutsearchingforher.DingleyCopseshewasfoundin.Strangled,she’dbeen.Itmakesmeshiverstilltothinkofit.Well,thatwasthefirst,thenaboutthreeweekslateranother.TheothersideofMarketBasing,thatwas.Butwithinthedistrict,asyoumightsay.Amanwithacarcouldhavedoneiteasyenough.
“Andthentherewereothers.Notforamonthortwosometimes.Andthenthere’dbeanotherone.Notmorethanacoupleofmilesfromhere,onewas;almostinthevillage,though.”
“Didn’tthepolice—didn’tanyoneknowwho’ddoneit?”
“Theytriedhardenough,”saidMrs.Copleigh.“Detainedamanquitesoon,theydid.Someonefromt’othersideofMarketBasing.Saidhewashelpingthemintheirinquiries.Youknowwhatthatalwaysmeans.Theythinkthey’vegothim.Theypulledinfirstoneandthenanotherbutalwaysaftertwenty-fourhoursorsotheyhadtolethimgoagain.Foundouthecouldn’thavedoneitorwasn’tinthesepartsorsomebodygavehimanalibi.”
“Youdon’tknow,Liz,”saidMr.Copleigh.“Theymayhaveknownquitewellwhodoneit.I’dsaytheydid.That’softenthewayofit,orsoI’veheard.Thepoliceknowwhoitisbuttheycan’tgettheevidence.”
“That’swives,thatis,”saidMrs.Copleigh,“wivesormothersorfatherseven.Eventhepolicecan’tdomuchnomatterwhattheymaythink.Amothersays‘myboywasherethatnightatdinner’orhisyoungladysaysshewenttothepictureswithhimthatnight,andhewaswithherthewholetime,orafathersaysthatheandhissonwereoutinthefarfieldtogetherdoingsomething—well,youcan’tdoanythingagainstit.Theymaythinkthefatherorthemotherorhissweetheart’slying,butunlesssomeoneelsecomealongandsaytheysawtheboyorthemanorwhateveritisinsomeotherplace,there’snotmuchtheycando.Itwasaterribletime.Righthetupweallwereroundhere.Whenweheardanotherchildwasmissingwe’dmakepartiesup.”
“Aye,that’sright,”saidMr.Copleigh.
“Whenthey’dgottogetherthey’dgooutandthey’dsearch.Sometimestheyfoundheratonceandsometimestheywouldn’tfindherforweeks.Sometimesshewasquitenearherhomeinaplaceyou’dhavethoughtwemusthavelookedatalready.Maniac,Isupposeitmusthavebeen.It’sawful,”saidMrs.Copleighinarighteoustone,“it’sawful,thatthereshouldbemenlikethat.Theyoughttobeshot.Theyoughttobestrangledthemselves.AndI’ddoittothemforone,ifanyonewouldletme.Anymanwhokillschildrenandassaultsthem.What’sthegoodputtingtheminloonybinsandtreatingthemwithallthehomecomfortsandlivingsoft.Andthensoonerorlatertheylet’emoutagain,saythey’recuredandsendthemhome.ThathappenedsomewhereinNorfolk.Mysisterlivesthereandshetoldmeaboutit.Hewentbackhomeandtwodayslaterhe’ddoneinsomeoneelse.Crazytheyare,thesedoctors,someofthem,sayingthesemenarecuredwhentheyarenot.”
“Andyou’venoideadownherewhoitmighthavebeen?”saidTuppence.“Doyouthinkreallyitwasastranger?”
“Mighthavebeenastrangertous.Butitmusthavebeensomeonelivingwithin—oh!I’dsayarangeoftwentymilesaround.Itmightn’thavebeenhereinthisvillage.”
“Youalwaysthoughtitwas,Liz.”
“Yougethetup,”saidMrs.Copleigh.“Youthinkit’ssuretobehereinyourownneighbourhoodbecauseyou’reafraid,Isuppose.Iusedtolookatpeople.Sodidyou,George.You’dsaytoyourselfIwonderifitcouldbethatchap,he’sseemedabitqueerlately.Thatsortofthing.”
“Idon’tsupposereallyhelookedqueeratall,”saidTuppence.“Heprobablylookedjustlikeeveryoneelse.”
“Yes,itcouldbeyou’vegotsomethingthere.I’vehearditsaidthatyouwouldn’tknow,andwhoeveritwashadneverseemedmadatall,butotherpeoplesaythere’salwaysaterribleglareintheireyes.”
“Jeffreys,hewasthesergeantofpoliceherethen,”saidMr.Copleigh,“healwaysusedtosayhehadagoodideabuttherewasnothingdoing.”
“Theynevercaughttheman?”
“No.Oversixmonthsitwas,nearlyayear.Thenthewholethingstopped.Andthere’sneverbeenanythingofthatkindroundheresince.No,Ithinkhemusthavegoneaway.Goneawayaltogether.That’swhatmakespeoplethinktheymightknowwhoitwas.”
“Youmeanbecauseofpeoplewhodidleavethedistrict?”
“Well,ofcourseitmadepeopletalk,youknow.They’dsayitmightbeso-and-so.”
Tuppencehesitatedtoaskthenextquestion,butshefeltthatwithMrs.Copleigh’spassionfortalkingitwouldn’tmatterifshedid.
“Whodidyouthinkitwas?”sheasked.
“Well,it’sthatlongagoI’dhardlyliketosay.Buttherewasnamesmentioned.Talkedof,youknow,andlookedat.SomeasthoughtitmightbeMr.Boscowan.”
“Didthey?”
“Yes,beinganartistandall,artistsarequeer.Theysaythat.ButIdidn’tthinkitwashim!”
“TherewasmoreassaiditwasAmosPerry,”saidMr.Copleigh.
“Mrs.Perry’shusband?”
“Yes.He’sabitqueer,youknow,simpleminded.He’sthesortofchapthatmighthavedoneit.”
“WerethePerryslivingherethen?”
“Yes.NotatWatermead.Theyhadacottageaboutfourorfivemilesaway.Policehadaneyeonhim,I’msureofthat.”
“Couldn’tgetanythingonhim,though,”saidMrs.Copleigh.“Hiswifespokeforhimalways.Stayedathomewithherintheevenings,hedid.Always,shesaid.JustwentalongsometimestothepubonaSaturdaynight,butnoneofthesemurderstookplaceonaSaturdaynight,sotherewasn’tanythinginthat.Besides,AlicePerrywasthekindyou’dbelievewhenshegaveevidence.She’dneverletuporbackdown.Youcouldn’tfrightenheroutofit.Anyway,he’snottheone.Ineverthoughtso.IknowI’venothingtogoonbutI’veasortoffeelingifI’dhadtoputmyfingeronanyoneI’dhaveputitonSirPhilip.”
“SirPhilip?”AgainTuppence’sheadreeled.Yetanothercharacterwasbeingintroduced.SirPhilip.“Who’sSirPhilip?”sheasked.
“SirPhilipStarke—LivesupintheWarrenderHouse.UsedtobecalledtheOldPriorywhentheWarrenderslivedinit—beforeitburntdown.YoucanseetheWarrendergravesinthechurchyardandtabletsinthechurch,too.AlwaysbeenWarrendersherepracticallysincethetimeofKingJames.”
“WasSirPhiliparelationoftheWarrenders?”
“No.Madehismoneyinabigway,Ibelieve,orhisfatherdid.Steelworksorsomethingofthatkind.OddsortofmanwasSirPhilip.Theworksweresomewhereupnorth,buthelivedhere.Kepttohimselfhedid.Whattheycallarec—rec—rec-something.”
“Recluse,”suggestedTuppence.
“That’sthewordI’mlookingfor.Palehewas,youknow,andthinandbonyandfondofflowers.Hewasabotanist.Usedtocollectallsortsofsillylittlewildflowers,thekindyouwouldn’tlookattwice.Heevenwroteabookonthem,Ibelieve.Ohyes,hewasclever,veryclever.Hiswifewasanicelady,andveryhandsome,butsadlooking,Ialwaysthought.”
Mr.Copleighutteredoneofhisgrunts.“You’redaft,”hesaid.“ThinkingitmighthavebeenSirPhilip.Hewasfondofchildren,SirPhilipwas.Hewasalwaysgivingpartiesforthem.”
“YesIknow.Alwaysgivingfêtes,havinglovelyprizesforthechildren.Eggandspoonraces—allthosestrawberryandcreamteashe’dgive.He’dnochildrenofhisown,yousee.Oftenhe’dstopchildreninalaneandgivethemasweetorgivethemasixpencetobuysweets.ButIdon’tknow.Ithinkheoverdidit.Hewasanoddman.Ithoughttherewassomethingwrongwhenhiswifesuddenlyupandlefthim.”
“Whendidhiswifeleavehim?”
“It’dbeaboutsixmonthsafterallthistroublebegan.Threechildrenhadbeenkilledbythen.LadyStarkewentawaysuddenlytothesouthofFranceandshenevercameback.Shewasn’tthekind,you’dsay,todothat.Shewasaquietlady,respectable.It’snotasthoughshelefthimforanyotherman.No,shewasn’tthekindtodothat.Sowhydidshegoandleavehim?Ialwayssayit’sbecausesheknewsomething—foundoutaboutsomething—”
“Ishestilllivinghere?”
“Notregular,heisn’t.Hecomesdownonceortwiceayearbutthehouseiskeptshutupmostofthetimewithacaretakerthere.MissBlighinthevillage—sheusedtobehissecretary—sheseestothingsforhim.”
“Andhiswife?”
“She’sdead,poorlady.Diedsoonaftershewentabroad.There’satabletputuptoherinthechurch.Awfulforheritwouldbe.Perhapsshewasn’tsureatfirst,thenperhapsshebegantosuspectherhusband,andthenperhapsshegottobequitesure.Shecouldn’tbearitandshewentaway.”
“Thethingsyouwomenimagine,”saidMr.Copleigh.
“AllIsayistherewassomethingthatwasn’trightaboutSirPhilip.Hewastoofondofchildren,Ithink,anditwasn’tinanaturalkindofway.”
“Women’sfancies,”saidMr.Copleigh
Mrs.Copleighgotupandstartedtomovethingsoffthetable.
“Abouttime,”saidherhusband.“You’llgivethisladyherebaddreamsifyougoonaboutthingsaswereoveryearsagoandhavenothingtodowithanyonehereanymore.”
“It’sbeenveryinterestinghearing,”saidTuppence.“ButIamverysleepy.IthinkI’dbettergotobednow.”
“Well,weusuallygoesearlytobed,”saidMrs.Copleigh,“andyou’llbetiredafterthelongdayyou’vehad.”
“Iam.I’mfrightfullysleepy.”Tuppencegavealargeyawn.“Well,goodnightandthankyouverymuch.”
“Wouldyoulikeacallandacupofteainthemorning?Eighto’clocktooearlyforyou?”
“No,thatwouldbefine,”saidTuppence.“Butdon’tbotherifit’salotoftrouble.”
“Notroubleatall,”saidMrs.Copleigh.
Tuppencepulledherselfwearilyuptobed.Sheopenedhersuitcase,tookoutthefewthingssheneeded,undressed,washedanddroppedintobed.ItwastruewhatshehadtoldMrs.Copleigh.Shewasdeadtired.Thethingsshehadheardpassedthroughherheadinakindofkaleidoscopeofmovingfiguresandofallsortsofhorrificimaginings.Deadchildren—toomanydeadchildren.Tuppencewantedjustonedeadchildbehindafireplace.ThefireplacehadtodoperhapswithWaterside.Thechild’sdoll.Achildthathadbeenkilledbyadementedyounggirldrivenoffherratherweakbrainsbythefactthatherloverhaddesertedher.Ohdearme,whatmelodramaticlanguageI’musing,thoughtTuppence.Allsuchamuddle—thechronologyallmixedup—onecan’tbesurewhathappenedwhen.
Shewenttosleepanddreamt.TherewasakindofLadyofShalottlookingoutofthewindowofthehouse.Therewasascratchingnoisecomingfromthechimney.Blowswerecomingfrombehindagreatironplatenailedupthere.Theclangingsoundsofthehammer.Clang,clang,clang.Tuppencewokeup.ItwasMrs.Copleighknockingonthedoor.Shecameinbrightly,puttheteadownbyTuppence’sbed,pulledthecurtains,hopedTuppencehadsleptwell.Noonehadever,Tuppencethought,lookedmorecheerfulthanMrs.Copleighdid.Shehadhadnobaddreams!
Nine
AMORNINGINMARKETBASING
“Ahwell,”saidMrs.Copleigh,asshebustledoutoftheroom.“Anotherday.That’swhatIalwayssaywhenIwakeup.”
“Anotherday?”thoughtTuppence,sippingstrongblacktea.“IwonderifI’mmakinganidiotofmyself…?Couldbe…WishIhadTommyheretotalkto.Lastnightmuddledme.”
Beforesheleftherroom,Tuppencemadeentriesinhernotebookonthevariousfactsandnamesthatshehadheardthenightbefore,whichshehadbeenfartootiredtodowhenshewentuptobed.Melodramaticstories,ofthepast,containingperhapsgrainsoftruthhereandtherebutmostlyhearsay,malice,gossip,romanticimagination.
“Really,”thoughtTuppence.“I’mbeginningtoknowthelovelivesofaquantityofpeoplerightbacktotheeighteenthcentury,Ithink.Butwhatdoesitallamountto?AndwhatamIlookingfor?Idon’tevenknowanylonger.TheawfulthingisthatI’vegotinvolvedandIcan’tleaveoff.”
HavingashrewdsuspicionthatthefirstthingshemightbegettinginvolvedwithwasMissBligh,whomTuppencerecognizedastheoverallmenaceofSuttonChancellor,shecircumventedallkindoffersofhelpbydrivingofftoMarketBasingposthaste,onlypausing,whenthecarwasaccostedbyMissBlighwithshrillcries,toexplaintothatladythatshehadanurgentappointment…Whenwouldshebeback?Tuppencewasvague—Wouldshecaretolunch?—VerykindofMissBligh,butTuppencewasafraid—
“Tea,then.Four-thirtyI’llexpectyou.”ItwasalmostaRoyalCommand.Tuppencesmiled,nodded,letintheclutchanddroveon.
Possibly,Tuppencethought—ifshegotanythinginterestingoutofthehouseagentsinMarketBasing—NellieBlighmightprovideadditionalusefulinformation.Shewasthekindofwomanwhopridedherselfonknowingallabouteveryone.ThesnagwasthatshewouldbedeterminedtoknowallaboutTuppence.PossiblybythisafternoonTuppencewouldhaverecoveredsufficientlytobeoncemoreherowninventiveself!
“Remember,Mrs.Blenkensop,”saidTuppence,edgingroundasharpcornerandsqueezingintoahedgetoavoidbeingannihilatedbyafrolicsometractorofimmensebulk.
ArrivedinMarketBasingsheputthecarinaparkinglotinthemainsquare,andwentintothepostofficeandenteredavacanttelephonebox.
ThevoiceofAlbertanswered—usinghisusualresponse—asingle“Hallo”utteredinasuspiciousvoice.
“Listen,Albert—I’llbehometomorrow.Intimefordinner,anyway—perhapsearlier.Mr.Beresfordwillbeback,too,unlessheringsup.Getussomething—chicken,Ithink.”
“Right,Madam.Whereareyou—”
ButTuppencehadrungoff.
ThelifeofMarketBasingseemedcentredinitsimportantmainsquare—Tuppencehadconsultedaclassifieddirectorybeforeleavingthepostofficeandthreeoutofthefourhouseandestateagentsweresituatedinthesquare—thefourthinsomethingcalledGeorgeStreet.
Tuppencescribbleddownthenamesandwentouttolookforthem.
ShestartedwithMessrs.Lovebody&Slickerwhichappearedtobethemostimposing.
Agirlwithspotsreceivedher.
“Iwanttomakesomeinquiriesaboutahouse.”
Thegirlreceivedthisnewswithoutinterest.Tuppencemighthavebeeninquiringaboutsomerareanimal.
“Idon’tknow,I’msure,”saidthegirl,lookingroundtoascertainiftherewasoneofhercolleaguestowhomshecouldpassTuppenceon—
“Ahouse,”saidTuppence.“Youarehouseagents,aren’tyou?”
“Houseagentsandauctioneers.TheCranberryCourtauction’sonWednesdayifit’sthatyou’reinterestedin,cataloguestwoshillings.”
“I’mnotinterestedinauctions.Iwanttoaskaboutahouse.”
“Furnished?”
“Unfurnished—Tobuy—orrent.”
Spotsbrightenedalittle.
“Ithinkyou’dbetterseeMr.Slicker.”
TuppencewasallforseeingMr.Slickerandwaspresentlyseatedinasmallofficeoppositeatweed-suitedyoungmaninhorsychecks,whobeganturningoveralargenumberofparticularsofdesirableresidences—murmuringcommentstohimself…“8MandevilleRoad—architectbuilt,threebed,Americankitchen—Oh,no,that’sgone—AmabelLodge—picturesqueresidence,fouracres—reducedpriceforquicksale—”
Tuppenceinterruptedhimforcefully:“IhaveseenahouseIlikethelookof—InSuttonChancellor—orrather,nearSuttonChancellor—byacanal—”
“SuttonChancellor,”Mr.Slickerlookeddoubtful—“Idon’tthinkwehaveanypropertythereonourbooksatpresent.Whatname?”
“Itdoesn’tseemtohaveanywrittenup—PossiblyWaterside.Rivermead—oncecalledBridgeHouse.Igather,”saidTuppence,“thehouseisintwoparts.Onehalfisletbutthetenanttherecouldnottellmeanythingabouttheotherhalf,whichfrontsonthecanalandwhichistheoneinwhichIaminterested.Itappearstobeunoccupied.”
Mr.Slickersaiddistantlythathewasafraidhecouldn’thelpher,butcondescendedtosupplytheinformationthatperhapsMessrs.Blodget&Burgessmightdoso.BythetoneinhisvoicetheclerkseemedtoimplythisMessrs.Blodget&Burgesswereaveryinferiorfirm.
TuppencetransferredherselftoMessrs.Blodget&Burgesswhowereontheoppositesideofthesquare—andwhosepremisescloselyresembledthoseofMessrs.Lovebody&Slicker—thesamekindofsalebillsandforthcomingauctionsintheirrathergrimywindows.Theirfrontdoorhadrecentlybeenrepaintedaratherbiliousshadeofgreen,ifthatwasaccountedtobeamerit.
Thereceptionarrangementswereequallydiscouraging,andTuppencewasgivenovertoaMr.Sprig,anelderlymanofapparentlydespondentdisposition.OncemoreTuppenceretailedherwantsandrequirements.
Mr.Sprigadmittedtobeingawareoftheexistenceoftheresidenceinquestion,butwasnothelpful,orasfarasitseemed,muchinterested.
“It’snotinthemarket,I’mafraid.Theownerdoesn’twanttosell.”
“Whoistheowner?”
“ReallyIdoubtifIknow.Ithaschangedhandsratherfrequently—therewasarumouratonemomentofacompulsorypurchaseorder.”
“Whatdidanylocalgovernmentwantitfor?”
“Really,Mrs.—er—(heglanceddownatTuppence’snamejotteddownonhisblotter)—Mrs.Beresford,ifyoucouldtellmetheanswertothatquestionyouwouldbewiserthanmostvictimsarethesedays.Thewaysoflocalcouncilsandplanningsocietiesarealwaysshroudedinmystery.Therearportionofthehousehadafewnecessaryrepairsdonetoitandwasletatanexceedinglylowrenttoa—er—ahyes,aMr.andMrs.Perry.Astotheactualownersoftheproperty,thegentlemaninquestionlivesabroadandseemstohavelostinterestintheplace.Iimaginetherewassomequestionofaminorinheriting,anditwasadministeredbyexecutors.Somesmalllegaldifficultiesarose—thelawtendstobeexpensive,Mrs.Beresford—Ifancytheownerisquitecontentforthehousetofalldown—norepairsaredoneexcepttotheportionthePerrysinhabit.Theactualland,ofcourse,mightalwaysprovevaluableinthefuture—therepairofderelicthousesisseldomprofitable.Ifyouareinterestedinapropertyofthatkind,Iamsurewecouldofferyousomethingfarmoreworthyourwhile.What,ifImayask,istherewhichespeciallyappealedtoyouinthisproperty?”
“Ilikedthelookofit,”saidTuppence.“It’saveryprettyhouse—Isawitfirstfromthetrain—”
“Oh,Isee—”Mr.Sprigmaskedasbesthecouldanexpressionof“thefoolishnessofwomenisincredible”—andsaidsoothingly,“IshouldreallyforgetallaboutitifIwereyou.”
“Isupposeyoucouldwriteandasktheownersiftheywouldbepreparedtosell—orifyouwouldgivemetheir—orhisaddress—”
“Wewillgetintocommunicationwiththeowners’solicitorsifyouinsist—butIcan’tholdoutmuchhope.”
“Isupposeonealwayshastogothroughsolicitorsforeverythingnowadays.”Tuppencesoundedbothfoolishandfretful…“Andlawyersarealwayssoslowovereverything.”
“Ahyes—thelawisprolificofdelays—”
“Andsoarebanks—justasbad!”
“Banks—”Mr.Sprigsoundedalittlestartled.
“Somanypeoplegiveyouabankasanaddress.That’stiresometoo.”
“Yes—yes—asyousay—Butpeoplearesorestlessthesedaysandmoveaboutsomuch—livingabroadandallthat.”Heopenedadeskdrawer.“NowIhaveapropertyhere,Crossgates—twomilesfromMarketBasing—verygoodcondition—nicegarden—”
Tuppencerosetoherfeet.
“Nothankyou.”
ShebadeMr.Sprigafirmgoodbyeandwentoutintothesquare.
Shepaidabriefvisittothethirdestablishmentwhichseemedtobemainlypreoccupiedwithsalesofcattle,chickenfarmsandgeneralfarmsinaderelictcondition.
ShepaidafinalvisittoMessrs.Roberts&WileyinGeorgeStreet—whichseemedtobeasmallbutpushingbusiness,anxioustooblige—butgenerallyuninterestedandignorantofSuttonChancellorandanxioustosellresidencesasyetonlyhalfbuiltatwhatseemedridiculouslyexorbitantsums—anillustrationofonemadeTuppenceshudder.Theeageryoungmanseeinghispossibleclientfirmindeparture,admittedunwillinglythatsuchaplaceasSuttonChancellordidexist.
“SuttonChancelloryoumentioned.BettertryBlodget&Burgessinthesquare.Theyhandlesomepropertythereabouts—butit’sallinverypoorcondition—rundown—”
“There’saprettyhousenearthere,byacanalbridge—Isawitfromthetrain.Whydoesnobodywanttolivethere?”
“Oh!Iknowtheplace,this—Riverbank—Youwouldn’tgetanyonetoliveinit—Gotareputationashaunted.”
“Youmean—ghosts?”
“Sotheysay—Lotsoftalesaboutit.Noisesatnights.Andgroans.Ifyouaskme,it’sdeathwatchbeetle.”
“Ohdear,”saidTuppence.“Itlookedtomesoniceandisolated.”
“Muchtooisolatedmostpeoplewouldsay.Floodsinwinter—thinkofthat.”
“Iseethatthere’salottothinkabout,”saidTuppencebitterly.
ShemurmuredtoherselfasshesentherstepstowardsTheLambandFlagatwhichsheproposedtofortifyherselfwithlunch.
“Alottothinkabout—floods,deathwatchbeetle,ghosts,clankingchains,absenteeownersandlandlords,solicitors,banks—ahousethatnobodywantsorloves—exceptperhapsme…Ohwell,whatIwantnowisfood.”
ThefoodatTheLambandFlagwasgoodandplentiful—heartyfoodforfarmersratherthanphonyFrenchmenusfortouristspassingthrough—Thicksavourysoup,legofporkandapplesauce,Stiltoncheese—orplumsandcustardifyoupreferredit—whichTuppencedidn’t—
Afteradesultorystrollround,TuppenceretrievedhercarandstartedbacktoSuttonChancellor—unabletofeelthathermorninghadbeenfruitful.
AssheturnedthelastcornerandSuttonChancellorchurchcameintoview,Tuppencesawthevicaremergingfromthechurchyard.Hewalkedratherwearily.Tuppencedrewupbyhim.
“Areyoustilllookingforthatgrave?”sheasked.
Thevicarhadonehandatthesmallofhisback.
“Ohdear,”hesaid,“myeyesightisnotverygood.Somanyoftheinscriptionsarenearlyerased.Mybacktroublesme,too.Somanyofthesestoneslieflatontheground.Really,whenIbendoversometimesIfearthatIshallnevergetupagain.”
“Ishouldn’tdoitanymore,”saidTuppence.“Ifyou’velookedintheparishregisterandallthat,you’vedoneallyoucan.”
“Iknow,butthepoorfellowseemedsokeen,soearnest.I’mquitesurethatit’sallwastedlabour.However,Ireallyfeltitwasmyduty.IhavestillgotashortstretchIhaven’tdone,overtherefrombeyondtheyewtreetothefarwall—althoughmostofthestonesareeighteenthcentury.ButIshouldliketofeelIhadfinishedmytaskproperly.ThenIcouldnotreproachmyself.However,Ishallleaveittilltomorrow.”
“Quiteright,”saidTuppence.“Youmustn’tdotoomuchinoneday.Itellyouwhat,”sheadded.“AfterI’vehadacupofteawithMissBligh,I’llgoandhavealookmyself.Fromtheyewtreetothewall,doyousay?”
“Oh,butIcouldn’tpossiblyaskyou—”
“That’sallright.Ishallquiteliketodoit.Ithinkit’sveryinterestingprowlingroundinachurchyard.Youknow,theolderinscriptionsgiveyouasortofpictureofthepeoplewholivedhereandallthatsortofthing.Ishallquiteenjoyit,Ishallreally.Dogobackhomeandrest.”
“Well,ofcourse,Ireallyhavetodosomethingaboutmysermonthisevening,it’squitetrue.Youareaverykindfriend,I’msure.Averykindfriend.”
Hebeamedatheranddepartedintothevicarage.Tuppenceglancedatherwatch.ShestoppedatMissBligh’shouse.“Mightaswellgetitover,”thoughtTuppence.ThefrontdoorwasopenandMissBlighwasjustcarryingaplateoffresh-bakedsconesacrossthehallintothesittingroom.
“Oh!sothereyouare,dearMrs.Beresford.I’msopleasedtoseeyou.Tea’squiteready.Thekettleison.I’veonlygottofilluptheteapot.Ihopeyoudidalltheshoppingyouwanted,”sheadded,lookinginarathermarkedmanneratthepainfullyevidentemptyshoppingbaghangingonTuppence’sarm.
“Well,Ididn’thavemuchluckreally,”saidTuppence,puttingasgoodafaceonitasshecould.“Youknowhowitissometimes—justoneofthosedayswhenpeoplejusthaven’tgottheparticularcolourortheparticularkindofthingyouwant.ButIalwaysenjoylookingroundanewplaceevenifitisn’taveryinterestingone.”
AwhistlingkettleletforthastridentshriekforattentionandMissBlighshotbackintothekitchentoattendtoit,scatteringabatchofletterswaitingforthepostonthehalltable.
Tuppencestoopedandretrievedthem,noticingassheputthembackonthetablethatthetopmostonewasaddressedtoaMrs.Yorke,RosetrellisCourtforElderlyLadies—atanaddressinCumberland.
“Really,”thoughtTuppence.“IambeginningtofeelasifthewholeofthecountryisfullofnothingbutHomesfortheElderly!IsupposeinnexttonotimeTommyandIwillbelivinginone!”
Onlytheotherday,somewould-bekindandhelpfulfriendhadwrittentorecommendaveryniceaddressinDevon—marriedcouples—mostlyretiredServicepeople.Quitegoodcooking—Youbroughtyourownfurnitureandpersonalbelongings.
MissBlighreappearedwiththeteapotandthetwoladiessatdowntotea.
MissBligh’sconversationwasofalessmelodramaticandjuicynaturethanthatofMrs.Copleigh,andwasconcernedmorewiththeprocuringofinformation,thanofgivingit.
TuppencemurmuredvaguelyofpastyearsofServiceabroad—thedomesticdifficultiesoflifeinEngland,gavedetailsofamarriedsonandamarrieddaughterbothwithchildrenandgentlysteeredtheconversationtotheactivitiesofMissBlighinSuttonChancellorwhichwerenumerous—TheWomen’sInstitute,Guides,Scouts,theConservativeLadiesUnion,Lectures,GreekArt,JamMaking,FlowerArrangement,theSketchingClub,theFriendsofArchaeology—Thevicar’shealth,thenecessityofmakinghimtakecareofhimself,hisabsentmindedness—Unfortunatedifferencesofopinionbetweenchurchwardens—
Tuppencepraisedthescones,thankedherhostessforherhospitalityandrosetogo.
“Youaresowonderfullyenergetic,MissBligh,”shesaid.“Howyoumanagetodoallyoudo,Icannotimagine.Imustconfessthatafteraday’sexcursionandshopping,Ilikejustanicelittlerestonmybed—justhalfanhourorsoofshut-eye—Averycomfortablebed,too.ImustthankyouverymuchforrecommendingmetoMrs.Copleigh—”
“Amostreliablewoman,thoughofcourseshetalkstoomuch—”
“Oh!Ifoundallherlocaltalesmostentertaining.”
“Halfthetimeshedoesn’tknowwhatshe’stalkingabout!Areyoustayinghereforlong?”
“Ohno—I’mgoinghometomorrow.I’mdisappointedatnothavingheardofanysuitablelittleproperty—Ihadhopesofthatverypicturesquehousebythecanal—”
“You’rewelloutofthat.It’sinaverypoorstateofrepair—Absenteelandlords—it’sadisgrace—”
“Icouldn’tevenfindoutwhoitbelongsto.Iexpectyouknow.Youseemtoknoweverythinghere—”
“I’venevertakenmuchinterestinthathouse.It’salwayschanginghands—Onecan’tkeeppace.ThePerrysliveinhalfofit—andtheotherhalfjustgoestorackandruin.”
TuppencesaidgoodbyeagainanddrovebacktoMrs.Copleigh’s.Thehousewasquietandapparentlyempty.Tuppencewentuptoherbedroom,depositedheremptyshoppingbag,washedherfaceandpowderedhernose,tiptoedoutofthehouseagain,lookingupanddownthestreet,thenleavinghercarwhereitwas,shewalkedswiftlyroundthecorner,andtookafootpaththroughthefieldbehindthevillagewhicheventuallyledtoastileintothechurchyard.
Tuppencewentoverthestileintothechurchyard,peacefulintheeveningsun,andbegantoexaminethetombstonesasshehadpromised.Shehadnotreallyhadanyulteriormotiveindoingso.Therewasnothinghereshehopedtodiscover.Itwasreallyjustkindlinessonherpart.Theelderlyvicarwasratheradear,andshewouldlikehimtofeelthathisconsciencewasentirelysatisfied.Shehadbroughtanotebookandpencilwithherincasetherewasanythingofinteresttonotedownforhim.Shepresumedshewasmerelytolookforagravestonethatmighthavebeenputupcommemoratingthedeathofsomechildoftherequiredage.Mostofthegravesherewereofanolderdate.Theywerenotveryinteresting,notoldenoughtobequaintortohavetouchingortenderinscriptions.Theyweremostlyoffairlyelderlypeople.Yetshelingeredalittleasshewentalong,makingmentalpicturesinhermind.JaneElwood,departedthislifeJanuarythe6th,aged45.WilliamMarl,departedthislifeJanuarythe5th,deeplyregretted.MaryTreves,fiveyearsold.March14th1835.Thatwastoofarback.“Inthypresenceisthefulnessofjoy.”LuckylittleMaryTreves.
Shehadalmostreachedthefarwallnow.Thegravesherewereneglectedandovergrown,nobodyseemedtocareaboutthisbitofthecemetery.Manyofthestoneswerenolongeruprightbutlayaboutontheground.Thewallherewasdamagedandcrumbling.Inplacesithadbeenbrokendown.
Beingrightbehindthechurch,itcouldnotbeseenfromtheroad—andnodoubtchildrencameheretodowhatdamagetheycould.Tuppencebentoveroneofthestoneslabs—Theoriginalletteringwaswornawayandunreadable—Butheavingitupsideways,Tuppencesawsomecoarselyscrawledlettersandwords,alsobynowpartlyovergrown.
