‘Major Warrender is the Chief Constable. I have not sent for him, or for Mr. Tampling, but I will see them.’

She looked very small and black as they came round the lacquer screen into the big white room. She was setting a stitch in her embroidery, and she did not look up until they were half way across the floor. She did not rise to meet them. There was a cold stare from the shallow black eyes, a raising of the narrow arched brows, and a slight, very slight inclination of the head. After which she addressed herself to Major Warrender.

‘May I ask the reason for this visit? My sister is very recently dead. Is there to be no consideration for my grief?’ The tone was even harsher than the words. She turned to Mr. Tampling. ‘I not quite know why you are here, but since you are, you can perhaps tell me whether I am obliged to put up with these intrusions.’

He took the word from Major Warrender, who was only too glad to let him have it.

‘Miss Benevent, I must advise you that it would be very unwise for you to refuse to co-operate with the police. The Chief Constable informs me that Miss Cara’s death cannot be attributed to an accident. I was her legal adviser, and I am an executor under your grandfather’s will. The estate has devolved upon Miss Candida Sayle. I am informed that she has disappeared. In the circumstances, I feel sure you must see that every possible assistance should be given to the police. There is no desire to intrude upon your privacy, but you are not in a position to withhold all possible facilities for a very complete search of the house.’

She appeared to stiffen. He guessed at the forced control of a formidable temper. When she spoke, it was without any expression at all.

‘The house has already been searched.’

He had not met Candida Sayle, but he knew now that he had seen her. On a day a week ago in Stephen Eversley’s car. They were talking together and laughing, and he had thought to himself that young Eversley was a lucky man. The picture came back to him now – a young man quite obviously in love and a girl with bright hair and sparkling eyes, the air of youth and happiness which surrounded them. He turned from it to the dead weight of Miss Olivia’s resistance.

‘There have been developments since the search was conducted. Major Warrender will tell you that he is not satisfied.’ He turned to the Chief Constable. Miss Olivia also turned to fix him with that cold resentful stare. He said,

‘Miss Benevent, Miss Sayle has disappeared. There is a suggestion that she may have strayed into some passage in the older part of the house and have found herself unable to get out. If you know of any such place – ’

‘I do not. Miss Sayle is not here.’

‘Then where is she?’

She lifted a hand and let it fall again. It held the needle with the scarlet thread.

‘How should I know? I believe her to be responsible for my sister’s death. When she found that the police would not accept it as an accident she became frightened and she has run away. You would be better employed in trying to trace her. You are wasting your time here.’

With the last word, her attention appeared to be withdrawn. She lifted the embroidery-frame and took a fine, smooth stitch. Mr. Tampling came up to her and spoke in a low voice. She might not have heard him. He said,

‘This is very unwise. I have to tell you that there is a search-warrant. Major Warrender does not wish to use it. As Miss Sayle’s nearest relative you must be deeply interested in her being found. I would urge you in the strongest terms – ’

She looked up then, scanned him briefly, and said,

‘I do not know what more you want. I have told you my opinion. Major Warrender will do as he pleases. Miss Sayle’s whereabouts do not interest me.’ She went back to her embroidery again.

Joseph was waiting in the hall, the quiet decorous manservant, resentful of an affront to the house he served, but concealing it deftly. To have the police back again when it was to be hoped they had seen the last of them, and with the police Mr. Eversley who had been forbidden the house, and that Miss Silver who had come as it were out of nowhere! He had expressed himself with a good deal of freedom on the subject of Miss Maud Silver. One had only to see her for five minutes to tell what sort she was. He had a good deal to say about it to his wife Anna.

‘If there is one grain of dust in a room, she will see it! If anyone whispers a word in the middle of the night, she will hear it! I had only to set my eyes on her and I knew!’

He was asked to produce his wife, and did so. She had been crying again. Upstairs in the room that had been Candida Sayle’s she was questioned, and went on crying. She didn’t know about a passage that opened here. She didn’t know about any passage at all. If there were such a thing, it would be secret. She would not know about it – she would not want to know. Such places were horrible – they had been made for some bad purpose. Nothing would make her enter one. In a place like that, who could know what there might be? Mice, or even rats! Or some pit into which you might fall and never be heard of again! She called God to witness that nothing would make her set foot in such a place.

Rock said, ‘She knows something.’ To which Miss Silver replied,

‘I do not think she knows, but I think she is afraid.’

‘What is she afraid of?’

She said gravely,

‘Of Miss Olivia – of what has happened to Miss Cara – of what may be happening to Miss Sayle.’

‘You don’t think-’

She dropped her voice to its lowest tone.

‘Inspector, I too am very much afraid.’

Stephen Eversley had not spoken at all. He went straight from the door to the recess between the chimney-breast and the side wall of the house. Shelves filled with books from the floor almost to the ceiling, a carved border to simulate a bookcase. He began to take the books out of the shelves. Presently the other two men joined him.

It is astonishing how much room books can take up. Even the smallest book-case when emptied appears to have given up double the number of books which it could have been supposed to contain. The piles upon the floor grew high. Sometimes they overbalanced and fell. The books had to be carried farther back into the room. There was no dust. The empty shelves were clean. The first thing Stephen discovered was that they were not fastened to the wall. There were wooden side-pieces and a wooden back. There was, in fact, what amounted to the shell of a book-case fastened into the recess, but by what means it did not appear.

There could be a door here, and if there was, there must be some means of opening it. He did not believe that Candida had been dreaming when she saw someone come from the recess and pass through the room with a torch held low. His mind became concentrated on the task of finding the opening.

The other two men stood back and watched him. He had the skill and the incentive which were beyond anything they could supply. Anna’s breath still came unevenly, but she no longer sobbed aloud, and her tears had ceased to flow. When Miss Silver touched her on the arm she rose and followed her to the room next door. Bidden to sit down, she said in a distressed voice,

‘Miss Olivia will not like it. I must go back to her.’

She was overborne by a manner of calm authority.

‘Not just yet, Anna. I want to talk to you – about Miss Candida. You have served the Benevents for a long time, have you not?’

‘For forty years.’ There was pride in her tone.

‘And you loved Miss Cara?’

‘God knows I loved her!’

‘Miss Candida is also of the family, and I think Miss Cara loved her.’

‘Yes, yes, she loved her – my poor Miss Cara!’

‘Then will you think what she would have wished you to do? You do not believe that Miss Candida has run away, do you? You do not believe that she had anything to do with Miss Cara’s death. You know very well that she had not anything to do with Miss Cara’s death. You know very well that she had no reason to run away. If there is anything else that you know, you must tell it before it is too late. Do you want for all the rest of your life to have to think, “I could have saved her, but I would not speak”?’