Miss Silver used her strongest expression of disapproval. She said,
‘Dear me!’
‘Well,’ said Mr. Puncheon, ‘I don’t mind saying that I was angry, and my poor wife took a turn for the worse. Then about six months later my sister wrote and said it was the talk of the town that Alan had helped himself to things that didn’t belong to him and run off, and not a word as to where he had gone. I went down to Retley, and I went to see the Miss Benevents. They’ve got an old house called Underhill about three miles out. Yes, they said, Alan had run off. He had taken money and a diamond brooch. They had trusted him as if he were one of the family, and he had deceived them. They wouldn’t prosecute him, because they were too upset. They were going off abroad to try and get over it, and they hoped never to see or hear of him again. Well, I felt rather the same way myself. I went home and told my wife, and I think it killed her – not just at once, you know, but that’s what it amounted to.’
Miss Silver looked at him kindly.
‘It is a very sad story, Mr. Puncheon, but not I fear an uncommon one. The loving mother who spoils her child is preparing an unhappy future for both of them.’
Mr. Puncheon said, ‘Yes.’ And then, ‘But that is not all. If it had been, there would be no Problem to trouble you with. It has arisen quite lately, since I have come to Retley.’
‘Something has happened?’
Mr. Puncheon adjusted his glasses.
‘I suppose you might put it that way. My sister is a good Chapel member. A little while ago it came to her knowledge that a Mrs. Harbord who attends the same Chapel was lying ill and in a bad way and asking to see her. So Ellen went. There was a daughter-in-law looking after her, and what you would call sufficient care, but the woman had something on her mind. When she was alone with my sister she began to cry and to say that she had got it on her conscience to have let a young man’s character be taken away. Ellen said what did she mean, and she said wasn’t it true that she was in a way connected with Alan Thompson? Ellen wasn’t best pleased, and she said, “My brother was married to his mother, if that is what you call being connected.” Then Mrs. Harbord said was it true that I was coming to live with her and taking over the business, and she began to cry and said she didn’t know he had relations in Retley. Ellen has a quick tongue, and I suppose she came out with something about not having any reason to be proud of the connection, and Mrs. Harbord catches her by the wrist and says, “You think he stole those things and ran away, but he didn’t!”’
‘How did Mrs. Harbord come to know anything about it?’ said Miss Silver.
Mr. Puncheon gazed at her mildly.
‘Didn’t I tell you that? Of course I should have done. How very stupid of me. You see, Mrs. Harbord obliged the Miss Benevents – went up every day on her bicycle and did housework and cleaning for them until she got ill – so of course she knew Alan quite well. And when she said about his stealing and running away I’m afraid my sister took her up pretty sharply, and then she couldn’t get any more out of her. Mrs. Harbord just lay there and cried and said he never did it. And the daughter-in-law came in and said she couldn’t have her upset, and would Ellen please go, and she went. Well, she didn’t tell me about it until getting on for a month ago, and I don’t seem to get it off my mind. Ellen says it means no more than that he’d made the same kind of fool of Mrs. Harbord as he had of his mother and of any other woman that was fool enough to let him, and it was no good my thinking she was one of them, because she wasn’t. I told you she had a sharp tongue.’
Miss Silver said quietly,
‘In what way was it on your mind, Mr. Puncheon?’
‘In the way of thinking that we may have done Alan an injustice – taking what those old ladies said without any question. Afraid – that’s what we were, and we swallowed it all down and sheered off in case of anything worse coming to light. And that isn’t justice – now is it? A man may be a thief and he may be a liar, but it ought to be proved against him before you believe it and go cutting him off. Well, we didn’t ask to have it proved to us – we believed it right away. Even his mother believed it, and it killed her. Perhaps if I had gone into it more, she wouldn’t have believed it and she wouldn’t have died. And it began to come to me that I ought to try and do something to make amends. If Alan didn’t steal and run away, it wasn’t right for people to go on thinking that he did. I began to feel I’d got a duty to get back his good name for him. You see, he was all the world to his mother, and even if she wouldn’t know about it I came to feel that it was something I could do for her.’ Mr. Puncheon let his glasses fall and looked at Miss Silver with sad, defenceless eyes. ‘You see,’ he said,
‘I was very fond of my wife.’
Miss Silver returned the look with kindness.
‘When did all this happen, Mr. Puncheon?’
He seemed a little surprised, as if it was incredible that there should be anyone who did not know what had made so great a difference to himself.
‘Do you mean about Alan? It was three years ago in February.’
‘And when did Mrs. Harbord speak to your sister?’
He put on his glasses again.
‘It would have been about three months ago, because it was before I took over the business, and I made the move to Retley over the Christmas holidays, so it would have been sometime late in December.’
‘And after your sister had told you what Mrs. Harbord had to say, did you try to see her?’
‘Oh, yes, I did, but the daughter-in-law wouldn’t let me in. She said my sister had made quite enough of an upset without having any more of the family coming around. So what could I do?’
‘Then you do not really know whether Mrs. Harbord had any grounds for what she said?’
He shook his head.
‘Only what I have told you. Ellen said she just kept saying over and over that he never went away from Underhill.’
Miss Silver stopped knitting for a moment.
‘You did not tell me that.’
‘Oh, didn’t I? That is what she kept on saying.’
‘Mr. Puncheon, if that was true, have you thought what it would mean?’
He looked startled.
‘How could it be true? Why should the Miss Benevents say he was not there if he was?’
She said gravely,
‘I think Mrs. Harbord ought to be asked to answer that question.’
Chapter Seven
Candida’s second lesson went extremely well. Stephen waiting in the Primrose Café, saw her come in with a glowing colour and starry eyes. She made a brightness in the shaded place. He had a rush of feeling which surprised him. It was as if a light had sprung up to meet her, and when she came to him and they looked at each other the brightness was round them both. He said, ‘Did you have any difficulty in getting away?’ and she said, ‘Nothing to speak of,’ and then they both laughed.
When they were seated he went on, with the remains of the laugh in his voice.
‘Your aunts are a bit formidable, you know – at least Miss Olivia is. I had an idea they wouldn’t think much of my asking you out to lunch.’
Candida’s already bright colour rose. She said,
‘Oh well – ’ And then, as much to change the subject as anything, ‘Stephen, such a funny thing – do you know, Aunt Olivia isn’t the elder. Anyone would think so, wouldn’t they?’
‘You don’t mean to say it’s Miss Cara!’
She nodded.
‘Yes, I do. And I’ll tell you how I found out. Derek and I were turning over a lot of old music yesterday evening. It was in the drawer of the music-stand – old songs, you know. And right in the middle of them there was a photograph of three little girls in white party frocks and their hair tied back with bows. I could see that two of them were the great-aunts because of the dark hair and the dark eyes, and their features haven’t changed a lot. And I guessed that the third one must be my grandmother Candida, so of course I was very much interested, and I turned the photograph over to see if there was anything written on the back.’