Shestoppedtotracethemwithaforefinger,andgotawordhereandthere—
Whoever…offend…oneoftheselittleones….
Millstone…Millstone…Millstone…andbelow—inunevencuttingbyanamateurhand:
HereliesLilyWaters.
Tuppencedrewadeepbreath—Shewasconsciousofashadowbehindher,butbeforeshecouldturnherhead—somethinghitheronthebackofherheadandshefellforwardsontothetombstoneintopainanddarkness.
BOOK3MISSING—AWIFE
Ten
ACONFERENCE—ANDAFTER
“Well,Beresford,”saidMajor-GeneralSirJosiahPenn,K.M.G.,C.B.,D.S.O.,speakingwiththeweightappropriatetotheimpressivestreamoflettersafterhisname.“Well,whatdoyouthinkofallthatyackety-yack?”
TommygatheredbythatremarkthatOldJosh,ashewasirreverentlyspokenofbehindhisback,wasnotimpressedwiththeresultofthecourseoftheconferencesinwhichtheyhadbeentakingpart.
“Softly,softlycatcheemonkey,”saidSirJosiah,goingonwithhisremarks.“Alotoftalkandnothingsaid.Ifanybodydoessayanythingsensiblenowandthen,aboutfourbeanstalksimmediatelygetupandhowlitdown.Idon’tknowwhywecometothesethings.Atleast,Idoknow.IknowwhyIdo.Nothingelsetodo.IfIdidn’tcometotheseshows,I’dhavetostayathome.Doyouknowwhathappenstomethere?Igetbullied,Beresford.Bulliedbymyhousekeeper,bulliedbymygardener.He’sanelderlyScotandhewon’tsomuchasletmetouchmyownpeaches.SoIcomealonghere,throwmyweightaboutandpretendtomyselfthatI’mperformingausefulfunction,ensuringthesecurityofthiscountry!Stuffandnonsense.
“Whataboutyou?You’rearelativelyyoungman.Whatdoyoucomeandwasteyourtimefor?Nobody’lllistentoyou,evenifyoudosaysomethingworthhearing.”
Tommy,faintlyamusedthatdespitehisown,asheconsidered,advancedage,hecouldberegardedasayoungsterbyMajorGeneralSirJosiahPenn,shookhishead.TheGeneralmustbe,Tommythought,considerablypasteighty,hewasratherdeaf,heavilybronchial,buthewasnobody’sfool.
“Nothingwouldevergetdoneatallifyouweren’there,sir,”saidTommy.
“Iliketothinkso,”saidtheGeneral.“I’matoothlessbulldog—butIcanstillbark.How’sMrs.Tommy?Haven’tseenherforalongtime.”
TommyrepliedthatTuppencewaswellandactive.
“Shewasalwaysactive.Usedtomakemethinkofadragonflysometimes.Alwaysdartingoffaftersomeapparentlyabsurdideaofherownandthenwe’dfinditwasn’tabsurd.Goodfun!”saidtheGeneral,withapproval.“Don’tliketheseearnestmiddle-agedwomenyoumeetnowadays,allgotaCausewithacapitalC.Andasforthegirlsnowadays—”heshookhishead.“NotwhattheyusedtobewhenIwasayoungman.Prettyasapicture,theyusedtobethen.Theirmuslinfrocks!Clochehats,theyusedtowearatonetime.Doyouremember?No,Isupposeyou’dhavebeenatschool.Hadtolookrightdownunderneaththebrimbeforeyoucouldseethegirl’sface.Tantalizingitwas,andtheyknewit!Iremembernow—letmesee—shewasarelativeofyours—anauntwasn’tshe?—Ada.AdaFanshawe—”
“AuntAda?”
“PrettiestgirlIeverknew.”
Tommymanagedtocontainthesurprisehefelt.ThathisAuntAdacouldeverhavebeenconsideredprettyseemedbeyondbelief.OldJoshwasditheringon.
“Yes,prettyasapicture.Sprightly,too!Gay!Regulartease.Ah,IrememberlasttimeIsawher.IwasasubalternjustofftoIndia.Wewereatamoonlightpicniconthebeach…SheandIwanderedawaytogetherandsatonarocklookingatthesea.”
Tommylookedathimwithgreatinterest.Athisdoublechins,hisbaldhead,hisbushyeyebrowsandhisenormouspaunch.HethoughtofAuntAda,ofherincipientmoustache,hergrimsmile,heriron-greyhair,hermaliciousglance.Time,hethought.WhatTimedoestoone!Hetriedtovisualizeahandsomeyoungsubalternandaprettygirlinthemoonlight.Hefailed.
“Romantic,”saidSirJosiahPennwithadeepsigh.“Ahyes,romantic.Iwouldhavelikedtoproposetoherthatnight,butyoucouldn’tproposeifyouwereasubaltern.Notonyourpay.We’dhavehadtowaitfiveyearsbeforewecouldbemarried.Thatwastoolonganengagementtoaskanygirltoagreeto.Ahwell!youknowhowthingshappen.IwentouttoIndiaanditwasalongtimebeforeIcamehomeonleave.Wewrotetooneanotherforabit,thenthingsslackedoff.Asitusuallyhappens.Ineversawheragain.Andyet,youknow,Ineverquiteforgother.Oftenthoughtofher.IrememberInearlywrotetoheronce,yearslater.I’dheardshewasintheneighbourhoodwhereIwasstayingwithsomepeople.IthoughtI’dgoandseeher,askifIcouldcall.ThenIthoughttomyself“Don’tbeadamn’fool.Sheprobablylooksquitedifferentbynow.”
“Iheardachapmentionhersomeyearslater.Saidshewasoneoftheugliestwomenhe’deverseen.IcouldhardlybelieveitwhenIheardhimsaythat,butIthinknowperhapsIwasluckyIneverdidseeheragain.What’sshedoingnow?Alivestill?”
“No.Shediedabouttwoorthreeweeksago,asamatteroffact,”saidTommy
“Didshereally,didshereally?Yes,Isupposeshe’dbe—whatnow,she’dbeseventy-fiveorseventy-six?Bitolderthanthatperhaps.”
“Shewaseighty,”saidTommy.
“Fancynow.Dark-hairedlivelyAda.Wheredidshedie?Wassheinanursinghomeordidshelivewithacompanionor—shenevermarried,didshe?”
“No,”saidTommy,“shenevermarried.Shewasinanoldladies’home.Ratheraniceone,asamatteroffact.SunnyRidge,it’scalled.”
“Yes,I’veheardofthat.SunnyRidge.Someonemysisterknewwasthere,Ibelieve.AMrs.—nowwhatwasthename—aMrs.Carstairs?D’youevercomeacrossher?”
“No.Ididn’tcomeacrossanyonemuchthere.Onejustusedtogoandvisitone’sownparticularrelative.”
“Difficultbusiness,too,Ithink.Imean,oneneverknowswhattosaytothem.”
“AuntAdawasparticularlydifficult,”saidTommy.“Shewasatartar,youknow.”
“Shewouldbe.”TheGeneralchuckled.“Shecouldbearegularlittledevilwhenshelikedwhenshewasagirl.”
Hesighed.
“Devilishbusiness,gettingold.Oneofmysister’sfriendsusedtogetfancies,pooroldthing.Usedtosayshe’dkilledsomebody.”
“GoodLord,”saidTommy.“Hadshe?”
“Oh,Idon’tsupposeso.Nobodyseemstothinkshehad.Isuppose,”saidtheGeneral,consideringtheideathoughtfully,“Isupposeshemighthave,youknow.Ifyougoaboutsayingthingslikethatquitecheerfully,nobodywouldbelieveyou,wouldthey?Entertainingthoughtthat,isn’tit?”
“Whodidshethinkshe’dkilled?”
“BlessedifIknow.Husbandperhaps?Don’tknowwhohewasorwhathewaslike.Shewasawidowwhenwefirstcametoknowher.Well,”headdedwithasigh,“sorrytohearaboutAda.Didn’tseeitinthepaper.IfIhadI’dhavesentflowersorsomething.Bunchofrosebudsorsomethingofthatkind.That’swhatgirlsusedtowearontheireveningdresses.Abunchofrosebudsontheshoulderofaneveningdress.Veryprettyitwas.IrememberAdahadaneveningdress—sortofhydrangeacolour,mauvy.Mauvy-blueandshehadpinkrosebudsonit.Shegavemeoneonce.Theyweren’treal,ofcourse.Artificial.Ikeptitforalongtime—years.Iknow,”headded,catchingTommy’seye,“makesyoulaughtothinkofit,doesn’tit.Itellyou,myboy,whenyougetreallyoldandgagalikeIam,yougetsentimentalagain.Well,IsupposeI’dbettertoddleoffandgobacktothelastactofthisridiculousshow.BestregardstoMrs.T.whenyougethome.”
Inthetrainthenextday,Tommythoughtbackoverthisconversation,smilingtohimselfandtryingagaintopicturehisredoubtableauntandthefierceMajorGeneralintheiryoungdays.
“ImusttellTuppencethis.It’llmakeherlaugh,”saidTommy.“IwonderwhatTuppencehasbeendoingwhileI’vebeenaway?”
Hesmiledtohimself.
II
ThefaithfulAlbertopenedthefrontdoorwithabeamingsmileofwelcome.
“Gladtoseeyouback,sir.”
“I’mgladtobeback—”Tommysurrenderedhissuitcase—“Where’sMrs.Beresford?”
“Notbackyet,sir.”
“Doyoumeanshe’saway?”
“Beenawaythreeorfourdays.Butshe’llbebackfordinner.Sherangupyesterdayandsaidso.”
“What’ssheupto,Albert?”
“Icouldn’tsay,sir.Shetookthecar,butshetookalotofrailwayguidesaswell.Shemightbeanywhere,asyoumightsay.”
“Youmightindeed,”saidTommywithfeeling.“Johno’Groat’s—orLand’sEnd—andprobablymissedtheconnectionatLittleDitherontheMarshonthewayback.GodblessBritishRailways.Sherangupyesterday,yousay.Didshesaywhereshewasringingfrom?”
“Shedidn’tsay.”
“Whattimeyesterdaywasthis?”
“Yesterdaymorning.Beforelunch.Justsaideverythingwasallright.Shewasn’tquitesureofwhattimeshe’dgethome,butshethoughtshe’dbebackwellbeforedinnerandsuggestedachicken.Thatdoyouallright,sir?”
“Yes,”saidTommy,regardinghiswatch,“butshe’llhavetomakeitprettyquicklynow.”
“I’llholdthechickenback,”saidAlbert.
Tommygrinned.“That’sright,”hesaid.“Catchitbythetail.How’veyoubeen,Albert?Allwellathome?”
“Hadascareofmeasles—Butit’sallright.Doctorsaysit’sonlystrawberryrash.”
“Good,”saidTommy.Hewentupstairs,whistlingatunetohimself.Hewentintothebathroom,shavedandwashed,strodefromthereintothebedroomandlookedaroundhim.Ithadthatcuriouslookofdisoccupancysomebedroomsputonwhentheirownerisaway.Itsatmospherewascoldandunfriendly.Everythingwasscrupulouslytidyandscrupulouslyclean.Tommyhadthedepressedfeelingthatafaithfuldogmighthavehad.Lookingroundhim,hethoughtitwasasthoughTuppencehadneverbeen.Nospilledpowder,nobookcastdownopenwithitsbacksplayedout.
“Sir.”
ItwasAlbert,standinginthedoorway.
“Well?”
“I’mgettingworriedaboutthechicken.”
“Ohdamnthechicken,”saidTommy.“Youseemtohavethatchickenonyournerves.”
“Well,Itookitasyouandshewouldn’tbelaterthaneight.Notlaterthaneight,sittingdown,Imean.”
“Ishouldhavethoughtso,too,”saidTommy,glancingathiswristwatch.“GoodLord,isitnearlyfiveandtwentytonine?”
“Yesitis,sir.Andthechicken—”
“Oh,comeon,”saidTommy,“yougetthatchickenoutoftheovenandyouandI’lleatitbetweenus.ServeTuppenceright.Gettingbackwellbeforedinnerindeed!”
“Ofcoursesomepeopledoeatdinnerlate,”saidAlbert.“IwenttoSpainonceandbelieveme,youcouldn’tgetamealbeforeteno’clock.Tenp.m.Iaskyou!Heathens!”
“Allright,”saidTommy,absentmindedly.“Bytheway,haveyounoideawhereshehasbeenallthistime?”
“Youmeanthemissus?Idunno,sir.Rushingaround,I’dsay.Herfirstideawasgoingtoplacesbytrain,asfarasIcanmakeout.ShewasalwayslookinginA.B.C.sandtimetablesandthings.”
“Well,”saidTommy,“weallhaveourwaysofamusingourselves,Isuppose.Hersseemstohavebeenrailwaytravel.Iwonderwheresheisallthesame.SittingintheLadies’WaitingRoomatLittleDitherontheMarsh,aslikelyasnot.”
“Sheknewasyouwascominghometodaythough,didn’tshe,sir?”saidAlbert.“She’llgetheresomehow.Sureto.”
Tommyperceivedthathewasbeingofferedloyalallegiance.HeandAlbertwerelinkedtogetherinexpressingdisapprobationofaTuppencewhointhecourseofherflirtationswithBritishRailwayswasneglectingtocomehomeintimetogiveareturninghusbandhisproperwelcome.
Albertwentawaytoreleasethechickenfromitspossiblefateofcremationintheoven.
Tommy,whohadbeenabouttofollowhim,stoppedandlookedtowardsthemantelpiece.Hewalkedslowlytoitandlookedatthepicturethathungthere.Funny,herbeingsosurethatshehadseenthatparticularhousebefore.Tommyfeltquitecertainthathehadn’tseenit.Anyway,itwasquiteanordinaryhouse.Theremustbeplentyofhouseslikethat.
Hestretchedupasfarashecouldtowardsitandthen,stillnotabletogetagoodview,unhookeditandtookitclosetotheelectriclamp.Aquiet,gentlehouse.Therewastheartist’ssignature.ThenamebeganwithaBthoughhecouldn’tmakeoutexactlywhatthenamewas.Bosworth—Bouchier—He’dgetamagnifyingglassandlookatitmoreclosely.Amerrychimeofcowbellscamefromthehall.AlberthadhighlyapprovedoftheSwisscowbellsthatTommyandTuppencehadbroughtbacksometimeorotherfromGrindelwald.Hewassomethingofavirtuosoonthem.Dinnerwasserved.Tommywenttothediningroom.Itwasodd,hethought,thatTuppencehadn’tturnedupbynow.Evenifshehadhadapuncture,whichseemedprobable,heratherwonderedthatshehadn’trunguptoexplainorexcuseherdelay.
“ShemightknowthatI’dworry,”saidTommytohimself.Not,ofcourse,thatheeverdidworry—notaboutTuppence.Tuppencewasalwaysallright.Albertcontradictedthismood.
“Hopeshehasn’thadanaccident,”heremarked,presentingTommywithadishofcabbage,andshakinghisheadgloomily.
“Takethataway.YouknowIhatecabbage,”saidTommy.“Whyshouldshehavehadanaccident?It’sonlyhalfpastninenow.”
“Beingontheroadisplainmurdernowadays,”saidAlbert.“Anyonemighthaveanaccident.”
Thetelephonebellrang.“That’sher,”saidAlbert.Hastilyreposingthedishofcabbageonthesideboard,hehurriedoutoftheroom.Tommyrose,abandoninghisplateofchicken,andfollowedAlbert.Hewasjustsaying“Here,I’lltakeit,”whenAlbertspoke.
“Yes,sir?Yes,Mr.Beresfordisathome.Hereheisnow.”HeturnedhisheadtoTommy.“It’saDr.Murrayforyou,sir.”
“Dr.Murray?”Tommythoughtforamoment.Thenameseemedfamiliarbutforthemomenthecouldn’trememberwhoDr.Murraywas.IfTuppencehadhadanaccident—andthenwithasighofreliefherememberedthatDr.MurrayhadbeenthedoctorwhoattendedtheoldladiesatSunnyRidge.Something,perhaps,todowithAuntAda’sfuneralforms.Truechildofhistime,Tommyimmediatelyassumedthatitmustbeaquestionofsomeformorother—somethingheoughttohavesigned,orDr.Murrayoughttohavesigned.
“Hullo,”hesaid,“Beresfordhere.”
“Oh,I’mgladtocatchyou.Yourememberme,Ihope.Iattendedyouraunt,MissFanshawe.”
“Yes,ofcourseIremember.WhatcanIdo?”
“Ireallywantedtohaveawordortwowithyousometime.Idon’tknowifwecanarrangeameeting,perhapsintownoneday?”
“OhIexpectso,yes.Quiteeasily.But—er—isitsomethingyoucan’tsayoverthephone?”
“I’drathernotsayitoverthetelephone.There’snoimmediatehurry.Iwon’tpretendthereisbut—butIshouldliketohaveachatwithyou.”
“Nothingwrong?”saidTommy,andwonderedwhyheputitthatway.Whyshouldtherebeanythingwrong?
“Notreally.Imaybemakingamountainoutofamolehill.Probablyam.ButtherehavebeensomerathercuriousdevelopmentsatSunnyRidge.”
“NothingtodowithMrs.Lancaster,isit?”askedTommy.
“Mrs.Lancaster?”Thedoctorseemedsurprised.“Ohno.Sheleftsometimeago.Infact—beforeyourauntdied.Thisissomethingquitedifferent.”
“I’vebeenaway—onlyjustgotback.MayIringyouuptomorrowmorning—wecouldfixsomethingthen.”
“Right.I’llgiveyoumytelephonenumber.Ishallbeatmysurgeryuntiltena.m.”
“Badnews?”askedAlbertasTommyreturnedtothediningroom.
“ForGod’ssake,don’tcroak,Albert,”saidTommyirritably.“No—ofcourseitisn’tbadnews.”
“Ithoughtperhapsthemissus—”
“She’sallright,”saidTommy.“Shealwaysis.Probablygoneharingoffaftersomewildcatclueorother—Youknowwhatshe’slike.I’mnotgoingtoworryanymore.Takeawaythisplateofchicken—You’vebeenkeepingithotintheovenandit’sinedible.Bringmesomecoffee.AndthenI’mgoingtobed
“Therewillprobablybealettertomorrow.Delayedinthepost—youknowwhatourpostsarelike—ortherewillbeawirefromher—orshe’llringup.”
Buttherewasnoletternextday—notelephonecall—nowire.
AlberteyedTommy,openedhismouthandshutitagainseveraltimes,judgingquiterightlythatgloomypredictionsonhispartwouldnotbewelcomed.
AtlastTommyhadpityonhim.Heswallowedalastmouthfuloftoastandmarmalade,washeditdownwithcoffee,andspoke—
“Allright,Albert,I’llsayitfirst—Whereisshe?What’shappenedtoher?Andwhatarewegoingtodoaboutit?”
“Getontothepolice,sir?”
“I’mnotsure.Yousee—”Tommypaused.
“Ifshe’shadanaccident—”
“She’sgotherdrivinglicenceonher—andplentyofidentifyingpapers—Hospitalsareverypromptatreportingthesethings—andgettingintouchwithrelatives—allthat.Idon’twanttobeprecipitate—she—shemightn’twantit.You’venoidea—noideaatall,Albert,whereshewasgoing—Nothingshesaid?Noparticularplace—orcounty.Notamentionofsomename?”
Albertshookhishead.
“Whatwasshefeelinglike?Pleased?—Excited?Unhappy?Worried?”
Albert’sresponsewasimmediate.
“PleasedasPunch—Burstingwithit.”
“Likeaterrieroffonthetrail,”saidTommy.
“That’sright,sir—youknowhowshegets—”
“Ontosomething—NowIwonder—”Tommypausedinconsideration.
Somethinghadturnedup,and,ashehadjustsaidtoAlbert,Tuppencehadrushedofflikeaterrieronthescent.Thedaybeforeyesterdayshehadrunguptoannounceherreturn.Why,then,hadn’tshereturned?Perhaps,atthismoment,thoughtTommy,she’ssittingsomewheretellingliestopeoplesohardthatshecan’tthinkofanythingelse!
Ifshewereengrossedinpursuit,shewouldbeextremelyannoyedifhe,Tommy,weretorushofftothepolicebleatinglikeasheepthathiswifehaddisappeared—HecouldhearTuppencesaying“Howyoucouldbesofatuousastodosuchathing!Icanlookaftermyselfperfectly.Yououghttoknowthatbythistime!”(Butcouldshelookafterherself?)
OnewasneverquitesurewhereTuppence’simaginationcouldtakeher.
Intodanger?Therehadn’t,sofar,beenanyevidenceofdangerinthisbusiness—Except,asaforesaid,inTuppence’simagination
Ifheweretogotothepolice,sayinghiswifehadnotreturnedhomeassheannouncedshewasgoingtodo—Thepolicewouldsitthere,lookingtactfulthoughpossiblygrinninginwardly,andwouldthenpresumably,stillinatactfulway,askwhatmenfriendshiswifehadgot!
“I’llfindhermyself,”declaredTommy.“She’ssomewhere.Whetherit’snorth,south,eastorwestI’venoidea—andshewasasillycuckoonottoleavewordwhensherangup,whereshewas.”
“Agang’sgother,perhaps—”saidAlbert.
“Oh!beyourage,Albert,you’veoutgrownthatsortofstuffyearsago!”
“Whatareyougoingtodo,sir?”
“I’mgoingtoLondon,”saidTommy,glancingattheclock.“FirstI’mgoingtohavelunchatmyclubwithDr.Murraywhorangmeuplastnight,andwho’sgotsomethingtosaytomeaboutmylatedeceasedaunt’saffairs—Imightpossiblygetausefulhintfromhim—Afterall,thisbusinessstartedatSunnyRidge.Iamalsotakingthatpicturethat’shangingoverourbedroommantelpieceupwithme—”
“Youmeanyou’retakingittoScotlandYard?”
“No,”saidTommy.“I’mtakingittoBondStreet.”
Eleven
BONDSTREETANDDR.MURRAY
Tommyjumpedoutofataxi,paidthedriverandleanedbackintothecabtotakeoutaratherclumsilydoneupparcelwhichwasclearlyapicture.Tuckingasmuchofitashecouldunderhisarm,heenteredtheNewAthenianGalleries,oneofthelongestestablishedandmostimportantpicturegalleriesinLondon.
TommywasnotagreatpatronoftheartsbuthehadcometotheNewAthenianbecausehehadafriendwhoofficiatedthere.
“Officiated”wastheonlywordtousebecausetheairofsympatheticinterest,thehushedvoice,thepleasurablesmile,allseemedhighlyecclesiastical.
Afair-hairedyoungmandetachedhimselfandcameforward,hisfacelightingupwithasmileofrecognition.
“Hullo,Tommy,”hesaid.“Haven’tseenyouforalongtime.What’sthatyou’vegotunderyourarm?Don’ttellmeyou’vebeentakingtopaintingpicturesinyouroldage?Alotofpeopledo—resultsusuallydeplorable.”
“Idoubtifcreativeartwasevermylongsuit,”saidTommy.“ThoughImustadmitIfoundmyselfstronglyattractedtheotherdaybyasmallbooktellinginthesimplesttermshowachildoffivecanlearntopaintinwatercolours.”
“Godhelpusifyou’regoingtotaketothat.GrandmaMosesinreverse.”
“Totellyouthetruth,Robert,Imerelywanttoappealtoyourexpertknowledgeofpictures.Iwantyouropiniononthis.”
DeftlyRoberttookthepicturefromTommyandskilfullyremoveditsclumsywrappingswiththeexpertiseofamanaccustomedtohandletheparcellingupanddeparcellingofalldifferent-sizedworksofart.Hetookthepictureandsetitonachair,peeredintoittolookatit,andthenwithdrewfiveorsixstepsaway.HeturnedhisgazetowardsTommy.
“Well,”hesaid,“whataboutit?Whatdoyouwanttoknow?Doyouwanttosellit,isthatit?”
“No,”saidTommy,“Idon’twanttosellit,Robert.Iwanttoknowaboutit.Tobeginwith,Iwanttoknowwhopaintedit.”
“Actually,”saidRobert,“ifyouhadwantedtosellit,itwouldbequitesaleablenowadays.Itwouldn’thavebeen,tenyearsago.ButBoscowan’sjustcomingintofashionagain.”
“Boscowan?”Tommylookedathiminquiringly.“Isthatthenameoftheartist?IsawitwassignedwithsomethingbeginningwithBbutIcouldn’treadthename.”
“Oh,it’sBoscowanallright.Verypopularpainterabouttwenty-fiveyearsago.Soldwell,hadplentyofshows.Peopleboughthimallright.Technicallyaverygoodpainter.Then,intheusualcycleofevents,hewentoutoffashion.Finally,hardlyanydemandatallforhisworksbutlatelyhe’shadarevival.He,Stitchwort,andFondella.They’reallcomingup.”
“Boscowan,”repeatedTommy.
“B-o-s-c-o-w-a-n,”saidRobertobligingly.
“Ishestillpainting?”
“No.He’sdead.Diedsomeyearsago.Quiteanoldchapbythen.Sixty-five,Ithink,whenhedied.Quiteaprolificpainter,youknow.Alotofhiscanvasesabout.Actuallywe’rethinkingofhavingashowofhimhereinaboutfourorfivemonths’time.Weoughttodowelloverit,Ithink.Whyareyousointerestedinhim?”
“It’dbetoolongastorytotellyou,”saidTommy.“OneofthesedaysI’llaskyououttolunchandgiveyouthedoingsfromthebeginning.It’salong,complicatedandreallyratheranidioticstory.AllIwantedtoknowisallaboutthisBoscowanandifyouhappentoknowbyanychancewherethishouseisthat’srepresentedhere.”
“Icouldn’ttellyouthelastforamoment.It’sthesortofthinghedidpaint,youknow.Smallcountryhousesinratherisolatedspotsusually,sometimesafarmhouse,sometimesjustacowortwoaround.Sometimesafarmcart,butifso,inthefardistance.Quietruralscenes.Nothingsketchyormessy.Sometimesthesurfacelooksalmostlikeenamel.Itwasapeculiartechniqueandpeoplelikedit.AgoodmanyofthethingshepaintedwereinFrance,Normandymostly.Churches.I’vegotonepictureofhisherenow.WaitaminuteandI’llgetitforyou.”
Hewenttotheheadofthestaircaseandshouteddowntosomeonebelow.Presentlyhecamebackholdingasmallcanvaswhichheproppedonanotherchair.
“Thereyouare,”hesaid.“ChurchinNormandy.”
“Yes,”saidTommy,“Isee.Thesamesortofthing.Mywifesaysnobodyeverlivedinthathouse—theoneIbroughtin.Iseenowwhatshemeant.Idon’tseethatanybodywasattendingserviceinthatchurchoreverwill.”
“Well,perhapsyourwife’sgotsomething.Quiet,peacefuldwellingswithnohumanoccupancy.Hedidn’toftenpaintpeople,youknow.Sometimesthere’safigureortwointhelandscape,butmoreoftennot.InawayIthinkthatgivesthemtheirspecialcharm.Asortofisolationistfeeling.Itwasasthoughheremovedallthehumanbeings,andthepeaceofthecountrysidewasallthebetterwithoutthem.Cometothinkofit,that’smaybewhythegeneraltastehasswungroundtohim.Toomanypeoplenowadays,toomanycars,toomanynoisesontheroad,toomuchnoiseandbustle.Peace,perfectpeace.LeaveitalltoNature.”
“Yes,Ishouldn’twonder.Whatsortofamanwashe?”
“Ididn’tknowhimpersonally.Beforemytime.Pleasedwithhimselfbyallaccounts.Thoughthewasabetterpainterthanhewas,probably.Putonabitofside.Kindly,quitelikeable.Eyeforthegirls.”
“Andyou’venoideawherethisparticularpieceofcountrysideexists?ItisEngland,Isuppose.”
“Ishouldthinkso,yes.Doyouwantmetofindoutforyou?”
“Couldyou?”
“Probablythebestthingtodowouldbetoaskhiswife,hiswidowrather.HemarriedEmmaWing,thesculptor.Wellknown.Notveryproductive.Doesquitepowerfulwork.Youcouldgoandaskher.ShelivesinHampstead.Icangiveyoutheaddress.We’vebeencorrespondingwithheragooddeallatelyoverthequestionofthisshowofherhusband’sworkwe’redoing.We’rehavingafewofhersmallerpiecesofsculptureaswell.I’llgettheaddressforyou.”
Hewenttothedesk,turnedoveraledger,scrawledsomethingonacardandbroughtitback.
“Thereyouare,Tommy,”hesaid.“Idon’tknowwhatthedeepdarkmysteryis.Alwaysbeenamanofmystery,haven’tyou?It’sanicerepresentationofBoscowan’sworkyou’vegotthere.Wemightliketouseitfortheshow.I’llsendyoualinetoremindyounearerthetime.”
“Youdon’tknowaMrs.Lancaster,doyou?”
“Well,Ican’tthinkofoneoff-hand.Issheanartistorsomethingofthekind?”
“No,Idon’tthinkso.She’sjustanoldladylivingforthelastfewyearsinanoldladies’home.Shecomesintoitbecausethispicturebelongedtoheruntilshegaveitawaytoanauntofmine.”
“WellIcan’tsaythenamemeansanythingtome.BettergoandtalktoMrs.Boscowan.”
“What’sshelike?”
“Shewasagoodbityoungerthanhewas,Ishouldsay.Quiteapersonality.”Henoddedhisheadonceortwice.“Yes,quiteapersonality.You’llfindthatoutIexpect.”
Hetookthepicture,handeditdownthestaircasewithinstructionstosomeonebelowtodoitupagain.
“Niceforyouhavingsomanymyrmidonsatyourbeckandcall,”saidTommy.
Helookedroundhim,noticinghissurroundingsforthefirsttime.
“What’sthisyou’vegotherenow?”hesaidwithdistaste.
“PaulJaggerowski—InterestingyoungSlav.Saidtoproduceallhisworksundertheinfluenceofdrugs—Don’tyoulikehim?”
Tommyconcentratedhisgazeonabigstringbagwhichseemedtohaveenmesheditselfinametallicgreenfieldfullofdistortedcows.
“Frankly,no.”
“Philistine,”saidRobert.“Comeoutandhaveabiteoflunch.”
“Can’t.I’vegotameetingwithadoctoratmyclub.”
“Notill,areyou?”
“I’minthebestofhealth.MybloodpressureissogoodthatitdisappointseverydoctortowhomIsubmitit.”
“Thenwhatdoyouwanttoseeadoctorfor?”
“Oh,”saidTommycheerfully—“I’vejustgottoseeadoctoraboutabody.Thanksforyourhelp.Goodbye.”
II
TommygreetedDr.Murraywithsomecuriosity—HepresumeditwassomeformalmattertodowithAuntAda’sdecease,butwhyonearthDr.Murraywouldnotatleastmentionthesubjectofhisvisitoverthetelephone,Tommycouldn’timagine.
“I’mafraidI’malittlelate,”saidDr.Murray,shakinghands,“butthetrafficwasprettybadandIwasn’texactlysureofthelocality.Idon’tknowthispartofLondonverywell.”
“Well,toobadyouhadtocomeallthewayhere,”saidTommy.“Icouldhavemetyousomewheremoreconvenient,youknow.”
“You’vetimeonyourhandsthenjustnow?”
“Justatthemoment,yes.I’vebeenawayforthelastweek.”
“Yes,IbelievesomeonetoldmesowhenIrangup.”
Tommyindicatedachair,suggestedrefreshment,placedcigarettesandmatchesbyDr.Murray’sside.WhenthetwomenhadestablishedthemselvescomfortablyDr.Murrayopenedtheconversation.
“I’msureI’vearousedyourcuriosity,”hesaid,“butasamatteroffactwe’reinaspotoftroubleatSunnyRidge.It’sadifficultandperplexingmatterandinonewayit’snothingtodowithyou.I’venoearthlyrighttotroubleyouwithitbutthere’sjustanoffchancethatyoumightknowsomethingwhichwouldhelpme.”
“Well,ofcourse,I’lldoanythingIcan.Somethingtodowithmyaunt,MissFanshawe?”
“Notdirectly,no.Butinawayshedoescomeintoit.Icanspeaktoyouinconfidence,can’tI,Mr.Beresford?”
“Yes,certainly.”
