As her voice rose loud and shrill, Miss Silver reflected how quickly fear and anger can strip off the veneer of breeding. The languid, graceful woman with her tones modelled to the current fashion was gone. Instead, there was a London girl who knew what it was to fight for her own hand and was perfectly capable of doing so. Her colour had come back with a rush.

Mettie Eccles stood as if she had been turned to stone. The anger had gone out of her. Her limbs were heavy and her eyes dazzled. All she wanted now was to sit in the dark and weep. But she came of a fighting stock-she would not go back on what she had said. She repeated it with a dry tongue.

“You killed him-”

It was at this moment, and just as Lady Mallett was about to close the door, that Maggie Repton had come down the hall. There had been a whisper of talk, and it had reached her. If Roger was ill, she must go to him. It didn’t matter if she felt ill herself, she must go to Roger. She saw Nora Mallett, but she was not to be stayed.

“Maggie-”

“If Roger is ill, I must go to him.”

She walked past her, and saw what was to be seen-Roger lying sprawled across his desk, and the three people who were standing there and were not doing anything to help him-

Miss Silver who was so kind-but she was a stranger.

Sdlla who was his wife, his unfaithful wife.

And Mettie who loved him.

Why were none of them doing anything to help Roger? She heard Mettie Eccles say, “You killed him-” and she saw Scilla Repton step forward and strike her across the face.

CHAPTER 24

Maggie Repton lay on her bed with the eiderdown drawn up to her chin. Like everything else in the room it was old and rather shabby. Miss Repton remembered her mother buying it at the Army and Navy Stores in Victoria Street. The cover was only cotton, but the down was of the very best quality, and it had cost £2.10.0., which in those days had seemed quite a large price for an eiderdown. It was still very warm, and light, and comforting. She became aware of a hot water-bottle at her feet. That was comforting too. And there was something else-kindness and the sense of a reassuring presence. It was getting dark outside. A small shaded lamp stood on the washstand. It was beyond her range of vision, so that it did not dazzle her, but the light was pleasant in the room. She turned her head on the pillow and identified the presence which she found consoling. Miss Silver sat beside her knitting.

For a little while the warmth, the soft light, the sense of comfort and security, were between Maggie Repton and the things that had happened at the Work Party. Then they came back-Roger lying dead across his own writing-table-the smashed glass and empty decanter-poor Mettie calling his name, accusing Scilla, and Scilla striking her. She put out a long, thin hand and said with a gasp, “Oh, no, it isn’t true!”

Miss Silver laid down her knitting and took the hand.

“Yes, my dear, it is true. You must be brave.”

Two slow, weak tears rolled down Miss Maggie’s cheeks. Her thoughts moved slowly too. Roger was dead. She must be a very bad, unloving sister, because it didn’t mean very much when she said it. She didn’t seem to be able to feel anything. She said that aloud.

“I don’t seem to be able to feel anything.”

“That is because it has been a shock.” Miss Silver’s hand was warm and steady. Maggie Repton clung to it.

“I was speaking to him just before the people arrived. He said it was the end. You don’t think he meant-you don’t think-”

Miss Silver looked at her gravely.

“You will have to tell the police just what was said.”

“I ought not to have left him,” said Miss Maggie. “But I never thought-indeed I never thought-”

“What did you think he meant, my dear?”

“He was talking about Scilla. They had had a terrible quarrel. He said she had been having an affair with Gilbert Earle. Such a dreadful, wicked thing-because Gilbert was going to marry Valentine, you know, and it has all been broken off. Roger talked about a divorce, a thing I never thought we should have in our family, but he said he couldn’t go on. It is all so dreadful. It doesn’t seem as if it could possibly have happened.”

It had become a relief to talk, to pour it all out. After a little Miss Silver drew her hand away and began to knit again. When she rose from her chair, Miss Maggie said with a sob,

“You’re not going?”

“Not if you wish me to stay.”

“Oh, if you could-” The weak voice faltered and broke. “Valentine is a dear child, but she is young, and-and Scilla-” she jerked herself up in the bed-“she is an unfaithful wife-Roger was sending her away. There ought to be someone here with Valentine, and Mettie-it wouldn’t do for Mettie to come. Scilla hit her, didn’t she? What a dreadful thing! Poor Mettie couldn’t come here after that! Scilla hit her, and then I don’t seem to remember what happened.”

“You fainted, my dear.”

“Oh dear-I oughtn’t to have done that-it must have given so much trouble.” Then, on a faint and trembling note, “Did they-did anyone-send for the police? You said-I thought you said-”

“Yes, my dear, they are here. I am sure you will find them all that is kind and considerate.”

The door was opened a little way. Valentine Grey first looked round it, and then came in. Seeing that Miss Maggie was awake, she bent down to kiss her. Miss Silver, withdrawing to the window, was aware of a murmur of words.

After a little Valentine came to her. Her starry look was gone, and she was white and distressed, but quite sensible and controlled. She said very low,

“She is better?”

“She will do very well now.”

“The Chief Constable is here. He said to ask you whether she is fit to see him. He said he wouldn’t press it if you thought not.”

Miss Silver turned back to the bed.

“Let us ask her. It may be better for her to get it off her mind.”

Miss Maggie had drawn herself up against the pillows. She discovered to her surprise that she was in her nightgown, with the pretty blue bed-jacket which Valentine had given her for her birthday.

“Did you say Mr. March was here? Does he want to see me? I don’t know-I don’t feel that I can get up and come down-”

Valentine bent over her.

“No, darling, of course not. He would come up here.”

She murmured, “How good of him. I am sure he is very kind to come like this. A man is such a help. And if you think he wouldn’t mind-Only, my dear, am I quite tidy?”

The customary pins had been removed from the wispy hair which they so often failed to control. It lay now neat and flat on either side of the narrow brow. With a lace scarf thrown over it, nothing could have been more decorous. Miss Silver was most reassuring on this point.

“And you will stay?” said Miss Maggie, beginning to flutter. “I do know Mr. March-he is always so nice. But you won’t leave me, will you? Renie Wayne was telling me you know him quite well. She told me you went over to tea there on Friday. Mrs. March is so very goodlooking, is she not- and they have two lovely children.” Her eyes filled with tears. “You know, when things go wrong, as they have with us, it is a help to think about the people who are really happy.”

Randal March came into the room and took the chair which had been set for him. Nothing could have been kinder than voice and manner as he told her how sorry he was to disturb her, and how much he regretted the reason.

“But if you do not mind answering a few questions. Time may be of importance, and Miss Silver will see that I don’t tire you. We are old friends, you know.”

Miss Maggie showed a definite interest.

“Oh, yes, Renie Wayne told me. Miss Silver has been so kind-so very kind.”

He said warmly, “She is the kindest person I know.” And then, “Now, Miss Repton, will you tell me when was the last time you saw your brother-I mean the last time before you came into the study and found him there with Miss Eccles and Miss Silver and Mrs. Repton.”