‘Thank you,’ said Miss Silver. ‘Wool becomes so very easily soiled. If you would just spike it on one of the knitting-needles – thank you very much.’

She had not appeared to be looking at anything except the file. Now she lifted a slightly frowning gaze, inclined her head towards Hilary, and indicated a chair.

‘This is Miss Carew?… Will you please sit down? Captain Cunningham has explained why I wish to see you?’

‘No, he hasn’t,’ said Hilary. ‘He just rang me up, and I came.’ She contrived a reproachful look at Henry out of the corner of her eye, but it did not appear to get anywhere.

Miss Silver continued:

‘Captain Cunningham rang me up at a very early hour. He seemed a good deal perturbed – ’ she paused, coughed slightly, and added – ‘about you, Miss Carew. He desired my advice without delay, and he informed me that he had in his possession the entire file of the Everton Case. I asked him to bring it round to me, and he did so. When he had told me about your experiences yesterday I suggested that he should ask you to join us. In the meanwhile I could run through the file and find out whether it contained any evidence with which I was not familiar. I have not, of course, had time to read all the documents.’ The accounts of the inquest and the trial are taken from the public press, and I am quite au fait with them. The statement made by the chambermaid at the Caledonian Hotel is new to me, and so is the statement of the Glasgow solicitor with regard to Mr. Francis Everton. They are both typed copies, and I imagine that the originals were obtained by the police. Do you know if that is so, Miss Carew?’

‘No, I don’t. I was abroad in July – I didn’t come home until the inquest was over.’

Miss Silver said, ‘I see. Captain Cunningham was abroad too, and he tells me that Mrs. Grey is exceedingly disinclined to answer questions.’

‘She simply won’t,’ said Hilary.

Miss Silver primmed her lips.

‘Decidedly foolish,’ she said. ‘Relatives almost invariably hamper investigation by an unwillingness to be frank. They are afraid of disclosing some point which will tell against the person in whom they are interested. Yet if Mr. Grey is really innocent, the more light that is thrown upon every point the better for his case. If Mrs. Grey is concealing something which she fears may tell against her husband – ’

Henry struck in, frowning:

‘We haven’t any reason to suppose she’s doing anything of the sort.’

But Miss Silver’s small pale eyes were fixed not on him, but on Hilary.

‘Miss Silver, why do you say that?’

‘It is true, is it not? Why else should she refuse to answer questions -to aid in an investigation? She is afraid of what may be brought to light – something damaging – something she has knowledge of – something – Miss Carew, I think you know what it is.’

Henry looked with astonishment at Hilary, and saw the red distressed colour run up to the roots of her little brown curls. Her eyes swam with tears. She said in a startled voice, ‘How did you know?’

Miss Silver looked down at the file again. She gave a deprecating cough.

There is nothing wonderful about seeing what is in front of one. Will you tell me what Mrs. Grey is afraid of?’

‘I don’t see how I can.’

Miss Silver looked at her in a different way. She had the air of a kind aunt – of Aunt Emmeline when she was about to give you five pounds at Christmas. She said in a voice that was nice as well as prim.

‘I am a great admirer of Lord Tennyson’s. The mot juste – how often one comes across it in his writings. “Oh, trust me all in all, or not at all.” I find I often have to quote that to my clients. The most complete frankness is necessary.’

Hilary looked at Henry, and Henry nodded. After all he didn’t see that anything Hilary said could do any harm. They wouldn’t hang Grey now whatever came out, and he was prepared to bank on the discretion of this respectable little spinster.

Hilary put her hand to her cheek and began to tell Miss Silver about going to see Mrs. Ashley.

‘She was the daily help at Solway Lodge, and nobody thought of calling her, because she went away at six o’clock and she told the police she didn’t know anything.’

Henry took her by the arm.

‘What’s all this?

‘I didn’t tell you, Henry – I couldn’t.’

‘Go on,’ said Maud Silver.

Hilary went on between quick breaths.

‘I went to see her – she’s a frightened little thing. She cried, and said she’d promised Marion not to tell.’ Henry began to regret his nod. His hand tightened on Hilary’s arm. ‘I made her tell me. She did leave at six, but she went back. She had dropped a letter, and she thought it might be in the study – and she thought she could get in through the open window – but when she got near she heard voices – quarrelling. And she heard Mr. Everton say “My own nephew!” And then she heard a shot, and she ran away and never stopped running till she got home.’

‘I see,’ said Miss Silver. ‘Yes, I see. And what time was this?’

Hilary caught her breath.

‘That’s the worst part of it -for Geoff, I mean. She heard a church clock strike as she came by Oakley Road. It struck eight, and at first when she said that, I thought it was going to be all right, because the outside of what it would take her to get to Solway Lodge from Oakley Road would be ten minutes. Geoff did it in five, and I don’t think anyone could really take more than seven or eight, so I’m saying ten as an absolute limit. Well, if she heard that shot at ten minutes past eight, it clears Geoff, because the very earliest he could have got there was a quarter past, so I thought it was all right.’ Her voice very plainly indicated that it had turned out all wrong.

Henry said, ‘Why wasn’t it all right?’ and Miss Silver gazed at her expectantly.

‘Oh, it wasn’t, because she said, and stuck to it like a leech, that that blighted clock was a good ten minutes out, and that it must have been “getting on for the half hour” when she reached the house.’

‘She said the clock was slow?’ said Miss Silver.

‘She said everyone in the house knew it was slow.’

‘Clocks,’ said Miss Silver, ‘are extremely unreliable as evidence. You are quite, quite sure that she said the clock was slow?’

‘I asked her, and asked her, and asked her,’ said Hilary in a wretched voice. ‘She said she was always talking about it to Mrs. Mercer. She said it used to give her a turn coming in the morning.’

‘Why?’ Miss Silver shot the word out short and sharp.

‘It made her think she was late when she wasn’t.’ Hilary’s eyes widened suddenly. ‘Oh!’

‘But then it was fast,’ said Henry. He took her by the arm and shook her. ‘I say, Hilary, wake up! Use the head – it’s meant to think with! The clock would have to be fast to make her afraid she was late, not slow.’

Hilary’s eyes got rounder and rounder. She said ‘Golly!’ in a hushed whisper.

Miss Silver said, ‘Exactly.’

‘How could you be such an ass?’ said Henry Cunningham.

‘Golly!’ said Hilary again. ‘She said it just like I told you, and I just gulped it down! And she must have said it to Marion, and Marion swallowed it too, and made her promise not to tell. And if she had told, – Miss Silver, it would have cleared Geoff-oh, it would!’

Miss Silver coughed.

‘Do not build on it too much. The facts must be verified – and fifteen months have elapsed. But if it can be proved that this church clock was ten minutes fast in the July of last year, it would seem that the shot which killed Mr. Everton was fired at somewhere very near to eight o’clock.’

‘Oh, Miss Silver!’

Miss Silver nodded.

‘Then with regard to the words which Mrs. Ashley overheard, they are’ -she gave her little dry cough – ‘well, they are certainly capable of more than one construction. She appears to have considered, and Mrs. Grey appears to have considered, that those words “My own nephew!” indicated that Mr. Everton was at that moment addressing his nephew Geoffrey Grey. You appear to have taken the same view. But it really doesn’t follow, you know. He may have been addressing Mr. Geoffrey Grey, but the words which you have quoted by no means prove that he was doing so. For instance, he may have been replying to some accusation or slander against Mr. Grey, and the words “My own nephew!” might be construed as an indignant denial. Further, Mr. Everton had three nephews. The words may have had no reference at all to Geoffrey Grey.’