“AsamatteroffactIwastalkingtheotherdaytoamutualfriendofours.Hewastellingmeafewthingsaboutyou.Igatherthatinthelastwaryouhadratheradelicateassignment.”
“Oh,Iwouldn’tputitquiteasseriouslyasthat,”saidTommy,inhismostnoncommittalmanner.
“Ohno,Iquiterealizethatit’snotathingtobetalkedabout.”
“Idon’treallythinkthatmattersnowadays.It’sagoodlongtimesincethewar.MywifeandIwereyoungerthen.”
“Anyway,it’snothingtodowiththat,thatIwanttotalktoyouabout,butatleastIfeelthatIcanspeakfranklytoyou,thatIcantrustyounottorepeatwhatIamnowsaying,thoughit’spossiblethatitallmayhavetocomeoutlater.”
“AspotoftroubleatSunnyRidge,yousay?”
“Yes.Notverylongagooneofourpatientsdied.AMrs.Moody.Idon’tknowifyouevermetherorifyourauntevertalkedabouther.”
“Mrs.Moody?”Tommyreflected.“No,Idon’tthinkso.Anyway,notsofarasIremember.”
“Shewasnotoneofourolderpatients.Shewasstillontherightsideofseventyandshewasnotseriouslyillinanyway.Itwasjustacaseofawomanwithnonearrelativesandnoonetolookafterherinthedomesticline.ShefellintothecategoryofwhatIoftencalltomyselfaflutterer.Womenwhomoreandmoreresemblehensastheygrowolder.Theycluck.Theyforgetthings.Theyrunthemselvesintodifficultiesandtheyworry.Theygetthemselveswroughtupaboutnothingatall.Thereisverylittlethematterwiththem.Theyarenotstrictlyspeakingmentallydisturbed.”
“Buttheyjustcluck,”Tommysuggested.
“Asyousay.Mrs.Moodyclucked.Shecausedthenursesafairamountoftroublealthoughtheywerequitefondofher.Shehadahabitofforgettingwhenshe’dhadhermeals,makingafussbecausenodinnerhadbeenservedtoherwhenasamatteroffactshehadactuallyjusteatenaverygooddinner.”
“Oh,”saidTommy,enlightened,“Mrs.Cocoa.”
“Ibegyourpardon?”
“I’msorry,”saidTommy,“it’sanamemywifeandIhadforher.ShewasyellingforNurseJaneonedaywhenwepassedalongthepassageandsayingshehadn’thadhercocoa.Ratheranice-lookingscattylittlewoman.Butitmadeusbothlaugh,andwefellintothehabitofcallingherMrs.Cocoa.Andsoshe’sdied.”
“Iwasn’tparticularlysurprisedwhenthedeathhappened,”saidDr.Murray.“Tobeabletoprophesywithanyexactitudewhenelderlywomenwilldieispracticallyimpossible.Womenwhosehealthisseriouslyaffected,who,onefeelsasaresultofphysicalexamination,willhardlylasttheyearout,sometimesaregoodforanothertenyears.Theyhaveatenaciousholdonlifewhichmerephysicaldisabilitywillnotquench.Thereareotherpeoplewhosehealthisreasonablygoodandwhomay,onethinks,makeoldbones.Theyontheotherhand,catchbronchitis,or’flu,seemunabletohavethestaminatorecuperatefromit,anddiewithsurprisingease.So,asIsay,asamedicalattendanttoanelderlyladies’home,Iamnotsurprisedwhenwhatmightbecalledafairlyunexpecteddeathoccurs.ThiscaseofMrs.Moody,however,wassomewhatdifferent.ShediedinhersleepwithouthavingexhibitedanysignofillnessandIcouldnothelpfeelingthatinmyopinionherdeathwasunexpected.IwillusethephrasethathasalwaysintriguedmeinShakespeare’splay,Macbeth.IhavealwayswonderedwhatMacbethmeantwhenhesaidofhiswife,‘Sheshouldhavediedhereafter.’”
“Yes,IrememberwonderingoncemyselfwhatShakespearewasgettingat,”saidTommy.“IforgetwhoseproductionitwasandwhowasplayingMacbeth,buttherewasastrongsuggestioninthatparticularproduction,andMacbethcertainlyplayeditinawaytosuggestthathewashintingtothemedicalattendantthatLadyMacbethwouldbebetteroutoftheway.Presumablythemedicalattendanttookthehint.ItwasthenthatMacbeth,feelingsafeafterhiswife’sdeath,feelingthatshecouldnolongerdamagehimbyherindiscretionsorherrapidlyfailingmind,expresseshisgenuineaffectionandgriefforher.‘Sheshouldhavediedhereafter.’”
“Exactly,”saidDr.Murray.“ItiswhatIfeltaboutMrs.Moody.Ifeltthatsheshouldhavediedhereafter.Notjustthreeweeksagoofnoapparentcause—”
Tommydidnotreply.Hemerelylookedatthedoctorinquiringly.
“Medicalmenhavecertainproblems.Ifyouarepuzzledoverthecauseofapatient’sdeaththereisonlyonesurewaytotell.Byapostmortem.Postmortemsarenotappreciatedbyrelativesofthedeceased,butifadoctordemandsapostmortemandtheresultis,asitperfectlywellmaybe,acaseofnaturalcauses,orsomediseaseormaladywhichdoesnotalwaysgiveoutwardsignsorsymptoms,thenthedoctor’scareercanbequiteseriouslyaffectedbyhishavingmadeaquestionablediagnosis—”
“Icanseethatitmusthavebeendifficult.”
“Therelativesinquestionaredistantcousins.SoItookituponmyselftogettheirconsentasitwasamatterofmedicalinteresttoknowthecauseofdeath.Whenapatientdiesinhersleepitisadvisabletoaddtoone’smedicalknowledge.Iwrappeditupagoodbit,mindyou,didn’tmakeittooformal.Luckilytheycouldn’tcareless.Ifeltveryrelievedinmind.Oncetheautopsyhadbeenperformedandifallwaswell,Icouldgiveadeathcertificatewithoutaqualm.Anyonecandieofwhatisamateurishlycalledheartfailure,fromoneofseveraldifferentcauses.ActuallyMrs.Moody’sheartwasinreallyverygoodshapeforherage.Shesufferedfromarthritisandrheumatismandoccasionaltroublewithherliver,butnoneofthesethingsseemedtoaccordwithherpassingawayinhersleep.”
Dr.Murraycametoastop.Tommyopenedhislipsandthenshutthemagain.Thedoctornodded.
“Yes,Mr.Beresford.YoucanseewhereIamtending.Deathhasresultedfromanoverdoseofmorphine.”
“GoodLord!”Tommystaredandtheejaculationescapedhim.
“Yes.Itseemedquiteincredible,buttherewasnogettingawayfromtheanalysis.Thequestionwas:Howwasthatmorphiaadministered?Shewasnotonmorphia.Shewasnotapatientwhosufferedpain.Therewerethreepossibilities,ofcourse.Shemighthavetakenitbyaccident.Unlikely.Shemighthavegotholdofsomeotherpatient’smedicinebymistakebutthatagainisnotparticularlylikely.Patientsarenotentrustedwithsuppliesofmorphia,andwedonotacceptdrugaddictswhomighthaveasupplyofsuchthingsintheirpossession.ItcouldhavebeendeliberatesuicidebutIshouldbeveryslowtoacceptthat.Mrs.Moody,thoughaworrier,wasofaperfectlycheerfuldispositionandIamquitesurehadneverthoughtofendingherlife.Thethirdpossibilityisthatafataloverdosewasdeliberatelyadministeredtoher.Butbywhom,andwhy?Naturally,therearesuppliesofmorphiaandotherdrugswhichMissPackardasaregisteredhospitalnurseandmatron,isperfectlyentitledtohaveinherpossessionandwhichshekeepsinalockedcupboard.Insuchcasesassciaticaorrheumatoidarthritistherecanbesuchsevereanddesperatepainthatmorphiaisoccasionallyadministered.WehavehopedthatwemaycomeacrosssomecircumstanceinwhichMrs.Moodyhadadangerousamountofmorphiaadministeredtoherbymistakeorwhichsheherselftookunderthedelusionthatitwasacureforindigestionorinsomnia.Wehavenotbeenabletofindanysuchcircumstancespossible.Thenextthingwehavedone,atMissPackard’ssuggestionandIagreedwithher,istolookcarefullyintotherecordsofsuchdeathsashavetakenplaceatSunnyRidgeinthelasttwoyears.Therehavenotbeenmanyofthem,Iamgladtosay.Ithinkseveninall,whichisaprettyfairaverageforpeopleofthatagegroup.Twodeathsofbronchitis,perfectlystraightforward,twoofflu,alwaysapossiblekillerduringthewintermonthsowingtotheslightresistanceofferedbyfrail,elderlywomen.Andthreeothers.”
Hepausedandsaid,“Mr.Beresford,Iamnotsatisfiedaboutthosethreeothers,certainlynotabouttwoofthem.Theywereperfectlyprobable,theywerenotunexpected,butIwillgoasfarassayingthattheywereunlikely.TheyarenotcasesthatonreflectionandresearchIamentirelysatisfiedabout.Onehastoacceptthepossibilitythat,unlikelyasitseems,thereissomeoneatSunnyRidgewhois,possiblyformentalreasons,akiller.Anentirelyunsuspectedkiller.”
Therewassilenceforsomemoments.Tommygaveasigh.
“Idon’tdoubtwhatyou’vetoldme,”hesaid,“butallthesame,frankly,itseemsunbelievable.Thesethings—surely,theycan’thappen.”
“Ohyes,”saidDr.Murraygrimly,“theyhappenallright.Yougooversomeofthepathologicalcases.Awomanwhotookondomesticservice.Sheworkedasacookinvarioushouseholds.Shewasanice,kind,pleasant-seemingwoman,gaveheremployersfaithfulservice,cookedwell,enjoyedbeingwiththem.Yet,soonerorlater,thingshappened.Usuallyaplateofsandwiches.Sometimespicnicfood.Fornoapparentmotivearsenicwasadded.Twoorthreepoisonedsandwichesamongtherest.Apparentlysheerchancedictatedwhotookandatethem.Thereseemednopersonalvenom.Sometimesnotragedyhappened.Thesamewomanwasthreeorfourmonthsinasituationandtherewasnotraceofillness.Nothing.Thenshelefttogotoanotherjob,andinthatnextjob,withinthreeweeks,twoofthefamilydiedaftereatingbaconforbreakfast.ThefactthatallthesethingshappenedindifferentpartsofEnglandandatirregularintervalsmadeitsometimebeforethepolicegotonhertrack.Sheusedadifferentname,ofcourse,eachtime.Buttherearesomanypleasant,capable,middle-agedwomenwhocancook,itwashardtofindoutwhichparticularwomanitwas.”
“Whydidshedoit?”
“Idon’tthinkanybodyhaseverreallyknown.Therehavebeenseveraldifferenttheories,especiallyofcoursebypsychologists.Shewasasomewhatreligiouswomananditseemspossiblethatsomeformofreligiousinsanitymadeherfeelthatshehadadivinecommandtoridtheworldofcertainpeople,butitdoesnotseemthatsheherselfhadbornethemanypersonalanimus.
“ThentherewastheFrenchwoman,JeanneGebron,whowascalledTheAngelofMercy.Shewassoupsetwhenherneighbourshadillchildren,shehurriedtonursethosechildren.Satdevotedlyattheirbedside.Thereagainitwassometimebeforepeoplediscoveredthatthechildrenshenursedneverrecovered.Insteadtheyalldied.Andwhy?Itistruethatwhenshewasyoungherownchilddied.Sheappearedtobeprostratedwithgrief.Perhapsthatwasthecauseofhercareerofcrime.Ifherchilddiedsoshouldthechildrenofotherwomen.Oritmaybe,assomethought,thatherownchildwasalsooneofthevictims.”
“You’regivingmechillsdownmyspine,”saidTommy.
“I’mtakingthemostmelodramaticexamples,”saidthedoctor.“Itmaybesomethingmuchsimplerthanthat.YourememberinthecaseofArmstrong,anyonewhohadinanywayoffendedhimorinsultedhim,orindeed,ifheeventhoughtanyonehadinsultedhim,thatpersonwasquicklyaskedtoteaandgivenarsenicsandwiches.Asortofintensifiedtouchiness.Hisfirstcrimeswereobviouslymerecrimesforpersonaladvantage.Inheritingofmoney.Theremovalofawifesothathecouldmarryanotherwoman.
“ThentherewasNurseWarrinerwhokeptaHomeforelderlypeople.Theymadeoverwhatmeanstheyhadtoher,andwereguaranteedacomfortableoldageuntildeathcame—Butdeathdidnotdelayverylong.There,too,itwasmorphiathatwasadministered—averykindlywoman,butwithnoscruples—sheregardedherself,Ibelieve,asabenefactor.”
“You’venoidea,ifyoursurmiseaboutthesedeathsistrue,whoitcouldbe?”
“No.Thereseemsnopointerofanykind.Takingtheviewthatthekillerisprobablyinsane,insanityisaverydifficultthingtorecognizeinsomeofitsmanifestations.Isitsomebody,shallwesay,whodislikeselderlypeople,whohadbeeninjuredorhashadherliferuinedorsoshethinks,bysomebodyelderly?Orisitpossiblysomeonewhohasherownideasofmercykillingandthinksthateveryoneoversixtyyearsofageshouldbekindlyexterminated.Itcouldbeanyone,ofcourse.Apatient?Oramemberofthestaff—anurseoradomesticworker?
“IhavediscussedthisatgreatlengthwithMillicentPackardwhorunstheplace.Sheisahighlycompetentwoman,shrewd,businesslike,withkeensupervisionbothofthegueststhereandofherownstaff.SheinsiststhatshehasnosuspicionandnocluewhateverandIamsurethatisperfectlytrue.”
“Butwhycometome?WhatcanIdo?”
“Youraunt,MissFanshawe,wasaresidentthereforsomeyears—shewasawomanofveryconsiderablementalcapacity,thoughsheoftenpretendedotherwise.Shehadunconventionalwaysofamusingherselfbyputtingonanappearanceofsenility.Butshewasactuallyverymuchallthere—WhatIwantyoutotryanddo,Mr.Beresford,istothinkhard—youandyourwife,too—IsthereanythingyoucanrememberthatMissFanshaweeversaidorhinted,thatmightgiveusaclue—Somethingshehadseenornoticed,somethingthatsomeonehadtoldher,somethingthatsheherselfhadthoughtpeculiar.Oldladiesseeandnoticealot,andareallyshrewdonelikeMissFanshawewouldknowasurprisingamountofwhatwentoninaplacelikeSunnyRidge.Theseoldladiesarenotbusy,yousee,theyhaveallthetimeintheworldtolookaroundthemandmakedeductions—andevenjumptoconclusions—thatmayseemfantastic,butaresometimes,surprisingly,entirelycorrect.”
Tommyshookhishead.
“Iknowwhatyoumean—ButIcan’trememberanythingofthatkind.”
“Yourwife’sawayfromhome,Igather.Youdon’tthinkshemightremembersomethingthathadn’tstruckyou?”
“I’llaskher—butIdoubtit.”Hehesitated,thenmadeuphismind.“Lookhere,therewassomethingthatworriedmywife—aboutoneoftheoldladies,aMrs.Lancaster.”
“Mrs.Lancaster?Yes?”
“Mywife’sgotitintoherheadthatMrs.Lancasterhasbeentakenawaybysomeso-calledrelationsverysuddenly.Asamatteroffact,Mrs.Lancastergaveapicturetomyauntasapresent,andmywifefeltthatsheoughttooffertoreturnthepicturetoMrs.Lancaster,soshetriedtogetintouchwithhertoknowifMrs.Lancasterwouldlikethepicturereturnedtoher.”
“Well,thatwasverythoughtfulofMrs.Beresford,I’msure.”
“Onlyshefounditveryhardtogetintouchwithher.Shegottheaddressofthehotelwheretheyweresupposedtobestaying—Mrs.Lancasterandherrelations—butnobodyofthatnamehadbeenstayingthereorhadbookedroomsthere.”
“Oh?Thatwasratherodd.”
“Yes.Tuppencethoughtitwasratherodd,too.TheyhadleftnootherforwardingaddressatSunnyRidge.Infact,wehavemadeseveralattemptstogetintouchwithMrs.Lancaster,orwiththisMrs.—JohnsonIthinkthenamewas—buthavebeenquiteunabletogetintouchwiththem.TherewasasolicitorwhoIbelievepaidallthebills—andmadeallthearrangementswithMissPackardandwegotintocommunicationwithhim.Buthecouldonlygivemetheaddressofabank.Banks,”saidTommydrily,“don’tgiveyouanyinformation.”
“Notifthey’vebeentoldnottobytheirclients,Iagree.”
“MywifewrotetoMrs.Lancastercareofthebank,andalsotoMrs.Johnson,butshe’sneverhadanyreply.”
“Thatseemsalittleunusual.Still,peopledon’talwaysanswerletters.Theymayhavegoneabroad.”
“Quiteso—itdidn’tworryme.Butithasworriedmywife.SheseemsconvincedthatsomethinghashappenedtoMrs.Lancaster.Infact,duringthetimeIwasawayfromhome,shesaidshewasgoingtoinvestigatefurther—Idon’tknowwhatexactlyshemeanttodo,perhapsseethehotelpersonally,orthebank,ortrythesolicitor.Anyway,shewasgoingtotryandgetalittlemoreinformation.”
Dr.Murraylookedathimpolitely,butwithatraceofpatientboredominhismanner.
“Whatdidshethinkexactly—?”
“ShethinksthatMrs.Lancasterisindangerofsomekind—eventhatsomethingmayhavehappenedtoher.”
Thedoctorraisedhiseyebrows.
“Oh!really,Ishouldhardlythink—”
“Thismayseemquiteidiotictoyou,”saidTommy,“butyousee,mywiferangupsayingshewouldbebackyesterdayevening—and—shedidn’tarrive.”
“Shesaiddefinitelythatshewascomingback?”
“Yes.SheknewIwascominghome,yousee,fromthisconferencebusiness.Sosheranguptoletourman,Albert,knowthatshe’dbebacktodinner.”
“Andthatseemstoyouanunlikelythingforhertodo?”saidMurray.HewasnowlookingatTommywithsomeinterest.
“Yes,”saidTommy.“It’sveryunlikeTuppence.Ifshe’dbeendelayedorchangedherplansshewouldhaverungupagainorsentatelegram.”
“Andyou’reworriedabouther?”
“Yes,Iam,”saidTommy.
“H’m!Haveyouconsultedthepolice?”
“No,”saidTommy.“What’dthepolicethink?It’snotasthoughIhadanyreasontobelievethatsheisintroubleordangeroranythingofthatkind.Imean,ifshe’dhadanaccidentorwasinahospital,anythinglikethat,somebodywouldcommunicatewithmesoonenough,wouldn’tthey?”
“Ishouldsayso—yes—ifshehadsomemeansofidentificationonher.”
“She’dhaveherdrivinglicenceonher.Probablylettersandvariousotherthings.”
Dr.Murrayfrowned.
Tommywentoninarush:
“Andnowyoucomealong—AndbringupallthisbusinessofSunnyRidge—Peoplewho’vediedwhentheyoughtn’ttohavedied.Supposingthisoldbeangotontosomething—sawsomething,orsuspectedsomething—andbeganchatteringaboutit—She’dhavetobesilencedinsomeway,soshewaswhiskedoutofitquickly,andtakenofftosomeplaceorotherwhereshewouldn’tbetraced.Ican’thelpfeelingthatthewholethingtiesupsomehow—”
“It’sodd—it’scertainlyodd—Whatdoyouproposetodonext?”
“I’mgoingtodoabitofsearchingmyself—Trythesesolicitorsfirst—Theymaybequiteallright,butI’dliketohavealookatthem,anddrawmyownconclusions.”
Twelve
TOMMYMEETSANOLDFRIEND
Fromtheoppositesideoftheroad,TommysurveyedthepremisesofMessrs.Partingdale,Harris,LockeridgeandPartingdale.
Theylookedeminentlyrespectableandold-fashioned.Thebrassplatewaswellwornbutnicelypolished.Hecrossedthestreetandpassedthroughswingdoorstobegreetedbythemutednoteoftypewritersatfullspeed.
HeaddressedhimselftoanopenmahoganywindowonhisrightwhichborethelegendINQUIRIES—
Insidewasasmallroomwherethreewomenweretypingandtwomaleclerkswerebendingoverdeskscopyingdocuments.
Therewasafaint,mustyatmospherewithadecidedlylegalflavour.
Awomanofthirty-fiveodd,withasevereair,fadedblondehair,andpince-nezrosefromhertypewriterandcametothewindow.
“CanIhelpyou?”
“IwouldliketoseeMr.Eccles.”
Thewoman’sairofseverityredoubled.
“Haveyouanappointment?”
“I’mafraidnot.I’mjustpassingthroughLondontoday.”
“I’mafraidMr.Ecclesisratherbusythismorning.Perhapsanothermemberofthefirm—”
“ItwasMr.EcclesIparticularlywantedtosee.Ihavealreadyhadsomecorrespondencewithhim.”
“OhIsee.Perhapsyou’llgivemeyourname.”
Tommygavehisnameandaddressandtheblondewomanretiredtoconferwiththetelephoneonherdesk.Afteramurmuredconversationshereturned.
“Theclerkwillshowyouintothewaitingroom.Mr.Eccleswillbeabletoseeyouinabouttenminutes’time.”
Tommywasusheredintoawaitingroomwhichhadabookcaseofratherancientandponderous-lookinglawtomesandaroundtablecoveredwithvariousfinancialpapers.Tommysatthereandwentoverinhisownmindhisplannedmethodsofapproach.HewonderedwhatMr.Eccleswouldbelike.WhenhewasshowninatlastandMr.Ecclesrosefromadesktoreceivehim,hedecidedfornoparticularreasonthathecouldnametohimselfthathedidnotlikeMr.Eccles.HealsowonderedwhyhedidnotlikeMr.Eccles.Thereseemednovalidreasonfordislike.Mr.Eccleswasamanofbetweenfortyandfiftywithgreyishhairthinningalittleatthetemples.Hehadalongrathersad-lookingfacewithaparticularlywoodenexpression,shrewdeyes,andquiteapleasantsmilewhichfromtimetotimeratherunexpectedlybrokeupthenaturalmelancholyofhiscountenance.
“Mr.Beresford?”
“Yes.Itisreallyratheratriflingmatter,butmywifehasbeenworriedaboutit.Shewrotetoyou,Ibelieve,orpossiblyshemayhaverungyouup,toknowifyoucouldgivehertheaddressofaMrs.Lancaster.”
“Mrs.Lancaster,”saidMr.Eccles,retainingaperfectpokerface.Itwasnotevenaquestion.Hejustleftthenamehangingintheair.
“Acautiousman,”thoughtTommy,“butthenit’ssecondnatureforlawyerstobecautious.Infact,iftheywereone’sownlawyersonewouldpreferthemtobecautious.”
Hewenton:
“UntillatelylivingataplacecalledSunnyRidge,anestablishment—andaverygoodone—forelderlyladies.Infact,anauntofmyownwasthereandwasextremelyhappyandcomfortable.”
“Ohyes,ofcourse,ofcourse.Iremembernow.Mrs.Lancaster.Sheis,Ithink,nolongerlivingthere?Thatisright,isitnot?”
“Yes,”saidTommy.
“AtthemomentIdonotexactlyrecall—”hestretchedoutahandtowardsthetelephone—“Iwilljustrefreshmymemory—”
“Icantellyouquitesimply,”saidTommy.“MywifewantedMrs.Lancaster’saddressbecauseshehappenstobeinpossessionofapieceofpropertywhichoriginallybelongedtoMrs.Lancaster.Apicture,infact.ItwasgivenbyMrs.Lancasterasapresenttomyaunt,MissFanshawe.Myauntdiedrecently,andherfewpossessionshavecomeintoourkeeping.ThisincludedthepicturewhichwasgivenherbyMrs.Lancaster.Mywifelikesitverymuchbutshefeelsratherguiltyaboutit.ShethinksthatitmaybeapictureMrs.LancastervaluesandinthatcaseshefeelssheoughttooffertoreturnittoMrs.Lancaster.”
“Ah,Isee,”saidMr.Eccles.“Itisveryconscientiousofyourwife,Iamsure.”
“Oneneverknows,”saidTommy,smilingpleasantly,“whatelderlypeoplemayfeelabouttheirpossessions.Shemayhavebeengladformyaunttohaveitsincemyauntadmiredit,butasmyauntdiedverysoonafterhavingreceivedthisgift,itseems,perhaps,alittleunfairthatitshouldpassintothepossessionofstrangers.Thereisnoparticulartitleonthepicture.Itrepresentsahousesomewhereinthecountry.ForallIknowitmaybesomefamilyhouseassociatedwithMrs.Lancaster.”
“Quite,quite,”saidMr.Eccles,“butIdon’tthink—”
TherewasaknockandthedooropenedandaclerkenteredandproducedasheetofpaperwhichheplacedbeforeMr.Eccles.Mr.Eccleslookeddown.
“Ahyes,ahyes,Iremembernow.Yes,IbelieveMrs.—”heglanceddownatTommy’scardlyingonhisdesk—“Beresfordrangupandhadafewwordswithme.IadvisedhertogetintotouchwiththeSouthernCountiesBank,Hammersmithbranch.ThisistheonlyaddressImyselfknow.Lettersaddressedtothebank’saddress,careofMrs.RichardJohnsonwouldbeforwarded.Mrs.Johnsonis,Ibelieve,anieceordistantcousinofMrs.Lancaster’sanditwasMrs.JohnsonwhomadeallthearrangementswithmeforMrs.Lancaster’sreceptionatSunnyRidge.Sheaskedmetomakefullinquiriesabouttheestablishment,sinceshehadonlyheardaboutitcasuallyfromafriend.Wedidso,Icanassureyou,mostcarefully.ItwassaidtobeanexcellentestablishmentandIbelieveMrs.Johnson’srelative,Mrs.Lancaster,spentseveralyearstherequitehappily.”
“Sheleftthere,though,rathersuddenly,”Tommysuggested.
“Yes.Yes,Ibelieveshedid.Mrs.Johnson,itseems,returnedratherunexpectedlyrecentlyfromEastAfrica—somanypeoplehavedoneso!Sheandherhusbandhad,Ibelieve,residedinKenyaformanyyears.Theyweremakingvariousnewarrangementsandfeltabletoassumepersonalcareoftheirelderlyrelative.IamafraidIhavenoknowledgeofMrs.Johnson’spresentwhereabouts.Ihadaletterfromherthankingmeandsettlingaccountssheowed,anddirectingthatiftherewasanynecessityforcommunicatingwithherIshouldaddressmyletterscareofthebankasshewasundecidedasyetwheresheandherhusbandwouldactuallyberesiding.Iamafraid,Mr.Beresford,thatthatisallI
Hismannerwasgentlebutfirm.Itdisplayednoembarrassmentofanykindnordisturbance.Butthefinalityofhisvoicewasverydefinite.Thenheunbentandhismannersoftenedalittle.
“Ishouldn’treallyworry,youknow,Mr.Beresford,”hesaidreassuringly.“Orrather,Ishouldn’tletyourwifeworry.Mrs.Lancaster,Ibelieve,isquiteanoldladyandinclinedtobeforgetful.She’sprobablyforgottenallaboutthispicturethatshegaveaway.Sheis,Ibelieve,seventy-fiveorseventy-sixyearsofage.Oneforgetsveryeasilyatthatage,youknow.”
“Didyouknowherpersonally?”
“No,Ineveractuallymether.”
“ButyouknewMrs.Johnson?”
“Imetherwhenshecamehereoccasionallytoconsultmeastoarrangements.Sheseemedapleasant,businesslikewoman.Quitecompetentinthearrangementsshewasmaking.”Heroseandsaid,“IamsosorryIcan’thelpyou,Mr.Beresford.”
Itwasagentlebutfirmdismissal.
TommycameoutontotheBloomsburystreetandlookedabouthimforataxi.Theparcelhewascarrying,thoughnotheavy,wasofafairlyawkwardsize.Helookedupforamomentatthebuildinghehadjustleft.Eminentlyrespectable,longestablished.Nothingyoucouldfaultthere,nothingapparentlywrongwithMessrs.Partingdale,Harris,LockeridgeandPartingdale,nothingwrongwithMr.Eccles,nosignsofalarmordespondency,noshiftinessoruneasiness.Inbooks,Tommythoughtgloomily,amentionofMrs.LancasterorMrs.Johnsonshouldhavebroughtaguiltystartorashiftyglance.Somethingtoshowthatthenamesregistered,thatallwasnotwell.Thingsdidn’tseemtohappenlikethatinreallife.AllMr.EccleshadlookedlikewasamanwhowastoopolitetoresenthavinghistimewastedbysuchaninquiryasTommyhadjustmade.
Butallthesame,thoughtTommytohimself,Idon’tlikeMr.Eccles.Herecalledtohimselfvaguememoriesofthepast,ofotherpeoplethathehadforsomereasonnotliked.Veryoftenthosehunches—forhunchesisalltheywere—hadbeenright.Butperhapsitwassimplerthanthat.Ifyouhadhadagoodmanydealingsinyourtimewithpersonalities,youhadasortoffeelingaboutthem,justasanexpertantiquedealerknowsinstinctivelythetasteandlookandfeelofaforgerybeforegettingdowntoexperttestsandexaminations.Thethingjustiswrong.Thesamewithpictures.Thesamepresumablywithacashierinabankwhoisofferedafirst-classspuriousbanknote.
“Hesoundsallright,”thoughtTommy.“Helooksallright,hespeaksallright,butallthesame—”Hewavedfranticallyatataxiwhichgavehimadirectandcoldlook,increaseditsspeedanddroveon.“Swine,”thoughtTommy.
Hiseyesrovedupanddownthestreet,seekingforamoreobligingvehicle.Afairamountofpeoplewerewalkingonthepavement.Afewhurrying,somestrolling,onemangazingatabrassplatejustacrosstheroadfromhim.Afteraclosescrutiny,heturnedroundandTommy’seyesopenedalittlewider.Heknewthatface.Hewatchedthemanwalktotheendofthestreet,pause,turnandwalkbackagain.SomebodycameoutofthebuildingbehindTommyandatthatmomentthemanoppositeincreasedhispacealittle,stillwalkingontheothersideoftheroadbutkeepingpacewiththemanwhohadcomeoutofthedoor.ThemanwhohadcomeoutofMessrs.Partingdale,Harris,LockeridgeandPartingdale’sdoorwaywas,Tommythought,lookingafterhisretreatingfigure,almostcertainlyMr.Eccles.Atthesamemomentataxilingeringinapleasanttemptingmanner,camealong.Tommyraisedhishand,thetaxidrewup,heopenedthedoorandgotin.
“Whereto?”
Tommyhesitatedforamoment,lookingathisparcel.Abouttogiveanaddresshechangedhismindandsaid,“14LyonStreet.”
Aquarterofanhourlaterhehadreachedhisdestination.HerangthebellafterpayingoffthetaxiandaskedforMr.IvorSmith.Whenheenteredasecond-floorroom,amansittingatatablefacingthewindow,swungroundandsaidwithfaintsurprise,
“Hullo,Tommy,fancyseeingyou.It’salongtime.Whatareyoudoinghere?Justtoolingroundlookingupyouroldfriends?”
“Notquiteasgoodasthat,Ivor.”
“Isupposeyou’reonyourwayhomeaftertheConference?”
“Yes.”
“Allalotoftheusualtalky-talky,Isuppose?Noconclusionsdrawnandnothinghelpfulsaid.”
“Quiteright.Allasheerwasteoftime.”
“MostlylisteningtooldBogieWaddockshootinghismouthoff,Iexpect.Crashingbore.Getsworseeveryyear.”
“Oh!well—”
Tommysatdowninthechairthatwaspushedtowardshim,acceptedacigarette,andsaid,
“Ijustwondered—it’saverylongshot—whetheryouknowanythingofaderogatorynatureaboutoneEccles,solicitor,ofthefirmofMessrs.Partingdale,Harris,LockeridgeandPartingdale.”
“Well,well,well,”saidthemancalledIvorSmith.Heraisedhiseyebrows.Theywereveryconvenienteyebrowsforraising.Theendofthemnearthenosewentupandtheoppositeendofthecheekwentdownforanalmostastonishingextent.Theymadehimonverylittleprovocationlooklikeamanwhohadhadasevereshock,butactuallyitwasquiteacommongesturewithhim.“RunupagainstEcclessomewherehaveyou?”
