“Miss Garside?”

Miss Garside inclined her head.

“If I could just speak to you for a moment. It is about the ring.”

Miss Garside closed the door. Her manner, always very reserved, became more so.

“Are you from Allingham’s?” she said.

The conversation which followed was not a very long one. Some time later the visitor came out of the flat and went down in the lift. It was at this moment that she was seen by Mrs. Underwood.

The woman in black makes this brief passage and disappears. Her remark about the ring and Miss Garside’s response were heard only by themselves. There was therefore nothing to connect her in anybody’s mind with Allingham’s or with the ring. What passed between her and Miss Garside in the closed flat is, and must remain, a matter of conjecture. The most important thing about her brief appearance is that she was the last person to see Miss Garside alive.

CHAPTER 38

Miss Silver had enjoyed her tea. Such a bright, comfortable room. Damp and misty outside, but so cosy in Mrs. Underwood’s sitting-room with the light switched on and a small bright fire. Ivy had made some very good scones, and Wing Commander Underwood had sent his wife some honey from the north. Of course everyone was rather quiet. That was only to be expected. So recent and so shocking a fatality, and though not in any case a personal loss, poor Miss Roland was, after all, Major Armitage’s sister-in-law. It was only natural that he should appear grave and preoccupied, and that his fiancée should look white and shaken. Not a pleasant experience for a young girl-not at all. Mrs. Underwood too-it was quite clear that she had a great deal on her mind. It would do them all good to be taken out of themselves.

In pursuance of this laudable object Miss Silver produced a constant stream of small talk interspersed with so many questions about everything and everybody in all the flats that the others were kept busy answering her. She took a most particular interest in Mr. Drake, of whom she had caught just a glimpse on her arrival.

“Such a fine man-quite romantic-looking really. And he reminds me of someone. Now, I wonder if you can help me-”

Meade achieved a smile and said,

“Is it Mephistopheles?”

Miss Silver beamed.

“Of course! How very stupid of me! Really a most remarkable likeness. I hope it does not extend to his character. What did you say his business was?”

Meade said in a hesitating voice,

“I don’t know-”

“Nobody does,” said Mrs. Underwood. She put a disagreeable emphasis on the words.

Giles raised his eyebrows, and Miss Silver said mildly,

“Dear me-that sounds very intriguing.”

Mrs. Underwood tossed her head. Its auburn waves were in perfect order, but her face sagged and seemed to have another ten years of lines upon it. She said in a hard, accusing voice,

“No one knows anything about him at all, and if Agnes Lemming isn’t careful she’ll find herself in a mess.”

For the next five minutes Miss Silver was regaled with all the things Mrs. Underwood had not said to Agnes Lemming.

“I’ve seen them walking up from the town. I suppose she knows when his train gets in, and happens to be shopping then. What he can possibly see in her, I can’t imagine, and I must say if I were her mother I should want to know a good deal more about him…”

Meade looked distressed and said nothing. Miss Silver presently switched the conversation to another flat.

“Mrs. Meredith-such a dear old lady, Mrs. Smollett tells me, but sadly deaf. Do you know her at all? She seems to have a very devoted companion in Miss Crane, but the maid appears to be a very uncommunicative person. I am wondering if there is any connection with some Meredith of whom I used to hear from a dear friend of mine. Do you know where this old lady lived before she came here?”

Meade was so relieved at the change of subject that she was quite glad to have something to say.

“ Bell says-” she began, and then hesitated.

“ Bell?” said Mrs. Underwood sharply.

“Yes. He told me that when she first came here Mrs. Meredith used to ask every time she went out in her chair whether they were going to the Pantiles, and once she said she wanted to go to the Toad Rock. And she told Bell she used to live on Mount Pleasant-he has to help to get her chair down the steps, you know-but she doesn’t talk so much now, poor old thing.”

“Very sad,” said Miss Silver in a kind, brisk voice. “And now tell me something about Miss Garside. I have not met her yet, but she interests me. Do you know at all what her tastes and connections have been?”

Mrs. Underwood tossed her head in an even more marked manner than before.

“She thinks herself better than anyone else-we all know that-but I don’t know that anyone knows why. She used to keep house for a brother who was a professor, I believe, and they used to travel a great deal-France, Germany, Italy-all that kind of thing. I suppose that’s how she got her stuck-up ideas.”

“The Lemmings know her,” said Meade. “Agnes says she is very proud and reserved. She came here after her brother died, and I’m afraid she isn’t at all well off now. Agnes isn’t very happy about her.”

Miss Silver said, “I see-” and began to ask a great many questions about Mr. and Mrs. Willard and the Lemmings.

CHAPTER 39

When tea was over she proceeded helpfully to the kitchen.

“We are such a party that I am sure you would like a little assistance with the washing-up, Ivy. I was drying for Mrs. Smollett after lunch, and we got along so quickly.”

Ivy looked doubtful. She wasn’t sure that she wanted a visitor in her kitchen. If Miss Meade had thought of giving a hand- but she didn’t hardly look fit, and there was Major Armitage there and all. She received such a pleasant smile that she changed her mind. Company was company when all was said and done, and after what had happened you didn’t want to be alone no more than you could help. She said,

“It’s very kind of you, I’m sure.”

“Such pretty china,” said Miss Silver brightly. “Roses are great favourites of mine. Ah, I see that you have a good hot water supply. Such a comfort.”

Ivy had turned on the tap and was piling the tea things in a papier mâché bowl. Miss Silver continued to talk. The girl looked as if she had cried her eyes out-she had noticed that as she arrived this morning. It had been a good idea to send her out after lunch. She was looking all the better for it. She said aloud,

“You are very quick and clever with your hands, Ivy. I expect that would be your training as an acrobat. Miss Meade was telling me about it. Such a fascinating life. I read a very interesting book about a year ago about circus life called Luke’s Circus-really most charming, and of absorbing interest. Domestic work must be a great change for you, is it not?”

Ivy found herself telling the visitor all about Glad, and the accident, and how the doctors didn’t think she’d ever be much good at walking again.

“But I’m as good as ever as far as that goes. I wouldn’t like to go on the wire again. I’m awful out of practice, and I wouldn’t like to anyhow, not without Glad. I miss her bad enough as it is, and it’d be worse if I went back. We wasn’t reelly circus people, you know-not reelly. We were on the halls most of the time. Glad and Ivy-that was us. I’ve got some old bills with the names on. Seems a long time ago.”

“Was that where you knew Miss Roland?” said Miss Silver gently.

Ivy dropped one of the rose-flowered cups. It fell into the sink and broke. She gave a queer half-smothered cry.

“Don’t be frightened,” said Miss Silver-“and never mind about the cup. It was when you were on the halls that you met Miss Roland, was it not?”