Miss Silver smiled politely.

“Perhaps you are right, Inspector. I do not think so, but I should be sorry to appear ungrateful for the courtesy and help which you have given me. I am not very happy about this case. If you will bear with me for a moment, I should like to discharge my conscience by telling you what I suspect. I have no evidence to lay before you. I can only ask you to consider whether Miss Garside may not have been removed because someone whose life and liberty are at stake had come to realise that she must have been in Miss Roland’s flat at a time so near the murder as to make her survival dangerous.” Without any break or change of expression she went on speaking. “Do you recall the case of Mrs. Simpson?”

Lamb, who had turned aside, swung round with a slow rolling movement. He gave a kind of grunt and said,

“Well, I should think so!”

“She was a pupil of the Vulture’s, I believe. They specialised in blackmail of a political nature, did they not?”

“I think they did. It was a Foreign Office business-the Yard didn’t really come into it. There was the Denny case-she set herself up as a medium-called herself-”

“Asphodel,” said Miss Silver. “Then there was a case of impersonation. In the end she was arrested for the murder of a Miss Spedding, but she was never brought to trial. I believe she escaped.”

Lamb nodded.

“Someone engineered a collision. The driver of the prison van was killed. Maud Millicent disappeared.”

Miss Silver frowned in a manner reminiscent of the schoolroom.

“I think we will allude to her as Mrs. Simpson. The name of Maud has been given such beautiful associations by the late Lord Tennyson.”

Lamb found himself apologising.

“Well now, Miss Silver, I’m sure that’s quite true-Mrs. Simpson it is. How do you happen to know so much about her? There wasn’t much publicity about the cases she was mixed up in. Hush-hush stuff most of it.”

Miss Silver gave a small discreet laugh.

“I have had a good many contacts with Ledlington. Mrs. Simpson’s father was the Vicar of St. Leonard’s church there. A most estimable man, I believe. I had the pleasure of meeting Colonel Garrett of the Foreign Office Intelligence at my friends the Charles Morays’ just after the Spedding case. When he found that I was conversant with Mrs. Simpson’s early history he told me a good deal more about her. She was never traced, I believe.”

“Never heard of again. Must be a matter of three years ago.”

“Did you ever suspect that she might be the principal in the Mayfair case?”

He shook his head.

“You’re making it too difficult. Blackmailers are as common as dirt-no need to drag Mrs. Simpson into it. She’s probably dead.”

Miss Silver said in a reserved voice,

“You would agree that she was a very dangerous woman.”

“Well there’s no doubt about that.”

“I said that I had no evidence to lay before you, but I was wrong-I have one item. It is this. Miss Garside had a visitor this afternoon.”

He gave her his attention.

“How do you know that?”

“Mrs. Underwood saw her come out. It was just after half past four, and she was looking out to see whether I was coming down to tea.”

“Who was it?” said Lamb.

“A stranger. Mrs. Underwood had never seen her before, and she only saw her then for a moment-fair hair, hanging down on her shoulders, smart black dress and hat, spectacles with light tortoiseshell rims, light gloves, very thin stockings and smart black shoes.”

Lamb allowed himself to laugh.

“She managed to see a good deal in her moment!”

“No more, I think, than any woman would.”

“Ah well-there you have me. And what’s the suggestion about this visitor? We’ll trace her of course. She must have been the last person to see Miss Garside alive. But as for her having any other importance-well, you’re not suggesting that she was the notorious Mrs. Simpson, are you?”

Miss Silver coughed.

“It is not my province to make suggestions. You would, however, agree that if Mrs. Simpson were implicated in this case she would not hesitate to remove any person whose evidence might prove dangerous.”

Lamb had a good-humoured smile.

“Now, Miss Silver, you go along and have a rest. You’re letting your nerves get the better of you, and we can’t have that. Good people are scarce, you know.”

Miss Silver took no notice. She came up close to him and put a hand on his arm.

“Will you leave a man here all night, Inspector? I am feeling very apprehensive about the safety of one of the inmates of Mrs. Underwood’s flat. I shall make an excuse to stay there myself tonight, but I shall be greatly obliged if you will place a man on duty in the hall of the flat.”

Lamb looked grave.

“I could place one on the landing outside. I couldn’t put one into the flat without bringing a charge or getting Mrs. Underwood’s consent.”

She thought for a moment, and then said,

“The landing will do, Inspector.”

“And you go and have a nice rest,” said Inspector Lamb.

CHAPTER 44

Instead of taking the Inspector’s kindly meant if somewhat patronising advice, Miss Silver put on her coat and hat and walked briskly to the corner, where she caught a bus into the town.

There was still daylight when she alighted in the High Street. A few enquiries and about five minutes’ walk brought her to her destination, a small old-fashioned jeweller’s shop with the name of Jackson above it in letters of faded gold. The shutters were up. Miss Silver made her way to what appeared to be a private door and rang the bell. After a few moments’ delay Mrs. Jackson opened it. Miss Silver at once said,

“May I come in? We met this morning in your sister’s flat at Vandeleur House. My name is Silver-Miss Maud Silver. I am very anxious indeed to have a talk with you.”

As she spoke she was over the threshold.

There was no welcome in Mrs. Jackson’s manner, but she closed the door and led the way along a dark passage to the back of the house. Here the light was on and red chenille curtains drawn in a pleasant old-fashioned parlour with a table in the middle, chairs round it, a horsehair couch with a carved back, an upright piano, and a mantelpiece crowded with photographs. Under the light Ella Jackson was seen to be pale and tired, her colourless hair disordered, her air very obviously that of a woman who has been caught at a disadvantage. There was quite a pause before she said,

“Do sit down.”

Miss Silver accepted the proffered chair. She drew it out from the table and seated herself. When Mrs. Jackson had followed her example, she said,

“I owe you every apology for intruding upon you in this manner. It is very good of you to receive me. I ask you to believe that I should not have troubled you if the matter were less urgent.” She paused, and then went on in her gravest voice. “There has been another death at Vandeleur House.”

Ella Jackson started.

“Oh, how dreadful!”

“Yes-it is dreadful. It is Miss Garside who has been found dead in her flat. She sold your sister’s ring this morning, and this evening she was found dead in her flat. The police regard her death as suicide. They believe that she killed your sister. I do not share that belief. I am of the opinion that she was murdered, and for the same reason that your sister was murdered- she knew too much, or the murderer suspected that this might be the case and was taking no risks. I do not dispute that she effected an exchange of her own ring, which was paste, for your sister’s which contained a valuable diamond, but I believe that her presence at or near the time of the murder was accidental, and that she was not a party to it.”

The reluctance had gone from Mrs. Jackson’s manner. Her eyes were fixed upon Miss Silver’s face. She put up a hand and pushed back a straggling lock of hair, but she did not speak, only moved her head in an almost imperceptible motion of assent.