“Thetroubleis,”saidTommy,“thatIknownothingabouthim.”
“Andyouwanttoknowsomethingabouthim?”
“Yes.”
“Hm.Whatmadeyoucometoseeme?”
“IsawAndersonoutside.ItwasalongtimesinceI’dseenhimbutIrecognizedhim.Hewaskeepingsomeoneorotherunderobservation.Whoeveritwas,itwassomeoneinthebuildingfromwhichIhadjustemerged.Twofirmsoflawyerspractisethereandonefirmofcharteredaccountants.Ofcourseitmaybeanyoneofthemoranymemberofanyone
“Hm,”saidIvorSmith.“Well,Tommy,youalwayswereaprettygoodguesser.”
“WhoisEccles?”
“Don’tyouknow?Haven’tyouanyidea?”
“I’venoideawhatever,”saidTommy.“Withoutgoingintoalonghistory,Iwenttohimforsomeinformationaboutanoldladywhohasrecentlyleftanoldladies’home.ThesolicitoremployedtomakearrangementsforherwasMr.Eccles.Heappearstohavedoneitwithperfectdecorumandefficiency.Iwantedherpresentaddress.Hesayshehasn’tgotit.Quitepossiblyhehasn’t…butIwondered.He’stheonlycluetoherwhereaboutsI’vegot.”
“Andyouwanttofindher?”
“Yes.”
“Idon’tthinkitsoundsasthoughI’mgoingtobemuchgoodtoyou.Ecclesisaveryrespectable,soundsolicitorwhomakesalargeincome,hasagoodmanyhighlyrespectableclients,worksforthelandedgentry,professionalclassesandretiredsoldiersandsailors,generalsandadmiralsandallthatsortofthing.He’stheacmeofrespectability.Ishouldimaginefromwhatyou’retalkingabout,thathewasstrictlywithinhislawfulactivities.”
“Butyou’re—interestedinhim,”suggestedTommy.
“Yes,we’reveryinterestedinMr.JamesEccles.”Hesighed.“We’vebeeninterestedinhimforatleastsixyears.Wehaven’tprogressedveryfar.”
“Veryinteresting,”saidTommy.“I’llaskyouagain.WhoexactlyisMr.Eccles?”
“YoumeanwhatdowesuspectEcclesof?Well,toputitinasentence,wesuspecthimofbeingoneofthebestorganizingbrainsincriminalactivityinthiscountry.”
“Criminalactivity?”Tommylookedsurprised.
“Ohyes,yes.Nocloakanddagger.Noespionage,nocounterespionage.No,plaincriminalactivity.Heisamanwhohassofaraswecandiscoverneverperformedacriminalactinhislife.Hehasneverstolenanything,he’sneverforgedanything,he’sneverconvertedfunds,wecan’tgetanykindofevidenceagainsthim.Butallthesamewheneverthere’sabigplannedorganizedrobbery,therewefind,somewhereinthebackground,Mr.Ecclesleadingablamelesslife.”
“Sixyears,”saidTommythoughtfully.
“Possiblyevenlongerthanthat.Ittookalittletime,togetontothepatternofthings.Bankholdups,robberiesofprivatejewels,allsortsofthingswherethebigmoneywas.They’realljobsthatfollowedacertainpattern.Youcouldn’thelpfeelingthatthesamemindhadplannedthem.Thepeoplewhodirectedthemandwhocarriedthemoutneverhadtodoanyplanningatall.Theywentwheretheyweretold,theydidwhattheywereordered,theyneverhadtothink.Somebodyelsewasdoingthethinking.”
“AndwhatmadeyouhitonEccles?”
IvorSmithshookhisheadthoughtfully.“Itwouldtaketoolongtotellyou.He’samanwhohasalotofacquaintances,alotoffriends.Therearepeopleheplaysgolfwith,therearepeoplewhoservicehiscar,therearefirmsofstockbrokerswhoactforhim.Therearecompaniesdoingablamelessbusinessinwhichheisinterested.Theplanisgettingclearerbuthispartinithasn’tgotmuchclearer,exceptthatheisveryconspicuouslyabsentoncertainoccasions.Abigbankrobberycleverlyplanned(andnoexpensespared,mindyou),consolidatingthegetawayandalltherestofit,andwhere’sMr.Eccleswhenithappens?MonteCarloorZurichorpossiblyevenfishingforsalmoninNorway.YoucanbequitesureMr.Ecclesisneverwithinahundredmilesofwherecriminalactivitiesarehappening.”
“Yetyoususpecthim?”
“Ohyes.I’mquitesureinmyownmind.Butwhetherwe’llevercatchhimIdon’tknow.Themanwhotunnelledthroughthefloorofabank,themanwhoknockedoutthenightwatchman,thecashierwhowasinitfromthebeginning,thebankmanagerwhosuppliedtheinformation,noneofthemknowEccles,probablythey’veneverevenseenhim.There’salongchainleadingaway—andnooneseemstoknowmorethanjustonelinkbeyondthemselves.”
“Thegoodoldplanofthecell?”
“Moreorless,yes,butthere’ssomeoriginalthinking.Somedaywe’llgetachance.Somebodywhooughtn’ttoknowanything,willknowsomething.Somethingsillyandtrivial,perhaps,butsomethingthatstrangelyenoughmaybeevidenceatlast.”
“Ishemarried—gotafamily?”
“No,hehasnevertakenriskslikethat.Helivesalonewithahousekeeperandagardenerandabutler-valet.Heentertainsinamildandpleasantway,andIdareswearthateverysinglepersonwho’senteredhishouseashisguestisbeyondsuspicion.”
“Andnobody’sgettingrich?”
“That’sagoodpointyou’veputyourfingeron,Thomas.Somebodyoughttobegettingrich.Somebodyoughttobeseentobegettingrich.Butthatpartofit’sverycleverlyarranged.Bigwinsonracecourses,investmentsinstocksandshares,allthingswhicharenatural,justchancyenoughtomakebigmoneyat,andallapparentlygenuinetransactions.There’salotofmoneystackedupabroadindifferentcountriesanddifferentplaces.It’sagreatbig,vast,moneymakingconcern—andthemoney’salwaysonthemove—goingfromplacetoplace.”
“Well,”saidTommy,“goodlucktoyou.Ihopeyougetyourman.”
“IthinkIshall,youknow,someday.Theremightbeahopeifonecouldjolthimoutofhisroutine.”
“Jolthimwithwhat?”
“Danger,”saidIvor.“Makehimfeelhe’sindanger.Makehimfeelsomeone’sontohim.Gethimuneasy.Ifyouoncegetamanuneasy,hemaydosomethingfoolish.Hemaymakeamistake.That’sthewayyougetchaps,youknow.Takethecleverestmanthereis,whocanplanbrilliantlyandneverputafootwrong.Letsomelittlethingrattlehimandhe’llmakeamistake.SoI’mhoping.Nowlet’shearyourstory.Youmightknowsomethingthatwouldbeuseful.”
“Nothingtodowithcrime,I’mafraid—verysmallbeer.”
“Well,let’shearaboutit.”
Tommytoldhisstorywithoutundueapologiesforthetrivialityofit.Ivor,heknew,wasnotamantodespisetriviality.Ivor,indeed,wentstraighttothepointwhichhadbroughtTommyonhiserrand.
“Andyourwife’sdisappeared,yousay?”
“It’snotlikeher.”
“That’sserious.”
“Serioustomeallright.”
“SoIcanimagine.Ionlymetyourmissusonce.She’ssharp.”
“Ifshegoesafterthingsshe’slikeaterrieronatrail,”saidThomas.
“You’venotbeentothepolice?”
“No.”
“Whynot?”
“Well,firstbecauseIcan’tbelievethatshe’sanythingbutallright.Tuppenceisalwaysallright.Shejustgoesalloutafteranyharethatshowsitself.Shemayn’thavehadtimetocommunicate.”
“Mmm.Idon’tlikeitverymuch.She’slookingforahouse,yousay?Thatjustmightbeinterestingbecauseamongvariousoddsandendsthatwefollowed,whichincidentallyhavenotledtomuch,areakindoftrailofhouseagents.”
“Houseagents?”Tommylookedsurprised.
“Yes.Nice,ordinary,rathermediocrehouseagentsinsmallprovincialtownsindifferentpartsofEngland,butnoneofthemsoveryfarfromLondon.Mr.Eccles’sfirmdoesalotofbusinesswithandforhouseagents.Sometimeshe’sthesolicitorforthebuyersandsometimesforthesellers,andheemploysvarioushouseagencies,onbehalfofclients.Sometimesweratherwonderedwhy.Noneofitseemsveryprofitable,yousee—”
“Butyouthinkitmightmeansomethingorleadtosomething?”
“Well,ifyourememberthebigLondonSouthernBankrobberysomeyearsago,therewasahouseinthecountry—alonelyhouse.Thatwasthethieves’rendezvous.Theyweren’tverynoticeablethere,butthat’swherethestuffwasbroughtandcachedaway.Peopleintheneighbourhoodbegantohaveafewstoriesaboutthem,andwonderwhothesepeoplewerewhocameandwentatratherunusualhours.Differentkindsofcarsarrivinginthemiddleofthenightandgoingawayagain.Peoplearecuriousabouttheirneighboursinthecountry.Sureenough,thepoliceraidedtheplace,theygotsomeoftheloot,andtheygotthreemen,includingonewhowasrecognizedandidentified.”
“Well,didn’tthatleadyousomewhere?”
“Notreally.Themenwouldn’ttalk,theywerewelldefendedandrepresented,theygotlongsentencesingaolandwithinayearandahalftheywerealloutofthejugagain.Verycleverrescues.”
“Iseemtorememberreadingaboutit.Onemandisappearedfromacriminalcourtwherehewasbroughtupbytwowarders.”
“That’sright.Allverycleverlyarrangedandanenormousamountofmoneyspentontheescape.
“Butwethinkthatwhoeverwasresponsibleforthestaffworkrealizedhemadeamistakeinhavingonehousefortoolongatime,sothatthelocalpeoplegotinterested.Somebody,perhaps,thoughtitwouldbeabetterideatogetsubsidiarieslivingin,say,asmanyasthirtyhousesindifferentplaces.Peoplecomeandtakeahouse,motheranddaughter,say,awidow,oraretiredarmymanandhiswife.Nicequietpeople.Theyhaveafewrepairsdonetothehouse,getalocalbuilderinandimprovetheplumbing,andperhapssomeotherfirmdownfromLondontodecorate,andthenafterayearorayearandahalfcircumstancesarise,andtheoccupierssellthehouseandgooffabroadtolive.Somethinglikethat.Allverynaturalandpleasant.Duringtheirtenancythathousehasbeenusedperhapsforratherunusualpurposes!Butnoonesuspectssuchathing.Friendscometoseethem,notveryoften.Justoccasionally.Onenight,perhaps,akindofanniversarypartyforamiddle-aged,orelderlycouple;oracomingofageparty.Alotofcarscomingandgoing.Saytherearefivemajorrobberiesdonewithinsixmonthsbuteachtimethelootpassesthrough,oriscachedin,notjustoneofthesehouses,butfivedifferenthousesinfivedifferentpartsofthecountryside.It’sonlyasuppositionasyet,mydearTommy,butwe’reworkingonsignificanthouse.Andsupposingthatthat’sthehousethatyourmissushasrecognizedsomewhere,andhasgonedashingofftoinvestigate.Andsupposingsomeonedoesn’twantthatparticularhouseinvestigated—Itmighttieup,youknow.”
“It’sveryfar-fetched.”
“Ohyes—Iagree.Butthesetimesweliveinarefar-fetchedtimes—Inourparticularworldincrediblethingshappen.”
II
SomewhatwearilyTommyalightedfromhisfourthtaxiofthedayandlookedappraisinglyathissurroundings.Thetaxihaddepositedhiminasmallcul-de-sacwhichtuckeditselfcoylyunderoneoftheprotuberancesofHampsteadHeath.Thecul-de-sacseemedtohavebeensomeartistic“development.”Eachhousewaswildlydifferentfromthehousenexttoit.Thisparticularoneseemedtoconsistofalargestudiowithskylightsinit,andattachedtoit(ratherlikeagumboil),ononesidewaswhatseemedtobealittleclusterofthreerooms.Aladderstaircasepaintedbrightgreenranuptheoutsideofthehouse.Tommyopenedthesmallgate,wentupapathandnotseeingabellappliedhimselftotheknocker.Gettingnoresponse,hepausedforafewmomentsandthenstartedagainwiththeknocker,alittlelouderthistime.
Thedooropenedsosuddenlythathenearlyfellbackwards.Awomanstoodonthedoorstep.AtfirstsightTommy’sfirstimpressionwasthatthiswasoneoftheplainestwomenhehadeverseen.Shehadalargeexpanseofflat,pancakelikeface,twoenormouseyeswhichseemedofimpossiblydifferentcolours,onegreenandonebrown,anobleforeheadwithaquantityofwildhairrisingupfromitinakindofthicket.Sheworeapurpleoverallwithblotchesofclayonit,andTommynoticedthatthehandthatheldthedooropenwasoneofexceedingbeautyofstructure.
“Oh,”shesaid.Hervoicewasdeepandratherattractive.“Whatisit?I’mbusy.”
“Mrs.Boscowan?”
“Yes.Whatdoyouwant?”
“Myname’sBeresford.IwonderedifImightspeaktoyouforafewmoments.”
“Idon’tknow.Really,mustyou?Whatisit—somethingaboutapicture?”Hereyehadgonetowhatheheldunderhisarm.
“Yes.It’ssomethingtodowithoneofyourhusband’spictures.”
“Doyouwanttosellit?I’vegotplentyofhispictures.Idon’twanttobuyanymoreofthem.Takeittooneofthesegalleriesorsomething.They’rebeginningtobuyhimnow.Youdon’tlookasthoughyouneededtosellpictures.”
“Ohno,Idon’twanttosellanything.”
Tommyfeltextraordinarydifficultyintalkingtothisparticularwoman.Hereyes,unmatchingthoughtheywere,wereveryfineeyesandtheywerelookingnowoverhisshoulderdownthestreetwithanairofsomepeculiarinterestatsomethinginthefardistance.
“Please,”saidTommy.“Iwishyouwouldletmecomein.It’ssodifficulttoexplain.”
“Ifyou’reapainterIdon’twanttotalktoyou,”saidMrs.Boscowan.“Ifindpaintersveryboringalways.”
“I’mnotapainter.”
“Well,youdon’tlooklikeone,certainly.”Hereyesrakedhimupanddown.“Youlookmorelikeacivilservant,”shesaiddisapprovingly.
“CanIcomein,Mrs.Boscowan?”
“I’mnotsure.Wait.”
Sheshutthedoorratherabruptly.Tommywaited.Afteraboutfourminuteshadpassedthedooropenedagain.
“Allright,”shesaid.“Youcancomein.”
Sheledhimthroughthedoorway,upanarrowstaircaseandintothelargestudio.Inacornerofittherewasafigureandvariousimplementsstandingbyit.Hammersandchisels.Therewasalsoaclayhead.Thewholeplacelookedasthoughithadrecentlybeensavagedbyagangofhooligans.
“There’sneveranyroomtosituphere,”saidMrs.Boscowan.
Shethrewvariousthingsoffawoodenstoolandpushedittowardshim.
“There.Sitdownhereandspeaktome.”
“It’sverykindofyoutoletmecomein.”
“Itisrather,butyoulookedsoworried.Youareworried,aren’tyou,aboutsomething?”
“YesIam.”
“Ithoughtso.Whatareyouworriedabout?”
“Mywife,”saidTommy,surprisinghimselfbyhisanswer.
“Oh,worriedaboutyourwife?Well,there’snothingunusualinthat.Menarealwaysworryingabouttheirwives.What’sthematter—hasshegoneoffwithsomeoneorplayingup?”
“No.Nothinglikethat.”
“Dying?Cancer?”
“No,”saidTommy.“It’sjustthatIdon’tknowwheresheis.”
“AndyouthinkImight?Well,you’dbettertellmehernameandsomethingaboutherifyouthinkIcanfindherforyou.I’mnotsure,mindyou,”saidMrs.Boscowan,“thatIshallwantto.I’mwarningyou.”
“ThankGod,”saidTommy,“you’remoreeasytotalktothanIthoughtyouweregoingtobe.”
“What’sthepicturegottodowithit?Itisapicture,isn’tit—mustbe,thatshape.”
Tommyundidthewrappings.
“It’sapicturesignedbyyourhusband,”saidTommy.“Iwantyoutotellmewhatyoucanaboutit.”
“Isee.Whatexactlydoyouwanttoknow?”
“Whenitwaspaintedandwhereitis.”
Mrs.Boscowanlookedathimandforthefirsttimetherewasaslightlookofinterestinhereyes.
“Well,that’snotdifficult,”shesaid.“Yes,Icantellyouallaboutit.Itwaspaintedaboutfifteenyearsago—no,agooddeallongerthanthatIshouldthink.It’soneofhisfairlyearlyones.Twentyyearsago,Ishouldsay.”
“Youknowwhereitis—theplaceImean?”
“Ohyes,Icanrememberquitewell.Nicepicture.Ialwayslikedit.That’sthelittlehumpbackedbridgeandthehouseandthenameoftheplaceisSuttonChancellor.AboutsevenoreightmilesfromMarketBasing.ThehouseitselfisaboutacoupleofmilesfromSuttonChancellor.Prettyplace.Secluded.”
Shecameuptothepicture,bentdownandpeeredatitclosely.
“That’sfunny,”shesaid.“Yes,that’sveryodd.Iwondernow.”
Tommydidnotpaymuchattention.
“What’sthenameofthehouse?”heasked.
“Ican’treallyremember.Itgotrenamed,youknow.Severaltimes.Idon’tknowwhattherewasaboutit.Acoupleofrathertragicthingshappenedthere,Ithink,thenthenextpeoplewhocamealongrenamedit.CalledtheCanalHouseonce,orCanalSide.OnceitwascalledBridgeHousethenMeadowside—orRiversidewasanothername.”
“Wholivedthere—orwholivestherenow?Doyouknow?”
“NobodyIknow.ManandagirllivedtherewhenfirstIsawit.Usedtocomedownforweekends.Notmarried,Ithink.Thegirlwasadancer.Mayhavebeenanactress—no,Ithinkshewasadancer.Balletdancer.Ratherbeautifulbutdumb.Simple,almostwanting.Williamwasquitesoftabouther,Iremember.”
“Didhepainther?”
“No.Hedidn’toftenpaintpeople.Heusedtosaysometimeshewantedtodoasketchofthem,butheneverdidmuchaboutit.Hewasalwayssillyovergirls.”
“Theywerethepeoplewhoweretherewhenyourhusbandwaspaintingthehouse?”
“Yes,Ithinkso.Partofthetimeanyway.Theyonlycamedownweekends.Thentherewassomekindofabust-up.Theyhadarow,Ithink,orhewentawayandleftherorshewentawayandlefthim.Iwasn’tdowntheremyself.IwasworkinginCoventrythendoingagroup.AfterthatIthinktherewasjustagovernessinthehouseandthechild.Idon’tknowwhothechildwasorwhereshecamefrombutIsupposethegovernesswaslookingafterher.ThenIthinksomethinghappenedtothechild.Eitherthegovernesstookherawaysomewhereorperhapsshedied.Whatdoyouwanttoknowaboutthepeoplewholivedinthehousetwentyyearsago?Seemstomeidiotic.”
“IwanttohearanythingIcanaboutthathouse,”saidTommy.“Yousee,mywifewentawaytolookforthathouse.Shesaidshe’dseenitoutofatrainsomewhere.”
“Quiteright,”saidMrs.Boscowan,“therailwaylinerunsjusttheothersideofthebridge.Youcanseethehouseverywellfromit,Iexpect.”Thenshesaid,“Whydidshewanttofindthathouse?”
Tommygaveamuchabridgedexplanation—shelookedathimdoubtfully.
“Youhaven’tcomeoutofamentalhomeoranything,haveyou?”saidMrs.Boscowan.“Onparoleorsomething,whatevertheycallit.”
“IsupposeImustsoundalittlelikethat,”saidTommy,“butit’squitesimplereally.Mywifewantedtofindoutaboutthishouseandsoshetriedtotakevarioustrainjourneystofindoutwhereitwasshe’dseenit.Well,Ithinkshedidfindout.Ithinkshewenttheretothisplace—somethingChancellor?”
“SuttonChancellor,yes.Veryone-horseplaceitusedtobe.Ofcourseitmaybeabigdevelopmentorevenoneofthesenewdormitorytownsbynow.”
“Itmightbeanything,Iexpect,”saidTommy.“Shetelephonedshewascomingbackbutshedidn’tcomeback.AndIwanttoknowwhat’shappenedtoher.Ithinkshewentandstartedinvestigatingthathouseandperhaps—perhapssheranintodanger.”
“What’sdangerousaboutit?”
“Idon’tknow,”saidTommy.“Neitherofusknew.Ididn’teventhinktherecouldbeanydangeraboutit,butmywifedid.”
“E.S.P.?”
“Possibly.She’salittlelikethat.Shehashunches.YouneverheardoforknewaMrs.Lancastertwentyyearsagooranytimeuptoamonthago?”
“Mrs.Lancaster?No,Idon’tthinkso.Sortofnameonemightremember,mightn’titbe.No.WhataboutMrs.Lancaster?”
“Shewasthewomanwhoownedthispicture.Shegaveitasafriendlygesturetoanauntofmine.Thensheleftanoldpeople’shomerathersuddenly.Herrelativestookheraway.I’vetriedtotraceherbutitisn’teasy.”
“Who’stheonewho’sgottheimagination,youoryourwife?Youseemtohavethoughtupalotofthingsandtoberatherinastate,ifImaysayso.”
“Ohyes,youcansayso,”saidTommy.“Ratherinastateandallaboutnothingatall.That’swhatyoumean,isn’tit?Isupposeyou’rerighttoo.”
“No,”saidMrs.Boscowan.Hervoicehadalteredslightly.“Iwouldn’tsayaboutnothingatall.”
Tommylookedatherinquiringly.
“There’sonethingthat’soddaboutthatpicture,”saidMrs.Boscowan.“Veryodd.Irememberitquitewell,youknow.IremembermostofWilliam’spicturesalthoughhepaintedsuchalotofthem.”
“Doyourememberwhoitwassoldto,ifitwassold?”
“No,Idon’trememberthat.Yes,Ithinkitwassold.Therewasawholebatchofhispaintingssoldfromoneofhisexhibitions.Theyranbackforaboutthreeorfouryearsbeforethisandacoupleofyearslaterthanthis.Quitealotofthemweresold.Nearlyallofthem.ButIcan’trememberbynowwhoitwassoldto.That’saskingtoomuch.”
“I’mverygratefultoyouforallyouhaveremembered.”
“Youhaven’taskedmeyetwhyIsaidtherewassomethingoddaboutthepicture.Thispicturethatyoubroughthere.”
“Youmeanitisn’tyourhusband’s—somebodyelsepaintedit?”
“Ohno.That’sthepicturethatWilliampainted.‘HousebyaCanal,’Ithinkhecalleditinthecatalogue.Butitisn’tasitwas.Yousee,there’ssomethingwrongwithit.”
“What’swrongwithit?”
Mrs.Boscowanstretchedoutaclay-smearedfingerandjabbedataspotjustbelowthebridgespanningthecanal.
“There,”shesaid.“Yousee?There’saboattiedupunderthebridge,isn’tthere?”
“Yes,”saidTommypuzzled.
“Well,thatboatwasn’tthere,notwhenIsawitlast.Williamneverpaintedthatboat.Whenitwasexhibitedtherewasnoboatofanykind.”
“Youmeanthatsomebodynotyourhusbandpaintedtheboatinhereafterwards?”
“Yes.Odd,isn’tit?Iwonderwhy.FirstofallIwassurprisedtoseetheboatthere,aplacewheretherewasn’tanyboat,thenIcanseequitewellthatitwasn’tpaintedbyWilliam.Hedidn’tputitinatanytime.Somebodyelsedid.Iwonderwho?”
ShelookedatTommy.
“AndIwonderwhy?”
Tommyhadnosolutiontooffer.HelookedatMrs.Boscowan.HisAuntAdawouldhavecalledherascattywomanbutTommydidnotthinkofherinthatlight.Shewasvague,withanabruptwayofjumpingfromonesubjecttoanother.Thethingsshesaidseemedtohaveverylittlerelationtothelastthingshehadsaidaminutebefore.Shewasthesortofperson,Tommythought,whomightknowagreatdealmorethanshechosetoreveal.Hadshelovedherhusbandorbeenjealousofherhusbandordespisedherhusband?Therewasreallynocluewhateverinhermanner,orindeedherwords.Buthehadthefeelingthatthatsmallpaintedboattiedupunderthebridgehadcausedheruneasiness.Shehadn’tlikedtheboatbeingthere.Suddenlyhewonderedifthestatementshehadmadewastrue.CouldshereallyrememberfromlongyearsbackwhetherBoscowanhadpaintedaboatatthebridgeorhadnot?Itseemedreallyaverysmallandinsignificantitem.Ifithadbeenonlyayearagowhenshehadseenthepicturelast—butapparentlyitwasamuch
“Whatareyougoingtodonow?”shesaid.
Thatatleastwaseasy.Tommyhadnodifficultyinknowingwhathewasgoingtodonow.
“Ishallgohometonight—seeifthereisanynewsofmywife—anywordfromher.Ifnot,tomorrowIshallgotothisplace,”hesaid.“SuttonChancellor.IhopethatImayfindmywifethere.”
“Itwoulddepend,”saidMrs.Boscowan
“Dependonwhat?”saidTommysharply.
Mrs.Boscowanfrowned.Thenshemurmured,seeminglytoherself,“Iwonderwheresheis?”
“Youwonderwherewhois?”
Mrs.Boscowanhadturnedherglanceawayfromhim.Nowhereyessweptback.
“Oh,”shesaid.“Imeantyourwife.”Thenshesaid,“Ihopesheisallright.”
“Whyshouldn’tshebeallright?Tellme,Mrs.Boscowan,istheresomethingwrongwiththatplace—withSuttonChancellor?”
“WithSuttonChancellor?Withtheplace?”Shereflected.“No,Idon’tthinkso.Notwiththeplace.”
“IsupposeImeantthehouse,”saidTommy.“Thishousebythecanal.NotSuttonChancellorvillage.”
“Oh,thehouse,”saidMrs.Boscowan.“Itwasagoodhousereally.Meantforlovers,youknow.”
“Didloverslivethere?”
“Sometimes.Notoftenenoughreally.Ifahouseisbuiltforlovers,itoughttobelivedinbylovers.”
“Notputtosomeotherusebysomeone.”
“You’reprettyquick,”saidMrs.Boscowan.“YousawwhatImeant,didn’tyou?Youmustn’tputahousethatwasmeantforonethingtothewronguse.Itwon’tlikeitifyoudo.”
“Doyouknowanythingaboutthepeoplewhohavelivedthereoflateyears?”
Sheshookherhead.“No.No.Idon’tknowanythingaboutthehouseatall.Itwasneverimportanttome,yousee.”
“Butyou’rethinkingofsomething—no,someone?”
“Yes,”saidMrs.Boscowan.“Isupposeyou’rerightaboutthat.Iwasthinkingof—someone.”
“Can’tyoutellmeaboutthepersonyouwerethinkingof?”
“There’sreallynothingtosay,”saidMrs.Boscowan.“Sometimes,youknow,onejustwonderswhereapersonis.What’shappenedtothemorhowtheymighthave—developed.There’sasortoffeeling—”Shewavedherhands—“Wouldyoulikeakipper?”shesaidunexpectedly.
“Akipper?”Tommywasstartled.
“Well,Ihappentohavetwoorthreekippershere.Ithoughtperhapsyououghttohavesomethingtoeatbeforeyoucatchatrain.Waterlooisthestation,”shesaid.“ForSuttonChancellor,Imean.YouusedtohavetochangeatMarketBasing.Iexpectyoustilldo.”
Itwasadismissal.Heacceptedit.
Thirteen
ALBERTONCLUES
Tuppenceblinkedhereyes.Visionseemedratherdim.Shetriedtoliftherheadfromthepillowbutwincedasasharppainranthroughit,andletitdropagainontothepillow.Sheclosedhereyes.Presentlysheopenedthemagainandblinkedoncemore.
Withafeelingofachievementsherecognizedhersurroundings.“I’minahospitalward,”thoughtTuppence.Satisfiedwithhermentalprogresssofar,sheattemptednomorebrainydeduction.Shewasinahospitalwardandherheadached.Whyitached,whyshewasinahospitalward,shewasnotquitesure.“Accident?”thoughtTuppence.
Therewerenursesmovingaroundbeds.Thatseemednaturalenough.Sheclosedhereyesandtriedalittlecautiousthought.Afaintvisionofanelderlyfigureinclericaldress,passedacrossamentalscreen.“Father?”saidTuppencedoubtfully.“IsitFather?”Shecouldn’treallyremember.Shesupposedso.
“ButwhatamIdoingbeingillinahospital?”thoughtTuppence.“Imean,Inurseinahospital,soIoughttobeinuniform.V.A.D.uniform.Ohdear,”saidTuppence.
Presentlyanursematerializednearherbed.
“Feelingbetternow,dear?”saidthenursewithakindoffalsecheerfulness.“That’snice,isn’tit?”
Tuppencewasn’tquitesurewhetheritwasnice.Thenursesaidsomethingaboutanicecupoftea.
“Iseemtobeapatient,”saidTuppenceratherdisapprovinglytoherself.Shelaystill,resurrectinginherownmindvariousdetachedthoughtsandwords.
“Soldiers,”saidTuppence.“V.A.D.s.That’sit,ofcourse.I’maV.A.D.”
Thenursebroughthersometeainakindoffeedingcupandsupportedherwhilstshesippedit.Thepainwentthroughherheadagain.“AV.A.D.,that’swhatIam,”saidTuppencealoud.
Thenurselookedatherinanuncomprehendingfashion.
“Myheadhurts,”saidTuppence,addingastatementoffact.
“It’llbebettersoon,”saidthenurse.
Sheremovedthefeedingcup,reportingtoasisterasshepassedalong.“Number14’sawake.She’sabitwonky,though,Ithink.”
“Didshesayanything?”
“SaidshewasaV.I.P.,”saidthenurse.
ThewardsistergaveasmallsnortindicatingthatthatwashowshefelttowardsunimportantpatientswhoreportedthemselvestobeV.I.P.s.
“Weshallseeaboutthat,”saidthesister.“Hurryup,Nurse,don’tbealldaywiththatfeedingcup.”
Tuppenceremainedhalfdrowsyonherpillows.Shehadnotyetgotbeyondthestageofallowingthoughtstoflitthroughhermindinaratherdisorganizedprocession.
Therewassomebodywhooughttobehere,shefelt,somebodysheknewquitewell.Therewassomethingverystrangeaboutthishospital.Itwasn’tthehospitalsheremembered.Itwasn’ttheoneshehadnursedin.“Allsoldiers,thatwas,”saidTuppencetoherself.“Thesurgicalward,IwasonAandBrows.”Sheopenedhereyelidsandtookanotherlookround.Shedecideditwasahospitalshehadneverseenbeforeandthatithadnothingtodowiththenursingofsurgicalcases,militaryorotherwise.
“Iwonderwherethisis,”saidTuppence.“Whatplace?”Shetriedtothinkofthenameofsomeplace.TheonlyplacesshecouldthinkofwereLondonandSouthampton.
Thewardsisternowmadeherappearanceatthebedside.
“Feelingalittlebetter,Ihope,”shesaid.
“I’mallright,”saidTuppence.“What’sthematterwithme?”
“Youhurtyourhead.Iexpectyoufinditratherpainful,don’tyou?”
“Itaches,”saidTuppence.“WhereamI?”
“MarketBasingRoyalHospital.”
Tuppenceconsideredthisinformation.Itmeantnothingtoheratall.
“Anoldclergyman,”shesaid.
“Ibegyourpardon?”
“Nothingparticular.I—”
“Wehaven’tbeenabletowriteyournameonyourdietsheetyet,”saidthewardsister.
SheheldherBiropenatthereadyandlookedinquiringlyatTuppence.
“Myname?”
“Yes,”saidthesister.“Fortherecords,”sheaddedhelpfully.
