She might have been reciting a lesson, but with that underlying sharpness. Frank had an impression of every door being locked and every window barred. Against what? He would have very much liked to know. He let her go, and she went out, walking a little as if there were armour under the thin black woollen dress.

When she was gone he pushed back his chair and came over to the fire.

‘Well, what do you make of that?’

Miss Silver’s needles clicked.

‘What do you?’

An eyebrow rose.

‘Animus against Haile. Possibly against others. Possibly against the late Herbert. Considerable insistence on the perfect alibi for the perfect secretary. Newbury is going into the question of the alibi. He’s a very thorough fellow. As to the animus, there seems to be quite a lot of it knocking about. Haile has it in for Lila Dryden. Lady Dryden and the perfect secretary have it in for Haile. A curious and rather unnatural partnership.’

Miss Silver gave her slight cough.

‘What makes you say that, Frank?’

‘I really don’t know-it just struck me that way. Lady Dryden rather busy with her own importance. Perfect secretary probably not caring about being treated like a blackbeetle. Just something on those lines. Did I hit a bull’s-eye by accident?’

‘I think you may have done. I thought I would let you see Miss Whitaker before I told you of a conversation I had with Lady Dryden.’

‘Another?’

‘We were together for most of the afternoon.’

‘And she had something to say about Miss Whitaker?’

‘A good deal.’

‘As what?’

‘It was very well done. Miss Whitaker had been such an invaluable secretary. Sir Herbert had depended on her in every way. Really too much, if she might say so. These associations tend to become a little too intimate. There had, of course, been some talk. There always is. Miss Whitaker is quite a good-looking woman. Naturally, she herself did not believe the stories. If there had been any foundation for them, Sir Herbert would hardly have been refusing to allow her to resign her position.’

Frank whistled softly.

‘Oh, she wished to go, did she?’

‘So Lady Dryden said.’

‘Well, if she really wanted to go, he couldn’t make her stop.’

Miss Silver said gravely,

‘I put that point. Lady Dryden intimated that there might be ways in which pressure could be brought to bear, adding, “I believe she had some expectation of being remembered in his will”.’

‘The question then arises as to which will. It looks as if the perfect secretary might have been down for a legacy in the old will, and was being told that it wouldn’t get into the new one unless she stayed put. By the way, I wonder why he wanted her to stay.’

‘He seems to have relied upon her a good deal. She had been with him for ten years, and he was used to her. If there had been an affair between them it was probably over, and he was too cold and selfish a man to consider her feelings in the matter.’

‘Do you think she cared for him?’

‘I do not know. She is certainly suffering from shock. It is impossible to say whether it has gone deeper than might be expected in the circumstances. To arrive back after a few hours absence and find that her employer had been murdered would naturally be a severe shock to any young woman. She would hardly have stayed ten years in Sir Herbert’s employment if it had not suited her to do so. So abrupt an end to ten years’ service would be, to say the least of it, discomposing.’

Her use of this word caused Frank Abbott to slide a hand across his lips. Miss Silver would certainly not expect him to smile at this juncture, and he was not at all confident of being able to disguise a keen if momentary amusement. Beneath a cool and rather highbrow exterior he concealed a sense of humour which had sometimes landed him in trouble. He expressed agreement, and rose to his feet.

‘Well, I must be off, or Lady Dryden will be offering me a meal in the housekeeper’s room. It might, of course, be informative, but the Marshams wouldn’t like it. Association with the police is very lowering to the social standards. I will go and see how bad the food at the Boar can be. Bill Waring is also staying there. Perhaps we shall mingle our tears over cabbage-water and flabby fish. Go on having conversations with all and sundry. Another instalment of this great murder mystery tomorrow. Expect me when you see me!’

An affectionately reproving glance followed him to the door.

When he had gone Miss Silver began to put away her knitting. Their talk had lasted for quite a time, and she had made a good start with the second pink vest. As she lifted the knitting-bag, something rolled from her lap to the floor. Bending to pick it up, she discovered it to be the magnifying-glass which Frank Abbott had taken from the writing-table to show her. During their subsequent conversation it had lain unregarded in her lap, screened by the flowery chintz of her niece Ethel Burkett’s birthday gift. The old knitting-bag had been really quite worn out. This one was delightfully gay, with bunches of flowers in the most tasteful colours and a lining of deep coral pink. Miss Silver admired it almost as much as she rejoiced in the affection which had prompted the gift. Even at this moment half her mind was upon dear Ethel and her children-so warm, so loving. She had a mere modicum of attention left for the magnifying-glass, and that of a surface nature. It must be very uncomfortable to use such an instrument for any length of time. The thought just came and passed. She got up and went over to the writing-table with the intention of replacing it there.

And then, as she turned it in her hand, by one of those unforeseen chances something caught the light and her attention. The overhead light was bright above the table. She had excellent sight. What she saw was no more than a scratch just inside the metal rim. She turned the glass, and perceived that it was not one scratch but a series of scratches, and that these scratches formed initials. They were by no means new, and only by holding the magnifying-glass in one position could they be seen at all. If there had not been so strong a light overhead they might not have been noticed.

Miss Silver made out the initials to be Z.R. After gazing at them for some moments she dropped the magnifying-glass into her knitting-bag instead of replacing it upon the table.

CHAPTER XXV

When the two Inspectors had left Lila Dryden’s room Ray Fortescue waited long enough to let them get well away and then ran down into the hall. She wanted to telephone to Bill, and she wanted to find out how she could do it. There was a telephone in the study, but that wasn’t any good, because the policemen were there interviewing people. A house organized and improved by Herbert Whitall would probably be stiff with extensions, but she didn’t know where she should look for them. There would be one in Sir Herbert’s bedroom, but the idea of using it made her feel as if someone had dropped an icicle down her back.

She rang a bell, and Frederick came to answer it. She had seen him vaguely when she arrived, but she hadn’t really noticed what a tall, pale slip of a boy he was. He really was very pale indeed. Not so nice being in a house where there has been a murder and the police keep coming in and out as if the place belonged to them. She produced a friendly smile, and said that she wanted to telephone.

Frederick looked sideways like a startled colt. His lip twitched as he opined that the police would be in the study. Ray liked boys. She thought this one wouldn’t be more than seventeen. Her heart warmed to him. A year or two earlier he could have had a good cry, but you don’t cry if you can help it when you are six foot one. She thought he was having pretty hard work to help it.