Tuppencewassilent,considering.Hername.Whatwashername?“Howsilly,”saidTuppencetoherself,“Iseemtohaveforgottenit.AndyetImusthaveaname.”Suddenlyafaintfeelingofreliefcametoher.Theelderlyclergyman’sfaceflashedsuddenlyacrosshermindandshesaidwithdecision,
“Ofcourse.Prudence.”
“P-r-u-d-e-n-c-e?”
“That’sright,”saidTuppence.
“That’syourChristianname.Thesurname?”
“Cowley.C-o-w-l-e-y.”
“Gladtogetthatstraight,”saidthesister,andmovedawayagainwiththeairofonewhoserecordswerenolongerworryingher.
Tuppencefeltfaintlypleasedwithherself.PrudenceCowley.PrudenceCowleyintheV.A.D.andherfatherwasaclergymanat—atsomethingvicarageanditwaswartimeand…“Funny,”saidTuppencetoherself,“Iseemtobegettingthisallwrong.Itseemstomeitallhappenedalongtimeago.”Shemurmuredtoherself,“Wasityourpoorchild?”Shewondered.Wasitshewhohadjustsaidthatorwasitsomebodyelsesaidittoher?
Thesisterwasbackagain.
“Youraddress,”shesaid,“Miss—MissCowley,orisitMrs.Cowley?Didyouaskaboutachild?”
“Wasityourpoorchild?DidsomebodysaythattomeoramIsayingittothem?”
“IthinkIshouldsleepalittleifIwereyounow,dear,”saidthesister.
Shewentawayandtooktheinformationshehadobtainedtotheproperplace.
“Sheseemstohavecometoherself,Doctor,”sheremarked,“andshesayshernameisPrudenceCowley.Butshedoesn’tseemtorememberheraddress.Shesaidsomethingaboutachild.”
“Ohwell,”saidthedoctor,withhisusualcasualair,“we’llgiveheranothertwenty-fourhoursorso.She’scomingroundfromtheconcussionquitenicely.”
II
Tommyfumbledwithhislatchkey.BeforehecoulduseitthedoorcameopenandAlbertstoodintheopenaperture.
“Well,”saidTommy,“issheback?”
Albertslowlyshookhishead.
“Nowordfromher,notelephonemessage,noletterswaiting—notelegrams?”
“NothingItellyou,sir.Nothingwhatever.Andnothingfromanyoneelseeither.They’relyinglow—butthey’vegother.That’swhatIthink.They’vegother.”
“Whatthedevildoyoumean—they’vegother?”saidTommy.“Thethingsyouread.Who’vegother?”
“Well,youknowwhatImean.Thegang.”
“Whatgang?”
“Oneofthosegangswithflickknivesmaybe.Oraninternationalone.”
“Stoptalkingrubbish,”saidTommy.“D’youknowwhatIthink?”
Albertlookedinquiringlyathim.
“Ithinkit’sextremelyinconsiderateofhernottosenduswordofsomekind,”saidTommy.
“Oh,”saidAlbert,“well,Iseewhatyoumean.Isupposeyoucouldputitthatway.Ifitmakesyouhappier,”headdedratherunfortunately.HeremovedtheparcelfromTommy’sarms.“Iseeyoubroughtthatpictureback,”hesaid.
“Yes,I’vebroughtthebloodypictureback,”saidTommy.“Afatlotofuseit’sbeen.”
“Youhaven’tlearntanythingfromit?”
“That’snotquitetrue,”saidTommy.“IhavelearntsomethingfromitbutwhetherwhatI’velearntisgoingtobeanyusetomeIdon’tknow.”Headded,“Dr.Murraydidn’tringup,Isuppose,orMissPackardfromSunnyRidgeNursingHome?Nothinglikethat?”
“Nobody’srungupexceptthegreengrocertosayhe’sgotsomeniceaubergines.Heknowsthemissusisfondofaubergines.Healwaysletsherknow.ButItoldhimshewasn’tavailablejustnow.”Headded,“I’vegotachickenforyourdinner.”
“It’sextraordinarythatyoucanneverthinkofanythingbutchickens,”saidTommy,unkindly.
“It’swhattheycallapoussinthistime,”saidAlbert.“Skinny,”headded.
“It’lldo,”saidTommy.
Thetelephonerang.Tommywasoutofhisseatandhadrushedtoitinamoment
“Hallo…hallo?”
Afaintandfarawayvoicespoke.“Mr.ThomasBeresford?CanyouacceptapersonalcallfromInvergashly?”
“Yes.”
“Holdtheline,please.”
Tommywaited.Hisexcitementwascalmingdown.Hehadtowaitsometime.Thenavoiceheknew,crispandcapable,sounded.Thevoiceofhisdaughter.
“Hallo,isthatyou,Pop?”
“Deborah!”
“Yes.Whyareyousoundingsobreathless,haveyoubeenrunning?”
Daughters,Tommythought,werealwayscritical.
“Iwheezeabitinmyoldage,”hesaid.“Howareyou,Deborah?”
“Oh,I’mallright.Lookhere,Dad,Isawsomethinginthepaper.Perhapsyou’veseenittoo.Iwonderedaboutit.Somethingaboutsomeonewhohadhadanaccidentandwasinhospital.”
“Well?Idon’tthinkIsawanythingofthatkind.Imean,nottonoticeitinanyway.Why?”
“Wellit—itdidn’tsoundtoobad.Isupposeditwasacaraccidentorsomethinglikethat.Itmentionedthatthewoman,whoeveritwas—anelderlywoman—gavehernameasPrudenceCowleybuttheywereunabletofindheraddress.”
“PrudenceCowley?Youmean—”
“Wellyes.Ionly—well—Ionlywondered.ThatisMother’sname,isn’tit?Imeanitwashername.”
“Ofcourse.”
“IalwaysforgetaboutthePrudence.Imeanwe’veneverthoughtofherasPrudence,youandI,orDerekeither.”
“No,”saidTommy.“No.It’snotthekindofChristiannameonewouldassociatemuchwithyourmother.”
“No,Iknowitisn’t.Ijustthoughtitwas—ratherodd.Youdon’tthinkitmightbesomerelationofhers?”
“Isupposeitmightbe.Wherewasthis?”
“HospitalatMarketBasing,Ithinkitsaid.Theywantedtoknowmoreabouther,Igather.Ijustwondered—well,Iknowit’sawfullysilly,theremustbequantitiesofpeoplecalledCowleyandquantitiesofpeoplecalledPrudence.ButIthoughtI’djustringupandfindout.Makesure,Imean,thatMotherwasathomeandallrightandallthat.”
“Isee,”saidTommy.“Yes,Isee.”
“Well,goon,Pop,issheathome?”
“No,”saidTommy,“sheisn’tathomeandIdon’tknoweitherwhethersheisallrightornot.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”saidDeborah.“What’sMotherbeendoing?Isupposeyou’vebeenupinLondonwiththathush-hushutterlysecretidioticsurvivalfrompastdays,jawingwithalltheoldboys.”
“You’requiteright,”saidTommy.“Igotbackfromthatyesterdayevening.”
“AndyoufoundMotheraway—ordidyouknowshewasaway?Comeon,Pop,tellmeaboutit.You’reworried.Iknowwhenyou’reworriedwellenough.What’sMotherbeendoing?She’sbeenuptosomething,hasn’tshe?Iwishatherageshe’dlearntositquietandnotdothings.”
“She’sbeenworried,”saidTommy.“WorriedaboutsomethingthathappenedinconnectionwithyourGreat-auntAda’sdeath.”
“Whatsortofthing?”
“Well,somethingthatoneofthepatientsatthenursinghomesaidtoher.Shegotworriedaboutthisoldlady.Shestartedtalkingagooddealandyourmotherwasworriedaboutsomeofthethingsshesaid.Andso,whenwewenttolookthroughAuntAda’sthingswesuggestedtalkingtothisoldladyanditseemsshe’dleftrathersuddenly.”
“Well,thatseemsquitenatural,doesn’tit?”
“Someofherrelativescameandfetchedheraway.”
“Itstillseemsquitenatural,”saidDeborah.“WhydidMothergetthewindup?”
“Shegotitintoherhead,”saidTommy,“thatsomethingmighthavehappenedtothisoldlady.”
“Isee.”
“Nottoputtoofineapointonit,asthesayinggoes,sheseemstohavedisappeared.Allinquiteanaturalway.Imean,vouchedforbylawyersandbanksandallthat.Only—wehaven’tbeenabletofindoutwheresheis.”
“YoumeanMother’sgoneofftolookforhersomewhere?”
“Yes.Andshedidn’tcomebackwhenshesaidshewascomingback,twodaysago.”
“Andhaven’tyouheardfromher?”
“No.”
“IwishtogoodnessyoucouldlookafterMotherproperly,”saidDeborah,severely.
“Noneofushaveeverbeenabletolookafterherproperly,”saidTommy.“Notyoueither,Deborah,ifitcomestothat.It’sthesamewayshewentoffinthewaranddidalotofthingsthatshe’dnobusinesstobedoing.”
“Butit’sdifferentnow.Imean,she’squiteold.Sheoughttositathomeandtakecareofherself.Isupposeshe’sbeengettingbored.That’satthebottomofitall.”
“MarketBasingHospital,didyousay?”saidTommy.
“Melfordshire.It’saboutanhouroranhourandahalffromLondon,Ithink,bytrain.”
“That’sit,”saidTommy.“Andthere’savillagenearMarketBasingcalledSuttonChancellor.”
“What’sthatgottodowithit?”saidDeborah.
“It’stoolongtogointonow,”saidTommy.“Ithastodowithapicturepaintedofahousenearabridgebyacanal.”
“Idon’tthinkIcanhearyouverywell,”saidDeborah.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“Nevermind,”saidTommy.“I’mgoingtoringupMarketBasingHospitalandfindoutafewthings.I’veafeelingthatit’syourmother,allright.People,ifthey’vehadconcussion,youknow,oftenrememberthingsfirstthathappenedwhentheywereachild,andonlygetslowlytothepresent.She’sgonebacktohermaidenname.Shemayhavebeeninacaraccident,butIshouldn’tbesurprisedifsomebodyhadn’tgivenheraconkonthehead.It’sthesortofthingthathappenstoyourmother.Shegetsintothings.I’llletyouknowwhatIfindout.”
Fortyminuteslater,TommyBeresfordglancedathiswristwatchandbreathedasighofutterweariness,ashereplacedthereceiverwithafinalclangonthetelephonerest.Albertmadeanappearance.
“Whataboutyourdinner,sir?”hedemanded.“Youhaven’teatenathing,andI’msorrytosayIforgotaboutthatchicken—Burnttoacinder.”
“Idon’twantanythingtoeat,”saidTommy.“WhatIwantisadrink.Bringmeadoublewhisky.”
“Coming,sir,”saidAlbert.
AfewmomentslaterhebroughttherequiredrefreshmenttowhereTommyhadslumpeddowninthewornbutcomfortablechairreservedforhisspecialuse.
“Andnow,Isuppose,”saidTommy,“youwanttoheareverything.”
“Matteroffact,sir,”saidAlbertinaslightlyapologetictone,“Iknowmostofit.Yousee,seeingasitwasaquestionofthemissusandallthat,Itookthelibertyofliftinguptheextensioninthebedroom.Ididn’tthinkyou’dmind,sir,notasitwasthemissus.”
“Idon’tblameyou,”saidTommy.“Actually,I’mgratefultoyou.IfIhadtostartexplaining—”
“Gotontoeveryone,didn’tyou?Thehospitalandthedoctorandthematron.”
“Noneedtogooveritallagain,”saidTommy.
“MarketBasingHospital,”saidAlbert.“Neverbreathedawordofthat,shedidn’t.Neverleftitbehindasanaddressoranythinglikethat.”
“Shedidn’tintendittobeheraddress,”saidTommy.“AsfarasIcanmakeoutshewasprobablycoshedontheheadinanoutofthewayspotsomewhere.Someonetookheralonginacaranddumpedheratthesideoftheroadsomewhere,tobepickedupasanordinaryhitandrun.”Headded,“Callmeatsix-thirtytomorrowmorning.Iwanttogetanearlystart.”
“I’msorryaboutyourchickengettingburntupagainintheoven.Ionlyputitintokeepwarmandforgotaboutit.”
“Nevermindchickens,”saidTommy.“I’vealwaysthoughttheywereverysillybirds,runningundercarsandcluckingabout.Burythecorpsetomorrowmorningandgiveitagoodfuneral.”
“She’snotatdeath’sdoororanything,isshe,sir?”askedAlbert.
“Subdueyourmelodramaticfancies,”saidTommy.“Ifyou’ddoneanyproperlisteningyou’dhaveheardthatshe’scomenicelytoherselfagain,knowswhosheisorwasandwheresheisandthey’vesworntokeephertherewaitingformeuntilIarrivetotakechargeofheragain.Onnoaccountisshetobeallowedtoslipoutbyherselfandgooffagaindoingsomemoretomfooldetectivework.”
“Talkingofdetectivework,”saidAlbert,andhesitatedwithaslightcough.
“Idon’tparticularlywanttotalkaboutit,”saidTommy.“Forgetit,Albert.Teachyourselfbookkeepingorwindow-boxgardeningorsomething.”
“Well,Iwasjustthinking—Imean,asamatterofclues—”
“Well,whataboutclues?”
“I’vebeenthinking.”
“That’swhereallthetroubleinlifecomesfrom.Thinking.”
“Clues,”saidAlbertagain.“Thatpicture,forinstance.That’saclue,isn’tit?”
TommyobservedthatAlberthadhungthepictureofthehousebythecanaluponthewall.
“Ifthatpicture’sacluetosomething,whatdoyouthinkit’saclueto?”Heblushedslightlyattheinelegancyofthephrasehehadjustcoined.“Imean—what’sitallabout?Itoughttomeansomething.WhatIwasthinkingof,”saidAlbert,“ifyou’llexcusemementioningit—”
“Goahead,Albert.”
“WhatIwasthinkingofwasthatdesk.”
“Desk?”
“Yes.Theonethatcamebythefurnitureremoverswiththelittletableandthetwochairsandtheotherthings.Familyproperty,itwas,yousaid?”
“ItbelongedtomyAuntAda,”saidTommy.
“Well,that’swhatImeant,sir.That’sthesortofplacewhereyoufindclues.Inolddesks.Antiques.”
“Possibly,”saidTommy.
“Itwasn’tmybusiness,Iknow,andIsupposeIreallyoughtn’ttohavegonemessingaboutwithit,butwhileyouwereaway,sir,Icouldn’thelpit.Ihadtogoandhavealook.”
“What—alookintothedesk?”
“Yes,justtoseeiftheremightbeacluethere.Yousee,deskslikethat,theyhavesecretdrawers.”
“Possibly,”saidTommy.
“Well,thereyouare.Theremightbeacluethere,hidden.Shutupinthesecretdrawer.”
“It’sanagreeableidea,”saidTommy.“Butthere’snoreasonasfarasIknowformyAuntAdatohidethingsawayinsecretdrawers.”
“Youneverknowwitholdladies.Theyliketuckingthingsaway.Likejackdaws,theyare,ormagpies.Iforgetwhichitis.Theremightbeasecretwillinitorsomethingwrittenininvisibleinkoratreasure.Whereyou’dfindsomehiddentreasure.”
“I’msorry,Albert,butIthinkI’mgoingtohavetodisappointyou.I’mprettysurethere’snothingofthatkindinthatniceoldfamilydeskwhichoncebelongedtomyUncleWilliam.Anothermanwhoturnedcrustyinhisoldagebesidesbeingstonedeafandhavingaverybadtemper.”
“WhatIthoughtis,”saidAlbert,“itwouldn’tdoanyharmtolook,wouldit?”Headdedvirtuously,“Itneededcleaningoutanyway.Youknowhowoldthingsarewitholdladies.Theydon’tturnthemoutmuch—notwhenthey’rerheumaticandfindithardtogetabout.”
Tommypausedforamomentortwo.HerememberedthatTuppenceandhehadlookedquicklythroughthedrawersofthedesk,hadputtheircontentssuchastheywereintwolargeenvelopesandremovedafewskeinsofwool,twocardigans,ablackvelvetstoleandthreefinepillow-casesfromthelowerdrawerswhichtheyhadplacedwithotherclothingandoddsandendsfordisposal.Theyhadalsolookedthroughsuchpapersastherehadbeenintheenvelopesaftertheirreturnhomewiththem.Therehadbeennothingthereofparticularinterest.
“Welookedthroughthecontents,Albert,”hesaid.“Spentacoupleofeveningsreally.Oneortwoquiteinterestingoldletters,somerecipesforboilingham,someotherrecipesforpreservingfruit,somerationbooksandcouponsandthingsdatingbacktothewar.Therewasnothingofanyinterest.”
“Oh,that,”saidAlbert,“butthat’sjustpapersandthings,asyoumightsay.Justordinarygoandcomewhateverybodygetsholedupindesksanddrawersandthings.Imeanrealsecretstuff.WhenIwasaboy,youknow,Ididsixmonthswithanantiquedealer—helpinghimfakeupthingsasoftenasnot.ButIgottoknowaboutsecretdrawersthatway.Theyusuallyruntothesamepattern.Threeorfourwell-knownkindsandtheyvaryitnowandthen.Don’tyouthink,sir,yououghttohavealook?Imean,Ididn’tliketogoitmeselfwithyounothere.Iwouldhavebeenpresuming.”HelookedatTommywiththeairofapleadingdog.
“Comeon,Albert,”saidTommy,givingin.“Let’sgoandpresume.”
“Averynicepieceoffurniture,”thoughtTommy,ashestoodbyAlbert’sside,surveyingthisspecimenofhisinheritancefromAuntAda.“Nicelykept,beautifuloldpolishonit,showingthegoodworkmanshipandcraftsmanshipofdaysgoneby.”
“Well,Albert,”hesaid,“goahead.Thisisyourbitoffun.Butdon’tgoandstrainit.”
“Oh,Iwaseversocareful.Ididn’tcrackit,orslipknivesintoitoranythinglikethat.Firstofallweletdownthefrontandputitonthesetwoslabthingsthatpullout.That’sright,yousee,theflapcomesdownthiswayandthat’swheretheoldladyusedtosit.Nicelittlemother-of-pearlblottingcaseyourAuntAdahad.Itwasintheleft-handdrawer.”
“Therearethesetwothings,”saidTommy.
Hedrewouttwodelicatepilasteredshallowverticaldrawers.
“Oh,them,sir.Youcanpushpapersinthem,butthere’snothingreallysecretaboutthem.Themostusualplaceistoopenthelittlemiddlecupboard—andthenatthebottomofitusuallythere’salittledepressionandyouslidethebottomoutandthere’saspace.Butthere’sotherwaysandplaces.Thisdeskisthekindthathasakindofwellunderneath.”
“That’snotverysecreteither,isit?Youjustslidebackapanel—”
“Thepointis,itlooksasthoughyou’dfoundalltherewastofind.Youpushbackthepanel,there’sthecavityandyoucanputagoodmanythingsintherethatyouwanttokeepabitfrombeingpawedoverandallthat.Butthat’snotall,asyoumightsay.Becauseyousee,herethere’salittlepieceofwoodinfront,likealittleledge.Andyoucanpullthatup,yousee.”
“Yes,”saidTommy,“yes,Icanseethat.Youpullthatup.”
“Andyou’vegotasecretcavityhere,justbehindthemiddlelock.”
“Butthere’snothinginit.”
“No,”saidAlbert,“itlooksdisappointing.Butifyouslipyourhandintothatcavityandyouwiggleitalongeithertotheleftortheright,therearetwolittlethindrawers,oneeachside.There’salittlesemicirclecutoutofthetop,andyoucanhookyourfingeroverthat—andpullgentlytowardsyou—”DuringtheseremarksAlbertseemedtobegettinghiswristinwhatwasalmostacontortionistposition.“Sometimestheystickalittle.Wait—wait—hereshecomes.”
“Albert’shookedforefingerdrewsomethingtowardshimfrominside.Heclaweditgentlyforwarduntilthenarrowsmalldrawershowedintheopening.HehookeditoutandlaiditbeforeTommy,withtheairofadogbringinghisbonetohismaster.
“Nowwaitaminute,sir.There’ssomethinginhere,somethingwrappedupinalongthinenvelope.Nowwe’lldotheotherside.”
Hechangedhandsandresumedhiscontortionistclawings.Presentlyaseconddrawerwasbroughttolightandwaslaidbesidethefirstone.
“There’ssomethinginhere,too,”saidAlbert.“Anothersealed-upenvelopethatsomeone’shiddenhereonetimeoranother.I’venottriedtoopeneitherofthem—Iwouldn’tdosuchathing.”Hisvoicewasvirtuousintheextreme.“Ileftthattoyou—ButwhatIsayis—theymaybeclues—”
TogetherheandTommyextractedthecontentsofthedustydrawers.Tommytookoutfirstasealedenveloperolleduplengthwayswithanelasticbandroundit.Theelasticbandpartedassoonasitwastouched.
“Looksvaluable,”saidAlbert.
Tommyglancedattheenvelope.Itborethesuperscription“Confidential.”
“Thereyouare,”saidAlbert.“‘Confidential.’It’saclue.”
Tommyextractedthecontentsoftheenvelope.Inafadedhandwriting,andveryscratchyhandwritingatthat,therewasahalf-sheetofnotepaper.TommyturneditthiswayandthatandAlbertleanedoverhisshoulder,breathingheavily
“Mrs.MacDonald’srecipeforSalmonCream,”Tommyread.“Giventomeasaspecialfavour.Take2poundsofmiddlecutofsalmon,1pintofJerseycream,awineglassofbrandyandafreshcucumber.”Hebrokeoff.“I’msorry,Albert,it’sacluewhichwillleadustogoodcookery,nodoubt.”
Albertutteredsoundsindicativeofdisgustanddisappointment.
“Nevermind,”saidTommy.“Here’sanotheronetotry.”
Thenextsealedenvelopedidnotappeartobeoneofquitesuchantiquity.Ithadtwopalegreywaxsealsaffixedtoit,eachbearingarepresentationofawildrose.
“Pretty,”saidTommy,“ratherfancifulforAuntAda.Howtocookabeefsteakpie,Iexpect.”
Tommyrippedopentheenvelope.Heraisedhiseyebrows.Tencarefullyfoldedfive-poundnotesfellout.
“Nicethinones,”saidTommy.“They’retheoldones.Youknow,thekindweusedtohaveinthewar.Decentpaper.Probablyaren’tlegaltendernowadays.”
“Money!”saidAlbert.“Whatshewantallthatmoneyfor?”
“Oh,that’sanoldlady’snestegg,”saidTommy.“AuntAdaalwayshadanestegg.Yearsagoshetoldmethateverywomanshouldalwayshavefiftypoundsinfive-poundnoteswithherincaseofwhatshecalledemergencies.”
“Well,Isupposeit’llstillcomeinhandy,”saidAlbert.
“Idon’tsupposethey’reabsolutelyobsolete.Ithinkyoucanmakesomearrangementtochangethematabank.”
“There’sanotheronestill,”saidAlbert.“Theonefromtheotherdrawer—”
Thenextwasbulkier.Thereseemedtobemoreinsideitandithadthreelargeimportant-lookingredseals.Ontheoutsidewaswritteninthesamespikyhand“Intheeventofmydeath,thisenvelopeshouldbesentunopenedtomysolicitor,Mr.RockburyofRockbury&Tomkins,ortomynephewThomasBeresford.Nottobeopenedbyanyunauthorizedperson.”
Therewereseveralsheetsofcloselywrittenpaper.Thehandwritingwasbad,veryspikyandhereandtheresomewhatillegible.Tommyreaditaloudwithsomedifficulty.
“I,AdaMariaFanshawe,amwritingdownherecertainmatterswhichhavecometomyknowledgeandwhichhavebeentoldmebypeoplewhoareresidinginthisnursinghomecalledSunnyRidge.Icannotvouchforanyofthisinformationbeingcorrectbutthereseemstobesomereasontobelievethatsuspicious—possiblycriminal—activitiesaretakingplacehereorhavetakenplacehere.ElizabethMoody,afoolishwoman,butnotIthinkuntruthful,declaresthatshehasrecognizedhereawell-knowncriminal.Theremaybeapoisoneratworkamongus.Imyselfprefertokeepanopenmind,butIshallremainwatchful.Iproposetowritedownhereanyfactsthatcometomyknowledge.Thewholethingmaybeamare’snest.EithermysolicitorormynephewThomasBeresford,isaskedtomakefullinvestigation.”
“There,”saidAlberttriumphantly—“Toldyouso!It’saCLUE!”
BOOK4HEREISACHURCHANDHEREISTHESTEEPLEOPENTHEDOORSANDTHEREARETHEPEOPLE
Fourteen
EXERCISEINTHINKING
“Isupposewhatweoughttodoisthink,”saidTuppence.
Afteragladreunioninthehospital,Tuppencehadeventuallybeenhonourablydischarged.ThefaithfulpairwerenowcomparingnotestogetherinthesittingroomofthebestsuiteinTheLambandFlagatMarketBasing.
“Youleavethinkingalone,”saidTommy.“Youknowwhatthatdoctortoldyoubeforeheletyougo.Noworries,nomentalexertion,verylittlephysicalactivity—takeeverythingeasy.”
“WhatelseamIdoingnow?”demandedTuppence.“I’vegotmyfeetup,haven’tI,andmyheadontwocushions?Andasforthinking,thinkingisn’tnecessarilymentalexertion.I’mnotdoingmathematics,orstudyingeconomics,oraddingupthehouseholdaccounts.Thinkingisjustrestingcomfortably,andleavingone’smindopenincasesomethinginterestingorimportantshouldjustcomefloatingin.Anyway,wouldn’tyouratherIdidalittlethinkingwithmyfeetupandmyheadoncushions,ratherthangoinforactionagain?”
“Icertainlydon’twantyougoinginforactionagain,”saidTommy.“That’sout.Youunderstand?Physically,Tuppence,youwillremainquiescent.Ifpossible,Ishan’tletyououtofmysightbecauseIdon’ttrustyou.”
“Allright,”saidTuppence.“Lectureends.Nowlet’sthink.Thinktogether.Paynoattentiontowhatdoctorshavesaidtoyou.IfyouknewasmuchasIdoaboutdoctors—”
“Nevermindaboutthedoctors,”saidTommy,“youdoasItellyou.”
“Allright.I’venowishatpresentforphysicalactivity,Iassureyou.Thepointisthatwe’vegottocomparenotes.We’vegotholdofalotofthings.It’sasbadasavillagejumblesale.”
“Whatdoyoumeanbythings?”
“Well,facts.Allsortsoffacts.Fartoomanyfacts.Andnotonlyfacts—Hearsay,suggestions,legends,gossip.Thewholethingislikeabrantubwithdifferentkindsofparcelswrappedupandshoveddowninthesawdust.”
“Sawdustisright,”saidTommy.
“Idon’tquiteknowwhetheryou’rebeinginsultingormodest,”saidTuppence.“Anyway,youdoagreewithme,don’tyou?We’vegotfartoomuchofeverything.Therearewrongthingsandrightthings,andimportantthingsandunimportantthingsandthey’reallmixeduptogether.Wedon’tknowwheretostart.”
“Ido,”saidTommy.
“Allright,”saidTuppence.“Whereareyoustarting?”
“I’mstartingwithyourbeingcoshedonthehead,”saidTommy.
Tuppenceconsideredamoment.“Idon’tseereallythatthat’sastartingpoint.Imean,it’sthelastthingthathappened,notthefirst.”
“It’sthefirstinmymind,”saidTommy.“Iwon’thavepeoplecoshingmywife.Andit’sarealpointtostartfrom.It’snotimagination.It’sarealthingthatreallyhappened.”
“Icouldn’tagreewithyoumore,”saidTuppence.“Itreallyhappenedandithappenedtome,andI’mnotforgettingit.I’vebeenthinkingaboutit—SinceIregainedthepowerofthought,thatis.”
“Haveyouanyideaastowhodidit?”
“Unfortunately,no.Iwasbendingdownoveragravestoneandwhoosh!”
“Whocouldithavebeen?”
“IsupposeitmusthavebeensomebodyinSuttonChancellor.Andyetthatseemssounlikely.I’vehardlyspokentoanyone.”
“Thevicar?”
“Itcouldn’thavebeenthevicar,”saidTuppence.“Firstbecausehe’saniceoldboy.Andsecondlybecausehewouldn’thavebeennearlystrongenough.Andthirdlybecausehe’sgotveryasthmaticbreathing.Hecouldn’tpossiblyhavecreptupbehindmewithoutmyhearinghim.”
“Thenifyoucountthevicarout—”
“Don’tyou?”
“Well,”saidTommy,“yes,Ido.Asyouknow,I’vebeentoseehimandtalkedtohim.He’sbeenavicarhereforyearsandeveryoneknowshim.Isupposeafiendincarnatecouldputonashowofbeingakindlyvicar,butnotformorethanaboutaweekorsoattheoutside,I’dsay.Notforabouttenortwelveyears.”
“Well,then,”saidTuppence,“thenextsuspectwouldbeMissBligh.NellieBligh.Thoughheavenknowswhy.Shecan’thavethoughtIwastryingtostealatombstone.”
“Doyoufeelitmighthavebeenher?”
“Well,Idon’treally.Ofcourse,she’scompetent.IfshewantedtofollowmeandseewhatIwasdoing,andconkme,she’dmakeasuccessofit.Andlikethevicar,shewasthere—onthespot—ShewasinSuttonChancellor,poppinginandoutofherhousetodothisandthat,andshecouldhavecaughtsightofmeinthechurchyard,comeupbehindmeontiptoeoutofcuriosity,seenmeexaminingagrave,objectedtomydoingsoforsomeparticularreason,andhitmewithoneofthechurchmetalflowervasesoranythingelsehandy.Butdon’taskmewhy.Thereseemsnopossiblereason.”
“Whonext,Tuppence?Mrs.Cockerell,ifthat’shername?”
“Mrs.Copleigh,”saidTuppence.“No,itwouldn’tbeMrs.Copleigh.”
“Nowwhyareyousosureofthat?ShelivesinSuttonChancellor,shecouldhaveseenyougooutofthehouseandshecouldhavefollowedyou.”
“Ohyes,yes,butshetalkstoomuch,”saidTuppence.
“Idon’tseewheretalkingtoomuchcomesintoit.”
“Ifyou’dlistenedtoherawholeeveningasIdid,”saidTuppence,“you’drealizethatanyonewhotalksasmuchasshedoes,nonstopinaconstantflow,couldnotpossiblybeawomanofactionaswell!Shecouldn’thavecomeupanywherenearmewithouttalkingatthetopofhervoiceasshecame.”
Tommyconsideredthis.
“Allright,”hesaid.“Youhavegoodjudgementinthatkindofthing,Tuppence.WashoutMrs.Copleigh.Whoelseisthere?”
“AmosPerry,”saidTuppence.“That’sthemanwholivesattheCanalHouse.(IhavetocallittheCanalHousebecauseit’sgotsomanyotheroddnames.Anditwascalledthatoriginally.)Thehusbandofthefriendlywitch.There’ssomethingabitqueerabouthim.He’sabitsimplemindedandhe’sabigpowerfulman,andhecouldcoshanyoneontheheadifhewantedto,andIeventhinkit’spossibleincertaincircumstanceshemightwantto—thoughIdon’texactlyknowwhyheshouldwanttocoshme.He’sabetterpossibilityreallythanMissBlighwhoseemstomejustoneofthosetiresome,efficientwomenwhogoaboutrunningparishesandpokingtheirnosesintothings.Notatallthetypewhowouldgetuptothepointofphysicalattack,exceptforsomewildlyemotionalreason.”Sheadded,withaslightshiver,“Youknow,IfeltfrightenedofAmosPerrythefirsttimeIsawhim.Hewasshowingmehisgarden.IfeltsuddenlythatI—well,thatIwouldn’tliketogetonthewrongsideofhim—ormeethiminadarkroadatnight.Ifelthewasamanthatwouldn’toftenwanttobeviolentbutwhocouldbeviolentifsomethingtookhimthatway.”
“Allright,”saidTommy.“AmosPerry.Numberone.”
“Andthere’shiswife,”saidTuppenceslowly.“Thefriendlywitch.ShewasniceandIlikedher—Idon’twantittobeher—Idon’tthinkitwasher,butshe’smixedupinthings,Ithink…Thingsthathavetodowiththathouse.That’sanotherpoint,yousee,Tommy—Wedon’tknowwhattheimportantthingisinallthis—I’vebeguntowonderwhethereverythingdoesn’tcirculateroundthathouse—whetherthehouseisn’tthecentralpoint.Thepicture—Thatpicturedoesmeansomething,doesn’tit,Tommy?Itmust,Ithink.”
“Yes,”saidTommy,“Ithinkitmust.”
“IcameheretryingtofindMrs.Lancaster—butnobodyhereseemstohaveheardofher.I’vebeenwonderingwhetherIgotthingsthewrongwayround—thatMrs.Lancasterwasindanger(becauseI’mstillsureofthat)becausesheownedthatpicture.Idon’tthinkshewaseverinSuttonChancellor—butshewaseithergiven,orshebought,apictureofahousehere.Andthatpicturemeanssomething—isinsomewayamenacetosomeone.”
“Mrs.Cocoa—Mrs.Moody—toldAuntAdathatsherecognizedsomeoneatSunnyRidge—someoneconnectedwith‘criminalactivities.’Ithinkthecriminalactivitiesareconnectedwiththepictureandwiththehousebythecanal,andachildwhoperhapswaskilledthere.”
“AuntAdaadmiredMrs.Lancaster’spicture—andMrs.Lancastergaveittoher—andperhapsshetalkedaboutit—whereshegotit,orwhohadgivenittoher,andwherethehousewas—”
“Mrs.Moodywasbumpedoffbecauseshedefinitelyrecognizedsomeonewhohadbeen‘connectedwithcriminalactivities.’”
“TellmeagainaboutyourconversationwithDr.Murray,”saidTuppence.“AftertellingyouaboutMrs.Cocoa,hewentontotalkaboutcertaintypesofkillers,givingexamplesofreallifecases.Onewasawomanwhorananursinghomeforelderlypatients—Irememberreadingaboutitvaguely,thoughIcan’trememberthewoman’sname.Buttheideawasthattheymadeoverwhatmoneytheyhadtoher,andthentheylivedthereuntiltheydied,wellfedandlookedafter,andwithoutanymoneyworries.Andtheywereveryhappy—onlytheyusuallydiedwellwithinayear—quitepeacefullyintheirsleep.Andatlastpeoplebegantonotice.Shewastriedandconvictedofmurder—Buthadnoconsciencepangsandprotestedthatwhatshehaddonewasreallyakindnesstotheolddears.”
“Yes.That’sright,”saidTommy.“Ican’trememberthenameofthewomannow.”
“Well,nevermindaboutthat,”saidTuppence.“Andthenhecitedanothercase.Acaseofawoman,adomesticworkeroracookorahousekeeper.Sheusedtogointoserviceintodifferentfamilies.Sometimesnothinghappened,Ibelieve,andsometimesitwasakindofmasspoisoning.Foodpoisoning,itwassupposedtobe.Allwithquitereasonablesymptoms.Somepeoplerecovering.”
“Sheusedtopreparesandwiches,”saidTommy,“andmakethemupintopacketsandsendthemoutforpicnicswiththem.Shewasveryniceandverydevotedandsheusedtoget,ifitwasamasspoisoning,someofthesymptomsandsignsherself.Probablyexaggeratingtheireffect.Thenshe’dgoawayafterthatandshe’dtakeanotherplace,inquiteadifferentpartofEngland.Itwentonforsomeyears.”
“That’sright,yes.Nobody,Ibelieve,haseverbeenabletounderstandwhyshedidit.Didshegetasortofaddictionforit—asortofhabitofit?Wasitfunforher?Nobodyreallyeverknew.Sheneverseemstohavehadanypersonalmaliceforanyofthepeoplewhosedeathssheseemstohavecaused.Bitwronginthetopstorey?”
“Yes.Ithinkshemusthavebeen,thoughIsupposeoneofthetrickcyclistswouldprobablydoagreatdealofanalysisandfindoutithadallsomethingtodowithacanaryofafamilyshe’dknownyearsandyearsagoasachildwhohadgivenherashockorupsetherorsomething.Butanyway,that’sthesortofthingitwas.”
“Thethirdonewasqueererstill,”saidTommy.“AFrenchwoman.Awomanwho’dsufferedterriblyfromthelossofherhusbandandherchild.Shewasbrokenheartedandshewasanangelofmercy.”
“That’sright,”saidTuppence,“Iremember.Theycalledhertheangelofwhateverthevillagewas.Givonorsomethinglikethat.Shewenttoalltheneighboursandnursedthemwhentheywereill.Particularlysheusedtogotochildrenwhentheywereill.Shenursedthemdevotedly.Butsoonerorlater,afterapparentlyaslightrecovery,theygrewmuchworseanddied.Shespenthourscryingandwenttothefuneralcryingandeverybodysaidtheywouldn’tknowwhatthey’dhavedonewithouttheangelwho’dnursedtheirdarlingsanddoneeverythingshecould.”
“Whydoyouwanttogooverallthisagain,Tuppence?”
“BecauseIwonderedifDr.Murrayhadareasonformentioningthem.”
“Youmeanheconnected—”
“Ithinkheconnectedupthreeclassicalcasesthatarewellknown,andtriedthemon,asitwere,likeaglove,toseeiftheyfittedanyoneatSunnyRidge.Ithinkinawayanyofthemmighthavefitted.MissPackardwouldfitinwiththefirstone.TheefficientmatronofaHome.”
“Youreallyhavegotyourknifeintothatwoman.Ialwayslikedher.”
“Idaresaypeoplehavelikedmurderers,”saidTuppenceveryreasonably.“It’slikeswindlersandconfidencetricksmenwhoalwayslooksohonestandseemsohonest.Idaresaymurderersallseemveryniceandparticularlysofthearted.Thatsortofthing.Anyway,MissPackardisveryefficientandshehasallthemeanstohandwherebyshecouldproduceanicenaturaldeathwithoutsuspicion.AndonlysomeonelikeMrs.Cocoawouldbelikelytosuspecther.Mrs.Cocoamightsuspectherbecauseshe’sabitbattyherselfandcanunderstandbattypeople,orshemighthavecomeacrosshersomewherebefore.”
“Idon’tthinkMissPackardwouldprofitfinanciallybyanyofherelderlyinmates’deaths.”
“Youdon’tknow,”saidTuppence.“Itwouldbeaclevererwaytodoit,nottobenefitfromallofthem.Justgetoneortwoofthem,perhaps,richones,toleaveyoualotofmoney,buttoalwayshavesomedeathsthatwerequitenaturalaswell,andwhereyoudidn’tgetanything.SoyouseeIthinkthatDr.Murraymight,justmight,havecastaglanceatMissPackardandsaidtohimself,‘Nonsense,I’mimaginingthings.’Butallthesamethethoughtstuckinhismind.Thesecondcasehementionedwouldfitwithadomesticworker,orcook,orevensomekindofhospitalnurse.Somebodyemployedintheplace,amiddle-agedreliablewoman,butwhowasbattyinthatparticularway.Perhapsusedtohavelittlegrudges,dislikesforsomeofthepatientsthere.Wecan’tgoguessingatthatbecauseIdon’tthinkweknowanyonewellenough—”
“Andthethirdone?”
“Thethirdone’smoredifficult,”Tuppenceadmitted.“Someonedevoted.Dedicated.”
“Perhapshejustaddedthatforgoodmeasure,”saidTommy.Headded,“IwonderaboutthatIrishnurse.”
“Theniceonewegavethefurstoleto?”
“Yes,theniceoneAuntAdaliked.Theverysympatheticone.Sheseemedsofondofeveryone,sosorryiftheydied.Shewasveryworriedwhenshespoketous,wasn’tshe?Yousaidso—shewasleaving,andshedidn’treallytelluswhy.”
“Isupposeshemighthavebeenaratherneurotictype.Nursesaren’tsupposedtobetoosympathetic.It’sbadforpatients.Theyaretoldtobecoolandefficientandinspireconfidence.”
“NurseBeresfordspeaking,”saidTommy,andgrinned.
“Buttocomebacktothepicture,”saidTuppence.“Ifwejustconcentrateonthepicture.BecauseIthinkit’sveryinterestingwhatyoutoldmeaboutMrs.Boscowan,whenyouwenttoseeher.Shesounds—shesoundsinteresting.”
“Shewasinteresting,”saidTommy.“QuitethemostinterestingpersonIthinkwe’vecomeacrossinthisunusualbusiness.Thesortofpersonwhoseemstoknowthings,butnotbythinkingaboutthem.ItwasasthoughsheknewsomethingaboutthisplacethatIdidn’t,andthatperhapsyoudon’t.Butsheknowssomething.”
“Itwasoddwhatshesaidabouttheboat,”saidTuppence.“Thatthepicturehadn’thadaboatoriginally.Whydoyouthinkit’sgotaboatnow?”
“Oh,”saidTommy,“Idon’tknow.”
“Wasthereanynamepaintedontheboat?Idon’trememberseeingone—butthenIneverlookedatitveryclosely.”
“It’sgotWaterlilyonit.”
“Averyappropriatenameforaboat—whatdoesthatremindmeof?”
“I’venoidea.”
“Andshewasquitepositivethatherhusbanddidn’tpaintthatboat—Hecouldhaveputitinafterwards.”
“Shesaysnot—shewasverydefinite.”
“Ofcourse,”saidTuppence,“there’sanotherpossibilitywehaven’tgoneinto.Aboutmycoshing,Imean—theoutsider—somebodyperhapswhofollowedmeherefromMarketBasingthatdaytoseewhatIwasupto.BecauseI’dbeenthereaskingallthosequestions.Goingintoallthosehouseagents.Blodget&Burgessandalltherestofthem.Theyputmeoffaboutthehouse.Theywereevasive.Moreevasivethanwouldbenatural.ItwasthesamesortofevasionaswehadwhenweweretryingtofindoutwhereMrs.Lancasterhadgone.Lawyersandbanks,anownerwhocan’tbecommunicatedwithbecausehe’sabroad.Thesamesortofpattern.Theysendsomeonetofollowmycar,theywanttoseewhatIamdoing,andinduecourseIamcoshed.Whichbringsus,”saidTuppence,“tothegravestoneinthechurchyard.Whydidn’tanyonewantmetolookatoldgravestones?Theywereallpulledaboutanyway—agroupofboys,Ishouldsay,who’dgotboredwithwreckingtelephoneboxes,andwentintothechurchyardtohavesomefunandsacrilegebehindthechurch.”
“Yousaytherewerepaintedwords—orroughlycarvedwords?”
“Yes—donewithachisel,Ishouldthink.Someonewhogaveitupasabadjob
“Thename—LilyWaters—andtheage—sevenyearsold.Thatwasdoneproperly—andthentheotherbitsofwords—Itlookedlike‘Whosoever…’andthen‘offendleastofthese’—and—‘Millstone’—”
“Soundsfamiliar.”
“Itshoulddo.It’sdefinitelybiblical—butdonebysomeonewhowasn’tquitesurewhatthewordshewantedtorememberwere—”
“Veryodd—thewholething.”
“Andwhyanyoneshouldobject—Iwasonlytryingtohelpthevicar—andthepoormanwhowastryingtofindhislostchild—Thereweare—backtothelostchildmotifagain—Mrs.Lancastertalkedaboutapoorchildwalledupbehindafireplace,andMrs.Copleighchatteredaboutwalled-upnunsandmurderedchildren,andamotherwhokilledababy,andalover,andanillegitimatebaby,andasuicide—It’salloldtalesandgossipandhearsayandlegends,mixedupinthemostgloriouskindofhastypudding!Allthesame,Tommy,therewasoneactualfact—notjusthearsayorlegend—”
“Youmean?”
“ImeanthatinthechimneyofthisCanalHouse,thisoldragdollfellout—Achild’sdoll.Ithadbeenthereavery,verylongtime,allcoveredwithsootandrubble—”
“Pitywehaven’tgotit,”saidTommy
“Ihave,”saidTuppence.Shespoketriumphantly.
“Youbroughtitawaywithyou?”
“Yes.Itstartledme,youknow.IthoughtI’dliketotakeitandexamineit.Nobodywanteditoranything.IshouldimaginethePerryswouldjusthavethrownitintotheashcanstraightaway.I’vegotithere.”
Sherosefromhersofa,wenttohersuitcase,rummagedalittleandthenbroughtoutsomethingwrappedinnewspaper.
“Hereyouare,Tommy,havealook.”
WithsomecuriosityTommyunwrappedthenewspaper.Hetookoutcarefullythewreckofachild’sdoll.Itslimparmsandlegshungdown,faintfestoonsofclothingdroppedoffashetouchedthem.Thebodyseemedmadeofaverythinsuedeleathersewnupoverabodythathadoncebeenplumpwithsawdustandnowwassaggingbecausehereandtherethesawdusthadescaped.AsTommyhandledit,andhewasquitegentleinhistouch,thebodysuddenlydisintegrated,flappingoverinagreatwoundfromwhichtherepouredoutacupfulofsawdustandwithitsmallpebblesthatrantoandfroaboutthefloor.Tommywentroundpickingthemupcarefully.
“GoodLord,”hesaidtohimself,“GoodLord!”
“Howodd,”Tuppencesaid,“it’sfullofpebbles.Isthatabitofthechimneydisintegrating,doyouthink?Theplasterorsomethingcrumblingaway?”
“No,”saidTommy.“Thesepebbleswereinsidethebody.”
Hehadgatheredthemupnowcarefully,hepokedhisfingerintothecarcaseofthedollandafewmorepebblesfellout.Hetookthemovertothewindowandturnedthemoverinhishand.Tuppencewatchedhimwithuncomprehendingeyes.
“It’safunnyidea,stuffingadollwithpebbles,”shesaid.
“Well,they’renotexactlytheusualkindofpebbles,”saidTommy.“Therewasaverygoodreasonforit,Ishouldimagine.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Havealookatthem.Handleafew.”
Shetooksomewonderinglyfromhishand
“They’renothingbutpebbles,”shesaid.“Someareratherlargeandsomesmall.Whyareyousoexcited?”
“Because,Tuppence,I’mbeginningtounderstandthings.Thosearen’tpebbles,mydeargirl,they’rediamonds.”
Fifteen
EVENINGATTHEVICARAGE
“Diamonds!”Tuppencegasped.
Lookingfromhimtothepebblesshestillheldinherhand,shesaid:
“Thesedusty-lookingthings,diamonds?”
Tommynodded.
“It’sbeginningtomakesensenow,yousee,Tuppence.Ittiesup.TheCanalHouse.Thepicture.YouwaituntilIvorSmithhearsaboutthatdoll.He’sgotabouquetwaitingforyoualready,Tuppence—”
“Whatfor?”
“Forhelpingtoroundupabigcriminalgang!”
“YouandyourIvorSmith!Isupposethat’swhereyou’vebeenallthislastweek,abandoningmeinmylastdaysofconvalescenceinthatdrearyhospital—justwhenIwantedbrilliantconversationandalotofcheeringup.”
“Icameinvisitinghourspracticallyeveryevening.”
“Youdidn’ttellmemuch.”
“Iwaswarnedbythatdragonofasisternottoexciteyou.ButIvorhimselfiscomingherethedayaftertomorrow,andwe’vegotalittlesocialeveninglaidonatthevicarage.”
“Who’scoming?”
“Mrs.Boscowan,oneofthebiglocallandowners,yourfriendMissNellieBligh,thevicar,ofcourse,youandI—”
“AndMr.IvorSmith—what’shisrealname?”
“AsfarasIknow,it’sIvorSmith.”
“Youarealwayssocautious—”Tuppencelaughedsuddenly.
“What’samusingyou?”
“IwasjustthinkingthatI’dliketohaveseenyouandAlbertdiscoveringsecretdrawersinAuntAda’sdesk.”
“AllthecreditgoestoAlbert.Hepositivelydeliveredalectureonthesubject.Helearntallaboutitinhisyouthfromanantiquedealer.”
“FancyyourAuntAdareallyleavingasecretdocumentlikethat,alldoneupwithsealsallover.Shedidn’tactuallyknowanything,butshewasreadytobelievetherewassomebodyinSunnyRidgewhowasdangerous.IwonderifsheknewitwasMissPackard.”
“That’sonlyyouridea.”
“It’saverygoodideaifitsacriminalgangwe’relookingfor.They’dneedaplacelikeSunnyRidge,respectableandwellrun,withacompetentcriminaltorunit.Someoneproperlyqualifiedtohaveaccesstodrugswheneversheneededthem.Andbyacceptinganydeathsthatoccurredasquitenatural,itwouldinfluenceadoctortothinktheywerequiteallright.”
“You’vegotitalltapedout,butactuallytherealreasonyoustartedtosuspectMissPackardwasbecauseyoudidn’tlikeherteeth—”
“Thebettertoeatyouwith,”saidTuppencemeditatively.“I’lltellyousomethingelse,Tommy—Supposingthispicture—thepictureoftheCanalHouse—neverbelongedtoMrs.Lancasteratall—”
“Butweknowitdid.”Tommystaredather.
“No,wedon’t.WeonlyknowthatMissPackardsaidso—ItwasMissPackardwhosaidthatMrs.LancastergaveittoAuntAda.”
“Butwhyshould—”Tommystopped—
“Perhapsthat’swhyMrs.Lancasterwastakenaway—sothatsheshouldn’ttellusthatthepicturedidn’tbelongtoher,andthatshedidn’tgiveittoAuntAda.”
“Ithinkthat’saveryfar-fetchedidea.”
“Perhaps—ButthepicturewaspaintedinSuttonChancellor—ThehouseinthepictureisahouseinSuttonChancellor—We’vereasontobelievethatthathouseis—orwas—usedasoneoftheirhidey-holesbyacriminalassociation—Mr.Ecclesisbelievedtobethemanbehindthisgang.Mr.EccleswasthemanresponsibleforsendingMrs.JohnsontoremoveMrs.Lancaster.Idon’tbelieveMrs.LancasterwaseverinSuttonChancellor,orwaseverintheCanalHouse,orhadapictureofit—thoughIthinksheheardsomeoneatSunnyRidgetalkaboutit—Mrs.Cocoaperhaps?Soshestartedchattering,andthatwasdangerous,soshehadtoberemoved.AndonedayIshallfindher!Markmywords,Tommy.”
“TheQuestofMrs.ThomasBeresford.”
II
“Youlookremarkablywell,ifImaysayso,Mrs.Tommy,”saidMr.IvorSmith
“I’mfeelingperfectlywellagain,”saidTuppence.“Sillyofmetoletmyselfgetknockedout,Isuppose.”
“Youdeserveamedal—Especiallyforthisdollbusiness.Howyougetontothesethings,Idon’tknow!”
“She’stheperfectterrier,”saidTommy.“Putshernosedownonthetrailandoffshegoes.”
“You’renotkeepingmeoutofthispartytonight,”saidTuppencesuspiciously.
“Certainlynot.Acertainamountofthings,youknow,havebeenclearedup.Ican’ttellyouhowgratefulIamtoyoutwo.Weweregettingsomewhere,mindyou,withthisremarkablycleverassociationofcriminalswhohavebeenresponsibleforastupendousamountofrobberiesoverthelastfiveorsixyears.AsItoldTommywhenhecametoaskmeifIknewanythingaboutourcleverlegalgentleman,Mr.Eccles,we’vehadoursuspicionsofhimforalongtimebuthe’snotthemanyou’lleasilygetevidenceagainst.Toocarefulbyfar.Hepractisesasasolicitor—anordinarygenuinebusinesswithperfectlygenuineclients.
“AsItoldTommy,oneoftheimportantpointshasbeenthischainofhouses.Genuinerespectablehouseswithquitegenuinerespectablepeoplelivinginthem,livingthereforashorttime—thenleaving.
“Now,thankstoyou,Mrs.Tommy,andyourinvestigationofchimneysanddeadbirds,we’vefoundquitecertainlyoneofthosehouses.Thehousewhereaparticularamountofthespoilwasconcealed.It’sbeenquiteacleversystem,youknow,gettingjewelsorvariousthingsofthatkindchangedintopacketsofroughdiamonds,hidingthem,andthenwhenthetimecomestheyareflownabroad,ortakenabroadinfishingboats,whenallthehueandcryaboutoneparticularrobberyhasdieddown.”
“WhataboutthePerrys?Arethey—Ihopethey’renot—mixedupinit?”
“Onecan’tbesure,”saidMr.Smith.“No,onecan’tbesure.ItseemslikelytomethatMrs.Perry,atleast,knowssomething,orcertainlyknewsomethingonce.”
“Doyoumeanshereallyisoneofthecriminals?”
“Itmightn’tbethat.Itmightbe,youknow,thattheyhadaholdonher.”
“Whatsortofhold?”
“Well,you’llkeepthisconfidential,Iknowyoucanholdyourtongueinthesethings,butthelocalpolicehavealwayshadtheideathatthehusband,AmosPerry,mightjustpossiblyhavebeenthemanwhowasresponsibleforawaveofchildmurdersagoodmanyyearsago.Heisnotfullycompetentmentally.Themedicalopinionwasthathemightquiteeasilyhavehadacompulsiontodoawaywithchildren.Therewasneveranydirectevidence,buthiswifewasperhapsoveranxioustoprovidehimalwayswithadequatealibis.Ifso,yousee,thatmightgiveagangofunscrupulouspeopleaholdonherandtheymayhaveputherinastenantofpartofahousewheretheyknewshe’dkeephermouthshut.Theymayreallyhavehadsomeformofdamagingevidenceagainstherhusband.Youmetthem—whatdoyoufeelaboutthemboth,Mrs.Tommy?”
“Ilikedher,”saidTuppence.“Ithinkshewas—well,asIsayIsummedherupasafriendlywitch,giventowhitemagicbutnotblack.”
“Whatabouthim?”
“Iwasfrightenedofhim,”saidTuppence.“Notallthetime.Justonceortwice.Heseemedsuddenlytogobigandterrifying.Justforaminuteortwo.Icouldn’tthinkwhatIwasfrightenedof,butIwasfrightened.Isuppose,asyousay,Ifeltthathewasn’tquiterightinhishead.”
“Alotofpeoplearelikethat,”saidMr.Smith.“Andveryoftenthey’renotdangerousatall.Butyoucan’ttell,andyoucan’tbesure.”
“Whatarewegoingtodoatthevicaragetonight?”
“Asksomequestions.Seeafewpeople.Findoutthingsthatmaygiveusalittlemoreoftheinformationweneed.”
“WillMajorWatersbethere?Themanwhowrotetothevicarabouthischild?”
“Theredoesn’tseemtobeanysuchperson!Therewasacoffinburiedwheretheoldgravestonehadbeenremoved—achild’scoffin,leadlined—Anditwasfullofloot.JewelsandgoldobjectsfromaburglarynearSt.Albans.Thelettertothevicarwaswiththeobjectoffindingoutwhathadhappenedtothegrave.Thelocallads’sabotagehadmessedthingsup.”
III
“Iamsodeeplysorry,mydear,”saidthevicar,comingtomeetTuppencewithbothhandsoutstretched.“Yes,indeed,mydear,Ihavebeensoterriblyupsetthatthisshouldhappentoyouwhenyouhavebeensokind.Whenyouweredoingthistohelpme.Ireallyfelt—yes,indeedIhave,thatitwasallmyfault.Ishouldn’thaveletyougopokingamonggravestones,thoughreallywehadnoreasontobelieve—noreasonatall—thatsomebandofyounghooligans—”
“Nowdon’tdisturbyourself,Vicar,”saidMissBligh,suddenlyappearingathiselbow.“Mrs.Beresfordknows,I’msure,thatitwasnothingtodowithyou.Itwasindeedextremelykindofhertooffertohelp,butit’sallovernow,andshe’squitewellagain.Aren’tyou,Mrs.Beresford?”
“Certainly,”saidTuppence,faintlyannoyed,however,thatMissBlighshouldanswerforherhealthsoconfidently.
“Comeandsitdownhereandhaveacushionbehindyourback,”saidMissBligh.
“Idon’tneedacushion,”saidTuppence,refusingtoacceptthechairthatMissBlighwasofficiouslypullingforward.Instead,shesatdowninanuprightandexceedinglyuncomfortablechairontheothersideofthefireplace.
Therewasasharpraponthefrontdoorandeveryoneintheroomjumped.MissBlighhurriedout.
“Don’tworry,Vicar,”shesaid.“I’llgo.”
“Please,ifyouwillbesokind.”
Therewerelowvoicesoutsideinthehall,thenMissBlighcamebackshepherdingabigwomaninabrocadeshift,andbehindheraverytallthinman,amanofcadaverousappearance.Tuppencestaredathim.Ablackcloakwasroundhisshoulders,andhisthingauntfacewaslikethefacefromanothercentury.Hemighthavecome,Tuppencethought,straightoutofanElGrecocanvas.
“I’mverypleasedtoseeyou,”saidthevicar,andturned.“MayIintroduceSirPhilipStarke,Mr.andMrs.Beresford.Mr.IvorSmith.Ah!Mrs.Boscowan.I’venotseenyouformany,manyyears—Mr.andMrs.Beresford.”
“I’vemetMr.Beresford,”saidMrs.Boscowan.ShelookedatTuppence.“Howdoyoudo,”shesaid.“I’mgladtomeetyou.Iheardyou’dhadanaccident.”
“Yes.I’mallrightagainnow.”
Theintroductionscompleted,Tuppencesatbackinherchair.Tirednesssweptoverherasitseemedtodorathermorefrequentlythanformerly,whichshesaidtoherselfwaspossiblyaresultofconcussion.Sittingquietly,hereyeshalfclosed,shewasneverthelessscrutinizingeveryoneintheroomwithcloseattention.Shewasnotlisteningtotheconversation,shewasonlylooking.Shehadafeelingthatafewofthecharactersinthedrama—thedramainwhichshehadunwittinglyinvolvedherself—wereassembledhereastheymightbeinadramaticscene.Thingsweredrawingtogether,formingthemselvesintoacompactnucleus.WiththecomingofSirPhilipStarkeandMrs.Boscowanitwasasthoughtwohithertounrevealedcharactersweresuddenlypresentingthemselves.Theyhadbeenthereallalong,asitwere,outsidethecircle,butnowtheyhadcomeinside.Theyweresomehowconcerned,implicated.Theyhadcomeherethisevening—why,shewondered?Hadsomeonesummonedthem?IvorSmith?Hadhecommandedtheirpresence,oronlygently
AlittlecoldshiverpassedoverTuppence.
“Ithink,”thoughtTuppence,“Ithinkperhapsshe’sdead….”
Ifso,Tuppencefelt,sheherselfhadfailed.ShehadsetoutonherquestworriedaboutMrs.Lancaster,feelingthatMrs.LancasterwasthreatenedwithsomedangerandshehadresolvedtofindMrs.Lancaster,protecther.
“Andifsheisn’tdead,”thoughtTuppence,“I’llstilldoit!”
SuttonChancellor…Thatwaswherethebeginningofsomethingmeaningfulanddangeroushadhappened.Thehousewiththecanalwaspartofit.Perhapsitwasthecentreofitall,orwasitSuttonChancelloritself?Aplacewherepeoplehadlived,hadcometo,hadleft,hadrunaway,hadvanished,haddisappearedandreappeared.LikeSirPhilipStarke.
WithoutturningherheadTuppence’seyeswenttoSirPhilipStarke.SheknewnothingabouthimexceptwhatMrs.Copleighhadpouredoutinthecourseofhermonologueonthegeneralinhabitants.Aquietman,alearnedman,abotanist,anindustrialist,oratleastonewhoownedabigstakeinindustry.Thereforearichman—andamanwholovedchildren.Thereshewas,backatit.Childrenagain.Thehousebythecanalandthebirdinthechimney,andoutofthechimneyhadfallenachild’sdoll,shoveduptherebysomeone.Achild’sdollthatheldwithinitsskinahandfulofdiamonds—theproceedsofcrime.Thiswasoneoftheheadquartersofabigcriminalundertaking.Buttherehadbeencrimesmoresinisterthanrobberies.Mrs.Copleighhadsaid“Ialwaysfanciedmyselfashemighthavedoneit.”
SirPhilipStarke.Amurderer?Behindherhalf-closedeyelids,Tuppencestudiedhimwiththeknowledgeclearlyinhermindthatshewasstudyinghimtofindoutifhefittedinanywaywithherconceptionofamurderer—andachildmurdereratthat.
Howoldwashe,shewondered.Seventyatleast,perhapsolder.Awornasceticface.Yes,definitelyascetic.Verydefinitelyatorturedface.Thoselargedarkeyes.ElGrecoeyes.Theemaciatedbody.
Hehadcomeherethisevening,why,shewondered?HereyeswentontoMissBligh.Sittingalittlerestlesslyinherchair,occasionallymovingtopushatablenearersomeone,toofferacushion,tomovethepositionofthecigaretteboxormatches.Restless,illatease.ShewaslookingatPhilipStarke.Everytimesherelaxed,hereyeswenttohim.
“Doglikedevotion,”thoughtTuppence.“Ithinkshemusthavebeeninlovewithhimonce.Ithinkinawayperhapsshestillis.Youdon’tstopbeinginlovewithanyonebecauseyougetold.PeoplelikeDerekandDeborahthinkyoudo.Theycan’timagineanyonewhoisn’tyoungbeinginlove.ButIthinkshe—Ithinksheisstillinlovewithhim,hopelessly,devotedlyinlove.Didn’tsomeonesay—wasitMrs.Copleighorthevicarwhohadsaid,thatMissBlighhadbeenhissecretaryasayoungwoman,thatshestilllookedafterhisaffairshere?
“Well,”thoughtTuppence,“it’snaturalenough.Secretariesoftenfallinlovewiththeirbosses.SosayGertrudeBlighhadlovedPhilipStarke.Wasthatausefulfactatall?HadMissBlighknownorsuspectedthatbehindPhilipStarke’scalmasceticpersonalitythereranahorrifyingthreadofmadness?Sofondofchildrenalways.”
“Toofondofchildren,Ithought,”Mrs.Copleighhadsaid.
Thingsdidtakeyoulikethat.Perhapsthatwasareasonforhislookingsotortured.
“Unlessoneisapathologistorapsychiatristorsomething,onedoesn’tknowanythingaboutmadmurderers,”thoughtTuppence.“Whydotheywanttokillchildren?Whatgivesthemthaturge?Aretheysorryaboutitafterwards?Aretheydisgusted,aretheydesperatelyunhappy,aretheyterrified?”
Atthatmomentshenoticedthathisgazehadfallenonher.Hiseyesmethersandseemedtoleavesomemessage.
“Youarethinkingaboutme,”thoseeyessaid.“Yes,it’struewhatyouarethinking.Iamahauntedman.”
Yes,thatdescribedhimexactly—Hewasahauntedman.
Shewrenchedhereyesaway.Hergazewenttothevicar.Shelikedthevicar.Hewasadear.Didheknowanything?Hemight,Tuppencethought,orhemightbelivinginthemiddleofsomeeviltanglethatheneverevensuspected.Thingshappenedallroundhim,perhaps,buthewouldn’tknowaboutthem,becausehehadthatratherdisturbingqualityofinnocence.
Mrs.Boscowan?ButMrs.Boscowanwasdifficulttoknowanythingabout.Amiddle-agedwoman,apersonality,asTommyhadsaid,butthatdidn’texpressenough.AsthoughTuppencehadsummonedher,Mrs.Boscowanrosesuddenlytoherfeet.
“DoyoumindifIgoupstairsandhaveawash?”shesaid.
“Oh!ofcourse.”MissBlighjumpedtoherfeet.“I’lltakeyouup,shallI,Vicar?”
“Iknowmywayperfectly,”saidMrs.Boscowan.“Don’tbother—Mrs.Beresford?”
Tuppencejumpedslightly.
“I’llshowyou,”saidMrs.Boscowan,“wherethingsare.Comewithme.”
Tuppencegotupasobedientlyasachild.Shedidnotdescribeitsotoherself.ButsheknewthatshehadbeensummonedandwhenMrs.Boscowansummoned,youobeyed.
BythenMrs.BoscowanwasthroughthedoortothehallandTuppencehadfollowedher.Mrs.Boscowanstartedupthestairs—Tuppencecameupbehindher.
“Thespareroomisatthetopofthestairs,”saidMrs.Boscowan.“It’salwayskeptready.Ithasabathroomleadingoutofit.”
Sheopenedthedooratthetopofthestairs,wentthrough,switchedonthelightandTuppencefollowedherin.
“I’mverygladtohavefoundyouhere,”saidMrs.Boscowan.“IhopedIshould.Iwasworriedaboutyou.Didyourhusbandtellyou?”
“Igatheredyou’dsaidsomething,”saidTuppence.
“Yes,Iwasworried.”Sheclosedthedoorbehindthem,shuttingthem,asitwere,intoaprivateplaceofprivateconsultation.“Haveyoufeltatall,”saidEmmaBoscowan,“thatSuttonChancellorisadangerousplace?”
“It’sbeendangerousforme,”saidTuppence.
“Yes,Iknow.It’sluckyitwasn’tworse,butthen—yes,IthinkIcanunderstandthat.”
“Youknowsomething,”saidTuppence.“Youknowsomethingaboutallthis,don’tyou?”
“Inaway,”saidEmmaBoscowan,“inawayIdo,andinawayIdon’t.Onehasinstincts,feelings,youknow.Whentheyturnouttoberight,it’sworrying.Thiswholecriminalgangbusiness,itseemssoextraordinary.Itdoesn’tseemtohaveanythingtodowith—”Shestoppedabruptly.
“Imean,it’sjustoneofthosethingsthataregoingon—thathavealwaysgoneonreally.Butthey’reverywellorganizednow,likebusinesses.There’snothingreallydangerous,youknow,notaboutthecriminalpartofit.It’stheother.It’sknowingjustwherethedangerisandhowtoguardagainstit.Youmustbecareful,Mrs.Beresford,youreallymust.You’reoneofthosepeoplewhorushintothingsanditwouldn’tbesafetodothat.Nothere.”
Tuppencesaidslowly,“Myoldaunt—orratherTommy’soldaunt,shewasn’tmine—someonetoldherinthenursinghomewhereshedied—thattherewasakiller.”
Emmanoddedherheadslowly.
“Thereweretwodeathsinthatnursinghome,”saidTuppence,“andthedoctorisn’tsatisfiedaboutthem.”
“Isthatwhatstartedyouoff?”
“No,”saidTuppence,“itwasbeforethat.”
“Ifyouhavetime,”saidEmmaBoscowan,“willyoutellmeveryquickly—asquicklyasyoucanbecausesomeonemayinterruptus—justwhathappenedatthatnursinghomeoroldladies’homeorwhateveritwas,tostartyouoff?”
“Yes,Icantellyouveryquickly,”saidTuppence.Sheproceededtodoso.
“Isee,”saidEmmaBoscowan.“Andyoudon’tknowwherethisoldlady,thisMrs.Lancaster,isnow?”
“No,Idon’t.”
“Doyouthinkshe’sdead?”
“Ithinkshe—mightbe.”
“Becausesheknewsomething?”
“Yes.Sheknewaboutsomething.Somemurder.Somechildperhapswhowaskilled.”
“Ithinkyou’vegonewrongthere,”saidMrs.Boscowan.“Ithinkthechildgotmixedupinitandperhapsshegotitmixedup.Youroldlady,Imean.Shegotthechildmixedupwithsomethingelse,someotherkindofkilling.”
“Isupposeit’spossible.Oldpeopledogetmixedup.Buttherewasachildmurdererloosehere,wasn’tthere?OrsothewomanIlodgedwithheresaid.”
“Therewereseveralchildmurdersinthispartofthecountry,yes.Butthatwasagoodlongtimeago,youknow.I’mnotsure.Thevicarwouldn’tknow.Hewasn’ttherethen.ButMissBlighwas.Yes,yes,shemusthavebeenhere.Shemusthavebeenafairlyyounggirlthen.”
“Isupposeso.”
Tuppencesaid,“HasshealwaysbeeninlovewithSirPhilipStarke?”
“Yousawthat,didyou?Yes,Ithinkso.Completelydevotedbeyondidolatry.Wenoticeditwhenwefirstcamehere,WilliamandI.”
“Whatmadeyoucomehere?DidyouliveintheCanalHouse?”
“No,weneverlivedthere.Helikedtopaintit.Hepainteditseveraltimes.What’shappenedtothepictureyourhusbandshowedme?”
“Hebroughtithomeagain,”saidTuppence.“Hetoldmewhatyousaidabouttheboat—thatyourhusbanddidn’tpaintit—theboatcalledWaterlily—”
“Yes.Itwasn’tpaintedbymyhusband.WhenIlastsawthepicturetherewasnoboatthere.Somebodypainteditin.”
“AndcalleditWaterlily—Andamanwhodidn’texist,MajorWaters—wroteaboutachild’sgrave—achildcalledLilian—buttherewasnochildburiedinthatgrave,onlyachild’scoffin,fulloftheproceedsofabigrobbery.Thepaintingoftheboatmusthavebeenamessage—amessagetosaywherethelootwashidden—Itallseemstotieupwithcrime….”
“Itseemsto,yes—Butonecan’tbesurewhat—”
EmmaBoscowanbrokeoffabruptly.Shesaidquickly,“She’scominguptofindus.Gointothebathroom—”
“Who?”
“NellieBligh.Popintothebathroom—boltthedoor.”
“She’sjustabusybody,”saidTuppence,disappearingintothebathroom.
“Somethingalittlemorethanthat,”saidMrs.Boscowan.
MissBlighopenedthedoorandcamein,briskandhelpful.
“Oh,Ihopeyoufoundeverythingyouwanted?”shesaid.“Therewerefreshtowelsandsoap,Ihope?Mrs.Copleighcomesintolookafterthevicar,butIreallyhavetoseeshedoesthingsproperly.”
Mrs.BoscowanandMissBlighwentdownstairstogether.Tuppencejoinedthemjustastheyreachedthedrawingroomdoor.SirPhilipStarkeroseasshecameintotheroom,rearrangedherchairandsatdownbesideher.
“Isthatthewayyoulikeit,Mrs.Beresford?”
“Yes,thankyou,”saidTuppence.“It’sverycomfortable.”
“I’msorrytohear—”hisvoicehadavaguecharmtoit,thoughithadsomeelementsofaghostlikevoice,faraway,lackinginresonance,yetwithacuriousdepth—“aboutyouraccident,”hesaid.“It’ssosadnowadays—alltheaccidentsthereare.”
Hiseyeswerewanderingoverherfaceandshethoughttoherself,“He’smakingjustasmuchastudyofmeasImadeofhim.”Shegaveasharphalf-glanceatTommy,butTommywastalkingtoEmmaBoscowan.
“WhatmadeyoucometoSuttonChancellorinthefirstplace,Mrs.Beresford?”
“Oh,we’relookingforahouseinthecountryinavaguesortofway,”saidTuppence.“MyhusbandwasawayfromhomeattendingsomecongressorotherandIthoughtI’dhaveatourroundalikelypartofthecountryside—justtoseewhattherewasgoing,andthekindofpriceonewouldhavetopay,youknow.”
“Ihearyouwentandlookedatthehousebythecanalbridge?”
“Yes,Idid.IbelieveI’doncenoticeditfromthetrain.It’saveryattractive-lookinghouse—fromtheoutside.”
“Yes.Ishouldimagine,though,thateventheoutsideneedsagreatdealdoingtoit,totheroofandthingslikethat.Notsoattractiveonthewrongside,isit?”
“No,itseemstomeacuriouswaytodivideupahouse.”
“Ohwell,”saidPhilipStarke,“peoplehavedifferentideas,don’tthey?”
“Youneverlivedinit,didyou?”askedTuppence.
“No,no,indeed.Myhousewasburntdownmanyyearsago.There’spartofitleftstill.Iexpectyou’veseenitorhaditpointedouttoyou.It’sabovethisvicarage,youknow,abitupthehill.Atleastwhattheycallahillinthispartoftheworld.Itwasnevermuchtoboastof.Myfatherbuiltitwaybackin1890orso.Aproudmansion.Gothicoverlays,atouchofBalmoral.Ourarchitectsnowadaysratheradmirethatkindofthingagain,thoughactuallyfortyyearsagoitwasshudderedat.Ithadeverythingaso-calledgentleman’shouseoughttohave.”Hisvoicewasgentlyironic.“Abilliardroom,amorningroom,ladies’parlour,colossaldiningroom,aballroom,aboutfourteenbedrooms,andoncehad—orsoIshouldimagine—astaffoffourteenservantstolookafterit.”
“Yousoundasthoughyouneverlikeditmuchyourself.”
“Ineverdid.Iwasadisappointmenttomyfather.Hewasaverysuccessfulindustrialist.HehopedIwouldfollowinhisfootsteps.Ididn’t.Hetreatedmeverywell.Hegavemealargeincome,orallowance—asitusedtobecalled—andletmegomyownway.”
“Iheardyouwereabotanist.”
“Well,thatwasoneofmygreatrelaxations.Iusedtogolookingforwildflowers,especiallyintheBalkans.HaveyoueverbeentotheBalkanslookingforwildflowers?It’sawonderfulplaceforthem.”
“Itsoundsveryattractive.Thenyouusedtocomebackandlivehere?”
“Ihaven’tlivedhereforagreatmanyyearsnow.Infact,I’veneverbeenbacktoliveheresincemywifedied.”
“Oh,”saidTuppence,slightlyembarrassed.“Oh,I’m—I’msorry.”
“It’squitealongtimeagonow.Shediedbeforethewar.In1938.Shewasaverybeautifulwoman,”hesaid.
“Doyouhavepicturesofherinyourhouseherestill?”
“Ohno,thehouseisempty.Allthefurniture,picturesandthingsweresentawaytobestored.There’sjustabedroomandanofficeandasittingroomwheremyagentcomes,orIcomeifIhavetocomedownhereandseetoanyestatebusiness.”
“It’sneverbeensold?”
“No.There’ssometalkofhavingadevelopmentofthelandthere.Idon’tknow.NotthatIhaveanyfeelingforit.Myfatherhopedthathewasstartingakindoffeudaldomain.Iwastosucceedhimandmychildrenweretosucceedmeandsoonandsoonandsoon.”Hepausedaminuteandsaidthen,“ButJuliaandIneverhadanychildren.”
“Oh,”saidTuppencesoftly,“Isee.”
“Sothere’snothingtocomeherefor.InfactIhardlyeverdo.AnythingthatneedstobedonehereNellieBlighdoesforme.”Hesmiledoverather.“She’sbeenthemostwonderfulsecretary.Shestillattendstomybusinessaffairsoranythingofthatkind.”
“Younevercomehereandyetyoudon’twanttosellit?”saidTuppence.
“There’saverygoodreasonwhynot,”saidPhilipStarke.
Afaintsmilepassedovertheausterefeatures.
“PerhapsafterallIdoinheritsomeofmyfather’sbusinesssense.Theland,youknow,isimprovingenormouslyinvalue.It’sabetterinvestmentthanmoneywouldbe,ifIsoldit.Appreciateseveryday.Someday,whoknows,we’llhaveagrandnewdormitorytownbuiltonthatland.”
“Thenyou’llberich?”
“ThenI’llbeanevenrichermanthanIamatpresent,”saidSirPhilip.“AndI’mquiterichenough.”
“Whatdoyoudomostofthetime?”
“Itravel,andIhaveinterestsinLondon.Ihaveapicturegallerythere.I’mbywayofbeinganartdealer.Allthosethingsareinteresting.Theyoccupyone’stime—tillthemomentwhenthehandislaidonyourshoulderwhichsays‘Depart.’”
“Don’t,”saidTuppence.“Thatsounds—itgivesmetheshivers.”
“Itneedn’tgiveyoutheshivers.Ithinkyou’regoingtohavealonglife,Mrs.Beresford,andaveryhappyone.”
“Well,I’mveryhappyatpresent,”saidTuppence.“IsupposeIshallgetalltheachesandpainsandtroublesthatoldpeopledoget.Deafandblindandarthritisandafewotherthings.”
“Youprobablywon’tmindthemasmuchasyouthinkyouwill.IfImaysayso,withoutbeingrude,youandyourhusbandseemtohaveaveryhappylifetogether.”
“Oh,wehave,”saidTuppence.“Isupposereally,”shesaid,“there’snothinginlifelikebeinghappilymarried,isthere?”
Amomentlatershewishedshehadnotutteredthesewords.Whenshelookedatthemanoppositeher,whoshefelthadgrievedforsomanyyearsandindeedmightstillbegrievingforthelossofaverymuchlovedwife,shefeltevenmoreangrywithherself.
Sixteen
THEMORNINGAFTER
Itwasthemorningaftertheparty.
IvorSmithandTommypausedintheirconversationandlookedateachother,thentheylookedatTuppence.Tuppencewasstaringintothegrate.Hermindlookedfaraway.
“Wherehavewegotto?”saidTommy.
WithasighTuppencecamebackfromwhereherthoughtshadbeenwandering,andlookedatthetwomen.
“Itseemsalltiedupstilltome,”shesaid.“Thepartylastnight?Whatwasitfor?Whatdiditallmean?”ShelookedatIvorSmith.“Isupposeitmeantsomethingtoyoutwo.Youknowwhereweare?”
“Iwouldn’tgoasfarasthat,”saidIvor.“We’renotallafterthesamething,arewe?”
“Notquite,”saidTuppence.
Themenbothlookedatherinquiringly.
“Allright,”saidTuppence.“I’mawomanwithanobsession.IwanttofindMrs.Lancaster.Iwanttobesurethatshe’sallright.”
“YouwanttofindMrs.Johnsonfirst,”saidTommy.“You’llneverfindMrs.LancastertillyoufindMrs.Johnson.”
“Mrs.Johnson,”saidTuppence.“Yes,Iwonder—ButIsupposenoneofthatpartofitinterestsyou,”shesaidtoIvorSmith.
“Ohitdoes,Mrs.Tommy,itdoesverymuch.”
“WhataboutMr.Eccles?”
Ivorsmiled.“Ithink,”hesaid,“thatretributionmightbeovertakingMr.Ecclesshortly.Still,Iwouldn’tbankonit.He’samanwhocovershistrackswithincredibleingenuity.Somuchso,thatoneimaginesthattherearen’treallyanytracksatall.”Headdedthoughtfullyunderhisbreath,“Agreatadministrator.Agreatplanner.”
“Lastnight—”beganTuppence,andhesitated—“CanIaskquestions?”
“Youcanaskthem,”Tommytoldher.“Butdon’tbankongettinganysatisfactoryanswersfromoldIvorhere.”
“SirPhilipStarke,”saidTuppence—“Wheredoeshecomein?Hedoesn’tseemtofitasalikelycriminal—unlesshewasthekindthat—”
Shestopped,hastilybitingoffareferencetoMrs.Copleigh’swildersuppositionsastochildmurderers—
“SirPhilipStarkecomesinasaveryvaluablesourceofinformation,”saidIvorSmith.“He’sthebiggestlandownerintheseparts—andinotherpartsofEnglandaswell.”
“InCumberland?”
IvorSmithlookedatTuppencesharply.“Cumberland?WhydoyoumentionCumberland?WhatdoyouknowaboutCumberland,Mrs.Tommy?”
“Nothing,”saidTuppence.“Forsomereasonorotheritjustcameintomyhead.”Shefrownedandlookedperplexed.“Andaredandwhitestripedroseonthesideofahouse—oneofthoseold-fashionedroses.”
Sheshookherhead.
“DoesSirPhilipStarkeowntheCanalHouse?”
“Heownstheland—Heownsmostofthelandhereabouts.”
“Yes,hesaidsolastnight.”
“Throughhim,we’velearnedagooddealaboutleasesandtenanciesthathavebeencleverlyobscuredthroughlegalcomplexities—”
“ThosehouseagentsIwenttoseeintheMarketSquare—Istheresomethingphonyaboutthem,ordidIimagineit?”
“Youdidn’timagineit.We’regoingtopaythemavisitthismorning.Wearegoingtoasksomeratherawkwardquestions.”
“Good,”saidTuppence.
“We’redoingquitenicely.We’veclearedupthebigpostofficerobberyof1965,andtheAlburyCrossrobberies,andtheIrishMailtrainbusiness.We’vefoundsomeoftheloot.Cleverplacestheymanufacturedinthesehouses.Anewbathinstalledinone,aserviceflatmadeinanother—acoupleofitsroomsalittlesmallerthantheyoughttohavebeentherebyprovidingforaninterestingrecess.Ohyes,we’vefoundoutagreatdeal.”
“Butwhataboutthepeople?”saidTuppence.“Imeanthepeoplewhothoughtofit,orranit—apartfromMr.Eccles,Imean.Theremusthavebeenotherswhoknewsomething.”
“Ohyes.Therewereacoupleofmen—onewhorananightclub,convenientlyjustofftheM1.HappyHamishtheyusedtocallhim.Slipperyasaneel.AndawomantheycalledKillerKate—butthatwasalongtimeago—oneofourmoreinterestingcriminals.Abeautifulgirl,buthermentalbalancewasdoubtful.Theyeasedherout—shemighthavebecomeadangertothem.Theywereastrictlybusinessconcern—initforloot—notformurder.”
“AndwastheCanalHouseoneoftheirhideawayplaces?”
“Atonetime,Ladymead,theycalleditthen.It’shadalotofdifferentnamesinitstime.”
“Justtomakethingsmoredifficult,Isuppose,”saidTuppence.“Ladymead.Iwonderifthattiesupwithsomeparticularthing.”
“Whatshouldittieupwith?”
“Well,itdoesn’treally,”saidTuppence.“Itjuststartedoffanotherhareinmymind,ifyouknowwhatImean.Thetroubleis,”sheadded,“Idon’treallyknowwhatImeanmyselfnow.Thepicture,too.Boscowanpaintedthepictureandthensomebodyelsepaintedaboatintoit,withanameontheboat—”
“TigerLily.”
“No,Waterlily.Andhiswifesaysthathedidn’tpainttheboat.”
“Wouldsheknow?”
“Iexpectshewould.Ifyouweremarriedtoapainter,andespeciallyifyouwereanartistyourself,Ithinkyou’dknowifitwasadifferentstyleofpainting.She’sratherfrightening,Ithink,”saidTuppence.
“Who—Mrs.Boscowan?”
“Yes.IfyouknowwhatImean,powerful.Ratheroverwhelming.”
“Possibly.Yes.”
“Sheknowsthings,”saidTuppence,“butI’mnotsurethatsheknowsthembecausesheknowsthem,ifyouknowwhatImean.”
“Idon’t,”saidTommyfirmly.
“Well,Imean,there’sonewayofknowingthings.Theotherwayisthatyousortoffeelthem.”
“That’sratherthewayyougoinfor,Tuppence.”
“Youcansaywhatyoulike,”saidTuppence,apparentlyfollowingherowntrackofthought,“thewholethingtiesuproundSuttonChancellor.RoundLadymead,orCanalHouseorwhateveryouliketocallit.Andallthepeoplewholivedthere,nowandinpasttimes.SomethingsIthinkmightgobackalongway.”
“You’rethinkingofMrs.Copleigh.”
“Onthewhole,”saidTuppence,“IthinkMrs.Copleighjustputinalotofthingswhichhavemadeeverythingmoredifficult.Ithinkshe’sgotallhertimesanddatesmixeduptoo.”
“Peopledo,”saidTommy,“inthecountry.”
“Iknowthat,”saidTuppence,“Iwasbroughtupinacountryvicarage,afterall.Theydatethingsbyevents,theydon’tdatethembyyears.Theydon’tsay‘thathappenedin1930’or‘thathappenedin1925’orthingslikethat.Theysay‘thathappenedtheyearaftertheoldmillburneddown’or‘thathappenedafterthelightningstruckthebigoakandkilledFarmerJames’or‘thatwastheyearwehadthepolioepidemic.’Sonaturally,ofcourse,thethingstheydorememberdon’tgoinanyparticularsequence.Everything’sverydifficult,”sheadded.“Therearejustbitspokinguphereandthere,ifyouknowwhatImean.Ofcoursethepointis,”saidTuppencewiththeairofsomeonewhosuddenlymakesanimportantdiscovery,“thetroubleisthatI’moldmyself.”
“Youareeternallyyoung,”saidIvorgallantly.
“Don’tbedaft,”saidTuppence,scathingly.I’moldbecauseIrememberthingsthatsameway.I’vegonebacktobeingprimitiveinmyaidstomemory.”
Shegotupandwalkedroundtheroom.
“Thisisanannoyingkindofhotel,”shesaid.
Shewentthroughthedoorintoherbedroomandcamebackagainshakingherhead.
“NoBible,”shesaid.
“Bible?”
“Yes.Youknow,inold-fashionedhotels,they’vealwaysgotaGideonBiblebyyourbed.Isupposesothatyoucangetsavedanymomentofthedayornight.Well,theydon’thavethathere.”
“DoyouwantaBible?”
“Well,Idorather.IwasbroughtupproperlyandIusedtoknowmyBiblequitewell,asanygoodclergyman’sdaughtershould.Butnow,yousee,oneratherforgets.Especiallyastheydon’treadthelessonsproperlyanymoreinchurches.Theygiveyousomenewversionwhereallthewording,Isuppose,istechnicallyrightandapropertranslation,butsoundsnothinglikeitusedto.Whileyoutwogotothehouseagents,IshalldriveintoSuttonChancellor,”sheadded.
“Whatfor?Iforbidyou,”saidTommy.
“Nonsense—I’mnotgoingtosleuth.IshalljustgointothechurchandlookattheBible.Ifit’ssomemodernversion,Ishallgoandaskthevicar,he’llhaveaBible,won’the?Theproperkind,Imean.AuthorizedVersion.”
“WhatdoyouwanttheAuthorizedVersionfor?”
“Ijustwanttorefreshmymemoryoverthosewordsthatwerescratchedonthechild’stombstone…Theyinterestedme.”
“It’sallverywell—butIdon’ttrustyou,Tuppence—don’ttrustyounottogetintotroubleonceyou’reoutofmysight.”
“IgiveyoumywordI’mnotgoingtoprowlaboutingraveyardsanymore.Thechurchonasunnymorningandthevicar’sstudy—that’sall—whatcouldbemoreharmless?”
Tommylookedathiswifedoubtfullyandgavein.
II
Havinglefthercarbythelych-gateatSuttonChancellor,Tuppencelookedroundhercarefullybeforeenteringthechurchprecincts.Shehadthenaturaldistrustofonewhohassufferedgrievousbodilyharminacertaingeographicalspot.Theredidnotonthisoccasionseemtobeanypossibleassailantslurkingbehindthetombstones.
Shewentintothechurch,whereanelderlywomanwasonherkneespolishingsomebrasses.Tuppencetiptoeduptothelecternandmadeatentativeexaminationofthevolumethatrestedthere.Thewomancleaningthebrasseslookedupwithadisapprovingglance.
“I’mnotgoingtostealit,”saidTuppencereassuringly,andcarefullyclosingitagain,shetiptoedoutofthechurch.
Shewouldhavelikedtoexaminethespotwheretherecentexcavationshadtakenplace,butthatshehadundertakenonnoaccounttodo.
“Whosoevershalloffend,”shemurmuredtoherself.“Itmightmeanthat,butifsoitwouldhavetobesomeone—”
Shedrovethecartheshortdistancetothevicarage,gotoutandwentupthepathtothefrontdoor.Sherangbutcouldhearnotinklefrominside.“Bell’sbroken,Iexpect,”saidTuppence,knowingthehabitsofvicaragebells.Shepushedthedooranditrespondedtohertouch.
Shestoodinsideinthehall.Onthehalltablealargeenvelopewithaforeignstamptookupagooddealofspace.ItboretheprintedlegendofaMissionarySocietyinAfrica.
“I’mgladI’mnotamissionary,”thoughtTuppence.
Behindthatvaguethought,therelaysomethingelse,somethingconnectedwithsomehalltablesomewhere,somethingthatsheoughttoremember…Flowers?Leaves?Someletterorparcel?
Atthatmomentthevicarcameoutfromthedoorontheleft.
“Oh,”hesaid.“Doyouwantme?I—oh,it’sMrs.Beresford,isn’tit?”
“Quiteright,”saidTuppence.“WhatIreallycametoaskyouwaswhetherbyanychanceyouhadaBible.”
“Bible,”saidthevicar,lookingratherunexpectedlydoubtful.“ABible.”
“Ithoughtitlikelythatyoumighthave,”saidTuppence.
“Ofcourse,ofcourse,”saidthevicar.“Asamatteroffact,IsupposeI’vegotseveral.I’vegotaGreekTestament,”hesaidhopefully.“That’snotwhatyouwant,Isuppose?”
“No,”saidTuppence.“Iwant,”shesaidfirmly,“theAuthorizedVersion.”
“Ohdear,”saidthevicar.“Ofcourse,theremustbeseveralinthehouse.Yes,several.Wedon’tusethatversioninthechurchnow,I’msorrytosay.Onehastofallinwiththebishop’sideas,youknow,andthebishopisverykeenonmodernization,foryoungpeopleandallthat.Apity,Ithink.Ihavesomanybooksinmylibraryherethatsomeofthem,youknow,getpushedbehindtheothers.ButIthinkIcanfindyouwhatyouwant.Ithinkso.Ifnot,we’llaskMissBligh.She’sheresomewherelookingoutthevasesforthechildrenwhoarrangetheirwildflowersfortheChildren’sCornerinthechurch.”HeleftTuppenceinthehallandwentbackintotheroomwherehehadcomefrom.
Tuppencedidnotfollowhim.Sheremainedinthehall,frowningandthinking.ShelookedupsuddenlyasthedoorattheendofthehallopenedandMissBlighcamethroughit.Shewasholdingupaveryheavymetalvase.
SeveralthingsclickedtogetherinTuppence’shead.
“Ofcourse,”saidTuppence,“ofcourse.”
“Oh,canIhelp—I—oh,it’sMrs.Beresford.”
“Yes,”saidTuppence,andadded,“Andit’sMrs.Johnson,isn’tit?”
Theheavyvasefelltothefloor.Tuppencestoopedandpickeditup.Shestoodweighingitinherhand.“Quiteahandyweapon,”shesaid.Sheputitdown.“Justthethingtocoshanyonewithfrombehind,”shesaid—“That’swhatyoudidtome,didn’tyou,Mrs.Johnson.”
“I—I—whatdidyousay?I—I—Inever—”
ButTuppencehadnoneedtostaylonger.Shehadseentheeffectofherwords.AtthesecondmentionofMrs.Johnson,MissBlighhadgivenherselfawayinanunmistakablefashion.Shewasshakingandpanicstricken.
“Therewasaletteronyourhalltabletheotherday,”saidTuppence,“addressedtoaMrs.YorkeatanaddressinCumberland.That’swhereyoutookher,isn’tit,Mrs.Johnson,whenyoutookherawayfromSunnyRidge?That’swheresheisnow.Mrs.YorkeorMrs.Lancaster—youusedeithername—YorkandLancasterlikethestripedredandwhiteroseinthePerrys’garden—”
SheturnedswiftlyandwentoutofthehouseleavingMissBlighinthehall,stillsupportingherselfonthestairrail,hermouthopen,staringafterher.Tuppencerandownthepathtothegate,jumpedintohercaranddroveaway.Shelookedbacktowardsthefrontdoor,butnooneemerged.TuppencedrovepastthechurchandbacktowardsMarketBasing,butsuddenlychangedhermind.Sheturnedthecar,drovebackthewayshehadcome,andtooktheleft-handroadleadingtotheCanalHousebridge.Sheabandonedthecar,lookedoverthegatetoseeifeitherofthePerryswereinthegarden,buttherewasnosignofthem.Shewentthroughthegateandupthepathtothebackdoor.Thatwasclosedtooandthewindowswereshut.
Tuppencefeltannoyed.PerhapsAlicePerryhadgonetoMarketBasingtoshop.SheparticularlywantedtoseeAlicePerry.Tuppenceknockedatthedoor,rappingfirstgentlythenloudly.Nobodyanswered.Sheturnedthehandlebutthedoordidnotgive.Itwaslocked.Shestoodthere,undecided.
ThereweresomequestionsshewantedbadlytoaskAlicePerry.PossiblyMrs.PerrymightbeinSuttonChancellor.Shemightgobackthere.ThedifficultyofCanalHousewasthatthereneverseemedtobeanyoneinsightandhardlyanytrafficcameoverthebridge.TherewasnoonetoaskwherethePerrysmightbethismorning.
Seventeen
MRS.LANCASTER
Tuppencestoodtherefrowning,andthen,suddenly,quiteunexpectedly,thedooropened.Tuppencedrewbackastepandgasped.Thepersonconfrontingherwasthelastpersonintheworldsheexpectedtosee.Inthedoorway,dressedexactlythesameasshehadbeenatSunnyRidge,andsmilingthesamewaywiththatairofvagueamiability,wasMrs.Lancasterinperson.
“Oh,”saidTuppence.
“Goodmorning.WereyouwantingMrs.Perry?”saidMrs.Lancaster.“It’smarketday,youknow.SoluckyIwasabletoletyouin.Icouldn’tfindthekeyforsometime.Ithinkitmustbeaduplicateanyway,don’tyou?Butdocomein.Perhapsyou’dlikeacupofteaorsomething.”
Likeoneinadream,Tuppencecrossedthethreshold.Mrs.Lancaster,stillretainingthegraciousairofahostess,ledTuppencealongintothesittingroom
“Dositdown,”shesaid.“I’mafraidIdon’tknowwhereallthecupsandthingsare.I’veonlybeenhereadayortwo.Now—letmesee…But—surely—I’vemetyoubefore,haven’tI?”
“Yes,”saidTuppence,“whenyouwereatSunnyRidge.”
“SunnyRidge,now,SunnyRidge.Thatseemstoremindmeofsomething.Oh,ofcourse,dearMissPackard.Yes,averyniceplace.”
“Youleftitinratherahurry,didn’tyou?”saidTuppence.
“Peoplearesoverybossy,”saidMrs.Lancaster.“Theyhurryyouso.Theydon’tgiveyoutimetoarrangethingsorpackproperlyoranything.Kindlymeant,I’msure.Ofcourse,I’mveryfondofdearNellieBligh,butshe’saverymasterfulkindofwoman.Isometimesthink,”Mrs.Lancasteradded,bendingforwardtoTuppence,“Isometimesthink,youknow,thatsheisnotquite—”shetappedherforeheadsignificantly.“Ofcourseitdoeshappen.Especiallytospinsters.Unmarriedwomen,youknow.Verygiventogoodworksandallthatbuttheytakeveryoddfanciessometimes.Curatessufferagreatdeal.Theyseemtothinksometimes,thesewomen,thatthecuratehasmadethemanofferofmarriagebutreallyheneverthoughtofdoinganythingofthekind.Ohyes,poorNellie.Sosensibleinsomeways.She’sbeenwonderfulintheparishhere.Andshewasalwaysafirst-classsecretary,Ibelieve.Butallthesameshehassomeverycuriousideasattimes.Liketakingmeawayatamoment’snoticefromdearSunnyRidge,andthenuptoCumberland—averybleakhouse,and,againquitesuddenly,bringingmehere—”
“Areyoulivinghere?”saidTuppence.
“Well,ifyoucancallitthat.It’saverypeculiararrangementaltogether.I’veonlybeenheretwodays.”
“Beforethat,youwereatRosetrellisCourt,inCumberland—”
“Yes,Ibelievethatwasthenameofit.NotsuchaprettynameasSunnyRidge,doyouthink?InfactIneverreallysettleddown,ifyouknowwhatImean.Anditwasn’tnearlyaswellrun.Theservicewasn’tasgoodandtheyhadaveryinferiorbrandofcoffee.Still,IwasgettingusedtothingsandIhadfoundoneortwointerestingacquaintancesthere.OneofthemwhoknewanauntofminequitewellyearsagoinIndia.It’ssonice,youknow,whenyoufindconnections.”
“Itmustbe,”saidTuppence.
Mrs.Lancastercontinuedcheerfully.
“Nowletmesee,youcametoSunnyRidge,butnottostay,Ithink.Ithinkyoucametoseeoneofthegueststhere.”
“Myhusband’saunt,”saidTuppence,“MissFanshawe.”
“Ohyes.Yesofcourse.Iremembernow.Andwasn’ttheresomethingaboutachildofyoursbehindthechimneypiece?”
“No,”saidTuppence,“no,itwasn’tmychild.”
“Butthat’swhyyou’vecomehere,isn’tit?They’vehadtroublewithachimneyhere.Abirdgotintoit,Iunderstand.Thisplacewantsrepairing.Idon’tlikebeinghereatall.No,notatallandIshalltellNelliesoassoonasIseeher.”
“You’relodgingwithMrs.Perry?”
“Well,inawayIam,andinawayI’mnot.IthinkIcouldtrustyouwithasecret,couldn’tI?”
“Ohyes,”saidTuppence,“youcantrustme.”
“Well,I’mnotreallyhereatall.Imeannotinthispartofthehouse.ThisisthePerrys’partofthehouse.”Sheleanedforward.“There’sanotherone,youknow,ifyougoupstairs.Comewithme.I’lltakeyou.”
Tuppencerose.Shefeltthatshewasinratheracrazykindofdream.
“I’lljustlockthedoorfirst,it’ssafer,”saidMrs.Lancaster.
SheledTuppenceuparathernarrowstaircasetothefirstfloor.Shetookherthroughadoublebedroomwithsignsofoccupation—presumablythePerrys’room—andthroughadoorleadingoutofthatintoanotherroomnextdoor.Itcontainedawashstandandatallwardrobeofmaplewood.Nothingelse.Mrs.Lancasterwenttothemaplewardrobe,fumbledatthebackofit,thenwithsuddeneasepusheditaside.Thereseemedtobecastorsonthewardrobeanditrolledoutfromthewalleasilyenough.Behindthewardrobetherewas,ratherstrangely,Tuppencethought,agrate.Overthemantelpiecetherewasamirrorwithasmallshelfunderthemirroronwhichwerechinafiguresofbirds.
ToTuppence’sastonishmentMrs.Lancasterseizedthebirdinthemiddleofthemantelshelfandgaveitasharppull.Apparentlythebirdwasstucktothemantelpiece.Infact,byaswifttouchTuppenceperceivedthatallthebirdswerefirmlyfasteneddown.ButasaresultofMrs.Lancaster’sactiontherewasaclickandthewholemantelpiececame
“Clever,isn’tit?”saidMrs.Lancaster.“Itwasdonealongtimeago,youknow,whentheyalteredthehouse.Thepriest’shole,youknow,theyusedtocallthisroombutIdon’tthinkitwasreallyapriest’shole.No,nothingtodowithpriests.I’veneverthoughtso.Comethrough.ThisiswhereIlivenow.”
Shegaveanotherpush.Thewallinfrontofheralsoswungbackandaminuteortwolatertheywereinalargeattractive-lookingroomwithwindowsthatgaveoutonthecanalandthehillopposite.
“Alovelyroom,isn’tit?”saidMrs.Lancaster.“Suchalovelyview.Ialwayslikedit.Ilivedhereforatimeasagirl,youknow.”
“Oh,Isee.”
“Notaluckyhouse,”saidMrs.Lancaster.“No,theyalwayssaiditwasn’taluckyhouse.Ithink,youknow,”sheadded,“IthinkI’llshutupthisagain.Onecan’tbetoocareful,canone?”
Shestretchedoutahandandpushedthedoortheyhadcomethroughbackagain.Therewasasharpclickasthemechanismswungintoplace.
“Isuppose,”saidTuppence,“thatthiswasoneofthealterationstheymadetothehousewhentheywantedtouseitasahidingplace.”
“Theydidalotofalterations,”saidMrs.Lancaster.“Sitdown,do.Doyoulikeahighchairoralowone?Ilikeahighonemyself.I’mratherrheumatic,youknow.Isupposeyouthoughttheremighthavebeenachild’sbodythere,”addedMrs.Lancaster.“Anabsurdideareally,don’tyouthinkso?”
“Yes,perhaps.”
“Copsandrobbers,”saidMrs.Lancaster,withanindulgentair.“Oneissofoolishwhenoneisyoung,youknow.Allthatsortofthing.Gangs—bigrobberies—ithassuchanappealforonewhenoneisyoung.Onethinksbeingagunman’smollwouldbethemostwonderfulthingintheworld.Ithoughtsoonce.Believeme—”sheleanedforwardandtappedTuppenceontheknee“—believeme,it’snottrue.Itisn’treally.Ithoughtsoonce,butonewantsmorethanthat,youknow.There’snothrillreallyinjuststealingthingsandgettingawaywithit.Itneedsgoodorganization,ofcourse.”
“YoumeanMrs.JohnsonorMissBligh—whicheveryoucallher—”
“Well,ofcourse,she’salwaysNellieBlightome.Butforsomereasonorother—tofacilitatethings,shesays—shecallsherselfMrs.Johnsonnowandthen.Butshe’sneverbeenmarried,youknow.Ohno.She’saregularspinster.”
Asoundofknockingcametothemfrombelow.
“Dearme,”saidMrs.Lancaster,“thatmustbethePerrysbackagain.I’dnoideatheyweregoingtobebacksosoon.”
Theknockingwenton.
“Perhapsweoughttoletthemin,”suggestedTuppence.
“No,dear,wewon’tdothat,”saidMrs.Lancaster.“Ican’tstandpeoplealwaysinterfering.We’rehavingsuchanicelittletalkuphere,aren’twe?Ithinkwe’lljuststayuphere—ohdear,nowthey’recallingunderthewindow.Justlookoutandseewhoitis.”
Tuppencewenttothewindow.
“It’sMr.Perry,”shesaid.
Frombelow,Mr.Perryshouted,
“Julia!Julia!”
“Impertinence,”saidMrs.Lancaster.“Idon’tallowpeoplelikeAmosPerrytocallmebymyChristianname.No,indeed.Don’tworry,dear,”sheadded,“we’requitesafehere.Andwecanhaveanicelittletalk.I’lltellyouallaboutmyself—I’vereallyhadaveryinterestinglife—Eventful—SometimesIthinkIoughttowriteitdown.Iwasmixedup,yousee.Iwasawildgirl,andIwasmixedupwith—well,reallyjustacommongangofcriminals.Nootherwordforit.Someofthemveryundesirablepeople.Mindyou,therewerenicepeopleamongthem.Quitegoodclass.”
“MissBligh?”
“No,no,MissBlighneverhadanythingtodowithcrime.NotNellieBligh.Ohno,she’sverychurchy,youknow.Religious.Allthat.Buttherearedifferentwaysofreligion.Perhapsyouknowthat,doyou?”
“Isupposetherearealotofdifferentsects,”Tuppencesuggested.
“Yes,therehavetobe,forordinarypeople.Butthereareothersbesidesordinarypeople.Therearesomespecialones,underspecialcommands.Therearespeciallegions.DoyouunderstandwhatImean,mydear?”
“Idon’tthinkIdo,”saidTuppence.“Don’tyouthinkweoughttoletthePerrysintotheirownhouse?They’regettingratherupset—”
“No,we’renotgoingtoletthePerrysin.Nottill—well,nottillI’vetoldyouallaboutit.Youmustn’tbefrightened,mydear.It’sallquite—quitenatural,quiteharmless.There’snopainofanykind.It’llbejustlikegoingtosleep.Nothingworse.”
Tuppencestaredather,thenshejumpedupandwenttowardsthedoorinthewall.
“Youcan’tgetoutthatway,”saidMrs.Lancaster.“Youdon’tknowwherethecatchis.It’snotwhereyouthinkitisatall.OnlyIknowthat.Iknowallthesecretsofthisplace.IlivedherewiththecriminalswhenIwasagirluntilIwentawayfromthemallandgotsalvation.Specialsalvation.That’swhatwasgiventome—toexpiatemysin—Thechild,youknow—Ikilledit.Iwasadancer—Ididn’twantachild—Overthere,onthewall—that’smypicture—asadancer—”
Tuppencefollowedthepointingfinger.Onthewallhunganoilpainting,fulllength,ofagirlinacostumeofwhitesatinleaveswiththelegend“Waterlily.”
“Waterlilywasoneofmybestroles.Everyonesaidso.”
Tuppencecamebackslowlyandsatdown.ShestaredatMrs.Lancaster.Asshedidsowordsrepeatedinherhead.WordsheardatSunnyRidge.“Wasityourpoorchild?”Shehadbeenfrightenedthen,frightened.Shewasfrightenednow.Shewasasyetnotquitesurewhatshewasfrightenedof,butthesamefearwasthere.Lookingatthatbenignantface,thatkindlysmile.
“Ihadtoobeythecommandsgivenme—Therehavetobeagentsofdestruction.Iwasappointedtothat.Iacceptedmyappointment.Theygofreeofsin,yousee.Imean,thechildrenwentfreeofsin.Theywerenotoldenoughtosin.SoIsentthemtoGloryasIwasappointedtodo.Stillinnocent.Stillnotknowingevil.Youcanseewhatagreathonouritwastobechosen.Tobeoneofthespeciallychosen.Ialwayslovedchildren.Ihadnoneofmyown.Thatwasverycruel,wasn’tit,oritseemedcruel.ButitwasretributionreallyforwhatI’ddone.YouknowperhapswhatI’ddone.”
“No,”saidTuppence.
“Oh,youseemtoknowsomuch.Ithoughtperhapsyou’dknowthattoo.Therewasadoctor.Iwenttohim.IwasonlyseventeenthenandIwasfrightened.Hesaiditwouldbeallrighttohavethechildtakenawaysothatnobodywouldeverknow.Butitwasn’tallright,yousee.Ibegantohavedreams.Ihaddreamsthatthechildwasalwaysthere,askingmewhyithadneverhadlife.Thechildtoldmeitwantedcompanions.Itwasagirl,youknow.Yes,I’msureitwasagirl.Shecameandshewantedotherchildren.ThenIgotthecommand.Icouldn’thaveanychildren.I’dmarriedandIthoughtI’dhavechildren,thenmyhusbandwantedchildrenpassionatelybutthechildrennevercame,becauseIwascursed,yousee.Youunderstandthat,don’tyou?Buttherewasaway,awaytoatone.ToatoneforwhatI’ddone.WhatI’ddonewasmurder,wasn’tit,andyoucouldonlyatoneformurderwithothermurders,becausetheothermurderswouldn’tbereallymurders,theywouldbesacrifices.Theywouldbeofferedup.Youdoseethedifference,don’tyou?Thechildrenwenttokeepmychildcompany.Childrenofdifferentagesbutyoung.Thecommandwouldcomeandthen—”sheleanedforwardandtouchedTuppence“—itwassuchahappythingtodo.Youunderstandthat,don’tyou?Itwassohappytoreleasethemsothatthey’dneverknowsinlikeIknewsin.Icouldn’ttellanyone,ofcourse,nobodywasevertoknow.ThatwasthethingIhadtobesureabout.Buttherewerepeoplesometimeswhogottoknowortosuspect.Thenofcourse—well,Imeanithadtobedeathforthemtoo,sothatIshouldbesafe.SoI’vealwaysbeenquitesafe.Youunderstand,don’tyou?”
“Not—notquite.”
“Butyoudoknow.That’swhyyoucamehere,isn’tit?Youknew.YouknewthedayIaskedyouatSunnyRidge.Isawbyyourface.Isaid‘Wasityourpoorchild?’Ithoughtyou’dcome,perhapsbecauseyouwereamother.OneofthosewhosechildrenI’dkilled.Ihopedyou’dcomebackanothertimeandthenwe’dhaveaglassofmilktogether.Itwasusuallymilk.Sometimescocoa.Anyonewhoknewaboutme.”
Shemovedslowlyacrosstheroomandopenedacupboardinacorneroftheroom
“Mrs.Moody—”saidTuppence,“wassheone?”
“Oh,youknowabouther—shewasn’tamother—she’dbeenadresseratthetheatre.Sherecognizedmesoshehadtogo.”TurningsuddenlyshecametowardsTuppenceholdingaglassofmilkandsmilingpersuasively.
“Drinkitup,”shesaid.“Justdrinkitup.”
Tuppencesatsilentforamoment,thensheleapttoherfeetandrushedtothewindow.Catchingupachair,shecrashedtheglass.Sheleanedherheadoutandscreamed:
“Help!Help!”
Mrs.Lancasterlaughed.Sheputtheglassofmilkdownonatableandleantbackinherchairandlaughed.
“Howstupidyouare.Whodoyouthinkwillcome?Whodoyouthinkcancome?They’dhavetobreakdowndoors,they’dhavetogetthroughthatwallandbythattime—thereareotherthings,youknow.Itneedn’tbemilk.Milkistheeasyway.Milkandcocoaandeventea.ForlittleMrs.MoodyIputitincocoa—shelovedcocoa.”
“Themorphia?Howdidyougetit?”
“Oh,thatwaseasy.AmanIlivedwithyearsago—hehadcancer—thedoctorgavemesuppliesforhim—tokeepinmycharge—otherdrugstoo—Isaidlaterthatthey’dallbeenthrownaway—butIkeptthem,andotherdrugsandsedativestoo—Ithoughttheymightcomeinusefulsomeday—andtheydid—I’vestillgotasupply—Inevertakeanythingofthekindmyself—Idon’tbelieveinit.”ShepushedtheglassofmilktowardsTuppence—“Drinkitup,it’smuchtheeasiestway.Theotherway—thetroubleis,Ican’tbesurejustwhereIputit.”
Shegotupfromherchairandbeganwalkingroundtheroom.
“WheredidIputit?WheredidI?IforgeteverythingnowI’mgettingold.”
Tuppenceyelledagain.“Help!”butthecanalbankwasemptystill.Mrs.Lancasterwasstillwanderingroundtheroom.
“Ithought—Icertainlythought—oh,ofcourse,inmyknittingbag.”
Tuppenceturnedfromthewindow.Mrs.Lancasterwascomingtowardsher.
“Whatasillywomanyouare,”saidMrs.Lancaster,“towantitthisway.”
HerleftarmshotoutandshecaughtTuppence’sshoulder.Herrighthandcamefrombehindherback.Initwasalongthinstilettoblade.Tuppencestruggled.Shethought,“Icanstophereasily.Easily.She’sanoldwoman.Feeble.Shecan’t—”
Suddenlyinacoldtideoffearshethought,“ButI’manoldwomantoo.I’mnotasstrongasIthinkmyself.I’mnotasstrongassheis.Herhands,hergrasp,herfingers.Isupposebecauseshe’smadandmadpeople,I’vealwaysheard,arestrong.”
Thegleamingbladewasapproachingnearher.Tuppencescreamed.Downbelowsheheardshoutsandblows.Blowsnowonthedoorsasthoughsomeoneweretryingtoforcethedoorsorwindows.“Butthey’llnevergetthrough,”thoughtTuppence.“They’llnevergetthroughthistrickdoorwayhere.Notunlesstheyknowthemechanism.”
Shestruggledfiercely.ShewasstillmanagingtoholdMrs.Lancasterawayfromher.Buttheotherwasthebiggerwoman.Abigstrongwoman.Herfacewasstillsmilingbutitnolongerhadthebenignantlook.Ithadthelooknowofsomeoneenjoyingherself.
“KillerKate,”saidTuppence.
“Youknowmynickname?Yes,butI’vesublimatedthat.I’vebecomeakilleroftheLord.It’stheLord’swillthatIshouldkillyou.Sothatmakesitallright.Youdoseethat,don’tyou?Yousee,itmakesitallright.”
Tuppencewaspressednowagainstthesideofabigchair.WithonearmMrs.Lancasterheldheragainstthechair,andthepressureincreased—nofurtherrecoilwaspossible.InMrs.Lancaster’srighthandthesharpsteelofthestilettoapproached.
Tuppencethought,“Imustn’tpanic—Imustn’tpanic—”Butfollowingthatcamewithsharpinsistence,“ButwhatcanIdo?”Tostrugglewasunavailing.
Fearcamethen—thesamesharpfearofwhichshehadthefirstindicationinSunnyRidge—
“Isityourpoorchild?”
Thathadbeenthefirstwarning—butshehadmisunderstoodit—shehadnotknownitwasawarning.
Hereyeswatchedtheapproachingsteelbutstrangelyenoughitwasnotthegleamingmetalanditsmenacethatfrightenedherintoastateofparalysis;itwasthefaceaboveit—itwasthesmilingbenignantfaceofMrs.Lancaster—smilinghappily,contentedly—awomanpursuingherappointedtask,withgentlereasonableness.
“Shedoesn’tlookmad,”thoughtTuppence—“That’swhat’ssoawful—Ofcourseshedoesn’tbecauseinherownmindshe’ssane.She’saperfectlynormal,reasonablehumanbeing—that’swhatshethinks—OhTommy,Tommy,whathaveIgotmyselfintothistime?”
Dizzinessandlimpnesssubmergedher.Hermusclesrelaxed—somewheretherewasagreatcrashofbrokenglass.Itsweptheraway,intodarknessandunconsciousness.
II
“That’sbetter—you’recominground—drinkthis,Mrs.Beresford.”
Aglasspressedagainstherlips—sheresistedfiercely—Poisonedmilk—whohadsaidthatonce—somethingabout“poisonedmilk?”Shewouldn’tdrinkpoisonedmilk…No,notmilk—quiteadifferentsmell—
Sherelaxed,herlipsopened—shesipped—
“Brandy,”saidTuppencewithrecognition.
“Quiteright!Goon—drinksomemore—”
Tuppencesippedagain.Sheleanedbackagainstcushions,surveyedhersurroundings.Thetopofaladdershowedthroughthewindow.Infrontofthewindowtherewasamassofbrokenglassonthefloor.
“Iheardtheglassbreak.”
Shepushedawaythebrandyglassandhereyesfollowedupthehandandarmtothefaceofthemanwhohadbeenholdingit.
“ElGreco,”saidTuppence.
“Ibegyourpardon.”
“Itdoesn’tmatter.”
Shelookedroundtheroom.
“Whereisshe—Mrs.Lancaster,Imean?”
“She’s—resting—inthenextroom—”
“Isee.”Butshewasn’tsurethatshedidsee.Shewouldseebetterpresently.Justnowonlyoneideawouldcomeatatime—
“SirPhilipStarke.”Shesaiditslowlyanddoubtfully.“That’sright?”
“Yes—WhydidyousayElGreco?”
“Suffering.”
“Ibegyourpardon.”
“Thepicture—InToledo—OrinthePrado—Ithoughtsoalongtimeago—no,notverylongago—”Shethoughtaboutit—madeadiscovery—“Lastnight.Aparty—Atthevicarage—”
“You’redoingfine,”hesaidencouragingly.
Itseemedverynatural,somehow,tobesittinghere,inthisroomwithbrokenglassonthefloor,talkingtothisman—withthedarkagonizedface—
“Imadeamistake—atSunnyRidge.Iwasallwrongabouther—Iwasafraid,then—a—waveoffear—ButIgotitwrong—Iwasn’tafraidofher—Iwasafraidforher—Ithoughtsomethingwasgoingtohappentoher—Iwantedtoprotecther—tosaveher—I—”Shelookeddoubtfullyathim.“Doyouunderstand?Ordoesitsoundsilly?”
“NobodyunderstandsbetterthanIdo—nobodyinthisworld.”
Tuppencestaredathim—frowning.
“Who—whowasshe?ImeanMrs.Lancaster—Mrs.Yorke—that’snotreal—that’sjusttakenfromarosetree—whowasshe—herself?”
PhilipStarkesaidharshly:
“Whowasshe?Herself?Therealone,thetrueone
Whowasshe—withGod’sSignuponherbrow?”
“DidyoueverreadPeerGynt,Mrs.Beresford?”
Hewenttothewindow.Hestoodthereamoment,lookingout—Thenheturnedabruptly.
“Shewasmywife,Godhelpme.”
“Yourwife—Butshedied—thetabletinthechurch—”
“Shediedabroad—thatwasthestoryIcirculated—AndIputupatablettohermemoryinthechurch.Peopledon’tliketoasktoomanyquestionsofabereavedwidower.Ididn’tgoonlivinghere.”
“Somepeoplesaidshehadleftyou.”
“Thatmadeanacceptablestory,too.”
“Youtookherawaywhenyoufoundout—aboutthechildren—”
“Soyouknowaboutthechildren?”
“Shetoldme—Itseemed—unbelievable.”
“Mostofthetimeshewasquitenormal—noonewouldhaveguessed.Butthepolicewerebeginningtosuspect—Ihadtoact—Ihadtosaveher—toprotecther—Youunderstand—canyouunderstand—intheveryleast?”
“Yes,”saidTuppence,“Icanunderstandquitewell.”
“Shewas—solovelyonce—”Hisvoicebrokealittle.“Youseeher—there,”hepointedtothepaintingonthewall.“Waterlily—Shewasawildgirl—always.HermotherwasthelastoftheWarrenders—anoldfamily—inbred—HelenWarrender—ranawayfromhome.Shetookupwithabadlot—agaolbird—herdaughterwentonthestage—shetrainedasadancer—Waterlilywashermostpopularrole—thenshetookupwithacriminalgang—forexcitement—purelytogetakickoutofit—Shewasalwaysbeingdisappointed—
“Whenshemarriedme,shehadfinishedwithallthat—shewantedtosettledown—tolivequietly—afamilylife—withchildren.Iwasrich—Icouldgiveherallthethingsshewanted.Butwehadnochildren.Itwasasorrowtobothofus.Shebegantohaveobsessionsofguilt—Perhapsshehadalwaysbeenslightlyunbalanced—Idon’tknow—Whatdocausesmatter?—Shewas—”
Hemadeadespairinggesture.
“Ilovedher—Ialwayslovedher—nomatterwhatshewas—whatshedid—Iwantedhersafe—tokeephersafe—notshutup—aprisonerforlife,eatingherheartout.Andwedidkeephersafe—formanymanyyears.”
“We?”
“Nellie—mydearfaithfulNellieBligh.MydearNellieBligh.Shewaswonderful—plannedandarrangeditall.TheHomesfortheElderly—everycomfortandluxury.Andnotemptations—nochildren—keepchildrenoutofherway—Itseemedtowork—thesehomeswereinfarawayplaces—Cumberland—NorthWales—noonewaslikelytorecognizeher—orsowethought.ItwasonMr.Eccles’sadvice—averyshrewdlawyer—hischargeswerehigh—butIreliedonhim.”
“Blackmail?”suggestedTuppence.
“Ineverthoughtofitlikethat.Hewasafriend,andanadviser—”
“Whopaintedtheboatinthepicture—theboatcalledWaterlily?”
“Idid.Itpleasedher.Sherememberedhertriumphonthestage.ItwasoneofBoscowan’spictures.Shelikedhispictures.Then,oneday,shewroteanameinblackpigmentonthebridge—thenameofadeadchild—SoIpaintedaboattohideitandlabelledtheboatWaterlily—”
Thedoorinthewallswungopen—Thefriendlywitchcamethroughit.
ShelookedatTuppenceandfromTuppencetoPhilipStarke.
“Allrightagain?”shesaidinamatter-of-factway.
“Yes,”saidTuppence.Thenicethingaboutthefriendlywitch,shesaw,wasthattherewasn’tgoingtobeanyfuss
“Yourhusband’sdownbelow,waitinginthecar.IsaidI’dbringyoudowntohim—ifthat’sthewayyouwantit?”
“That’sthewayIwantit,”saidTuppence.
“Ithoughtyouwould.”Shelookedtowardsthedoorintothebedroom.“Isshe—inthere?”
“Yes,”saidPhilipStarke.
Mrs.Perrywenttothebedroom.Shecameoutagain—
“Isee—”Shelookedathiminquiringly.
“SheofferedMrs.Beresfordaglassofmilk—Mrs.Beresforddidn’twantit.”
“Andso,Isuppose,shedrankitherself?”
Hehesitated.
“Yes.”
“Dr.Mortimerwillbealonglater,”saidMrs.Perry.
ShecametohelpTuppencetoherfeet,butTuppenceroseunaided.
“I’mnothurt,”shesaid.“Itwasjustshock—I’mquiteallrightnow.”
ShestoodfacingPhilipStarke—neitherofthemseemedtohaveanythingtosay.Mrs.Perrystoodbythedoorinthewall.
Tuppencespokeatlast.
“ThereisnothingIcando,isthere?”shesaid,butitwashardlyaquestion.
“Onlyonething—ItwasNellieBlighwhostruckyoudowninthechurchyardthatday.”
Tuppencenodded.
“I’verealizeditmusthavebeen.”
“Shelostherhead.Shethoughtyouwereonthetrackofher,ofour,secret.She—I’mbitterlyremorsefulfortheterriblestrainI’vesubjectedhertoalltheselongyears.It’sbeenmorethananywomanoughttobeaskedtobear—”
“Shelovedyouverymuch,Isuppose,”saidTuppence.“ButIdon’tthinkwe’llgoonlookingforanyMrs.Johnson,ifthatiswhatyouwanttoaskusnottodo.”
“Thankyou—I’mverygrateful.”
Therewasanothersilence.Mrs.Perrywaitedpatiently.Tuppencelookedroundher.Shewenttothebrokenwindowandlookedatthepeacefulcanaldownbelow
“Idon’tsupposeIshalleverseethishouseagain.I’mlookingatitveryhard,sothatIshallbeabletorememberit.”
“Doyouwanttorememberit?”
“Yes,Ido.Someonesaidtomethatitwasahousethathadbeenputtothewronguse.Iknowwhattheymeantnow.”
Helookedatherquestioningly,butdidnotspeak.
“Whosentyouheretofindme?”askedTuppence.
“EmmaBoscowan.”
“Ithoughtso.”
Shejoinedthefriendlywitchandtheywentthroughthesecretdoorandondown.
Ahouseforlovers,EmmaBoscowanhadsaidtoTuppence.Well,thatwashowshewasleavingit—inthepossessionoftwolovers—onedeadandonewhosufferedandlived—
ShewentoutthroughthedoortowhereTommyandthecarwerewaiting.
Shesaidgoodbyetothefriendlywitch.Shegotintothecar.
“Tuppence,”saidTommy.
“Iknow,”saidTuppence.
“Don’tdoitagain,”saidTommy.“Don’teverdoitagain.”
“Iwon’t.”
“That’swhatyousaynow,butyouwill.”
“No,Ishan’t.I’mtooold.”
Tommypressedthestarter.Theydroveoff.
“PoorNellieBligh,”saidTuppence.
“Whydoyousaythat?”
“SoterriblyinlovewithPhilipStarke.Doingallthosethingsforhimallthoseyears—suchalotofwasteddoglikedevotion.”
“Nonsense!”saidTommy.“Iexpectshe’senjoyedeveryminuteofit.Somewomendo.”
“Heartlessbrute,”saidTuppence.
“Wheredoyouwanttogo—TheLambandFlagatMarketBasing?”
“No,”saidTuppence.“Iwanttogohome.HOME,Thomas.Andstaythere.”
“Amentothat,”saidMr.Beresford.“AndifAlbertwelcomesuswithacharredchicken,I’llkillhim!”
AbouttheAuthor
AgathaChristieisthemostwidelypublishedauthorofalltimeandinanylanguage,outsoldonlybytheBibleandShakespeare.HerbookshavesoldmorethanabillioncopiesinEnglishandanotherbillioninahundredforeignlanguages.Sheistheauthorofeightycrimenovelsandshort-storycollections,nineteenplays,twomemoirs,andsixnovelswrittenunderthenameMaryWestmacott.
ShefirsttriedherhandatdetectivefictionwhileworkinginahospitaldispensaryduringWorldWarI,creatingthenowlegendaryHerculePoirotwithherdebutnovelTheMysteriousAffairatStyles.WithTheMurderintheVicarage,publishedin1930,sheintroducedanotherbelovedsleuth,MissJaneMarple.Additionalseriescharactersincludethehusband-and-wifecrime-fightingteamofTommyandTuppenceBeresford,privateinvestigatorParkerPyne,andScotlandYarddetectivesSuperintendentBattleandInspectorJapp.
ManyofChristie’snovelsandshortstorieswereadaptedintoplays,films,andtelevisionseries.TheMousetrap,hermostfamousplayofall,openedin1952andisthelongest-runningplayinhistory.Amongherbest-knownfilmadaptationsareMurderontheOrientExpress(1974)andDeathontheNile(1978),withAlbertFinneyandPeterUstinovplayingHerculePoirot,respectively.OnthesmallscreenPoirothasbeenmostmemorablyportrayedbyDavidSuchet,andMissMarplebyJoanHicksonandsubsequentlyGeraldineMcEwanandJuliaMcKenzie.
ChristiewasfirstmarriedtoArchibaldChristieandthentoarchaeologistSirMaxMallowan,whomsheaccompaniedonexpeditionstocountriesthatwouldalsoserveasthesettingsformanyofhernovels.In1971sheachievedoneofBritain’shighesthonorswhenshewasmadeaDameoftheBritishEmpire.Shediedin1976attheageofeighty-five.Heronehundredandtwentiethanniversarywascelebratedaroundtheworldin2010.
Visitwww.AuthorTracker.comforexclusiveinformationonyourfavoriteHarperCollinsauthors.
www.AgathaChristie.com
THEAGATHACHRISTIECOLLECTION
TheManintheBrownSuit
TheSecretofChimneys
TheSevenDialsMystery
TheMysteriousMr.Quin
TheSittafordMystery
ParkerPyneInvestigates
WhyDidn’tTheyAskEvans?
MurderIsEasy
TheRegattaMysteryandOtherStories
AndThenThereWereNone
TowardsZero
DeathComesastheEnd
SparklingCyanide
TheWitnessfortheProsecutionandOtherStories
CrookedHouse
ThreeBlindMiceandOtherStories
TheyCametoBaghdad
DestinationUnknown
OrdealbyInnocence
DoubleSinandOtherStories
ThePaleHorse
StaroverBethlehem:PoemsandHolidayStories
EndlessNight
PassengertoFrankfurt
TheGoldenBallandOtherStories
TheMousetrapandOtherPlays
TheHarlequinTeaSetandOtherStories
TheHerculePoirotMysteries
TheMysteriousAffairatStyles
TheMurderontheLinks
PoirotInvestigates
TheMurderofRogerAckroyd
TheBigFour
TheMysteryoftheBlueTrain
PerilatEndHouse
LordEdgwareDies
MurderontheOrientExpress
ThreeActTragedy
DeathintheClouds
TheA.B.C.Murders
MurderinMesopotamia
CardsontheTable
MurderintheMews
DumbWitness
DeathontheNile
AppointmentwithDeath
HerculePoirot’sChristmas
SadCypress
One,Two,BuckleMyShoe
EvilUndertheSun
FiveLittlePigs
TheHollow
TheLaborsofHercules
TakenattheFlood
TheUnderDogandOtherStories
Mrs.McGinty’sDead
AftertheFuneral
HickoryDickoryDock
DeadMan’sFolly
CatAmongthePigeons
TheClocks
ThirdGirl
Hallowe’enParty
ElephantsCanRemember
Curtain:Poirot’sLastCase
TheMissMarpleMysteries
TheMurderattheVicarage
TheBodyintheLibrary
TheMovingFinger
AMurderIsAnnounced
TheyDoItwithMirrors
APocketFullofRye
4:50fromPaddington
TheMirrorCrack’dfromSidetoSide
ACaribbeanMystery
AtBertram’sHotel
Nemesis
SleepingMurder
MissMarple:TheCompleteShortStories
TheTommyandTuppenceMysteries
TheSecretAdversary
PartnersinCrime
NorM?
BythePrickingofMyThumbs
PosternofFate
Memoirs
AnAutobiography
Come,TellMeHowYouLive
Copyright
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AGATHACHRISTIE?TOMMYANDTUPPENCE?BYTHEPRICKINGOFMYTHUMBS?.Copyright?1968AgathaChristieLimited.Allrightsreserved.
BYTHEPRICKINGOFMYTHUMBS?1968.PublishedbypermissionofG.P.Putnam’sSons,amemberofPenguinGroup(USA)Inc.AllrightsreservedunderInternationalandPan-AmericanCopyrightConventions.Bypaymentoftherequiredfees,youhavebeengrantedthenonexclusive,nontransferablerighttoaccessandreadthetextofthisebookon-screen.Nopartofthistextmaybereproduced,transmitted,downloaded,decompiled,reverse-engineered,orstoredinorintroducedintoanyinformationstorageandretrievalsystem,inanyformorbyanymeans,whetherelectronicormechanical,nowknownorhereinafterinvented,withouttheexpresswrittenpermissionofHarperCollinsebooks.
Formoreinformationabouteducationaluse,teachersshouldvisitwww.HarperAcademic.com.
FIRSTWILLIAMMORROWTRADEPAPERBACKPUBLISHED2012
LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationDataisavailableuponrequest.
ISBN978-0-06-207433-1
EpubEdition?JANUARY2012ISBN:978-0-06-200660-8
1213141516DIX/BVG10987654321
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