Miss Silver went on knitting.

“I have not said that I do not believe you, Mrs. Scott. Pray continue.”

The dark eyes were not laughing now, they were wide and horrified.

“It was snuff-it really was-just the same as in the snuffbox! And it was there amongst his pillows! I picked up all the grains I could find and screwed them up in my handkerchief, and then I shook the pillows out of the window and beat them up and put them back on the bed. Well, it seems silly, but I hadn’t any opportunity of comparing the grains I had got with the stuff in the snuffbox. There was all the business about Arthur Hughes being shot and the necklace stolen, and it really did go out of my head. Only, yesterday I had put on the same suit, and there was my handkerchief with the corner knotted up, and it all came back. So I changed early and got down before anyone else and looked inside the snuffbox. And most of the snuff was gone, but there was enough left for me to compare it with the grains in my handkerchief, and there wasn’t any doubt about it at all, they were the same.”

Miss Silver said, “Yes-” in a meditative voice.

Annabel Scott watched the rhythmic movement of her hands. Knitting-needles, pale blue wool, and a baby’s shawl-they seemed such a long, long way from the thoughts that she had not wanted to think but which would not leave her alone. She said in a whispering voice,

“The snuffbox was nearly empty. Hubert went out of the room when it was open because he was nervous about the snuff. But there were grains of it amongst his pillows, and he had an attack of asthma. If he hadn’t had it, he would have been the one to go and fetch the necklace from the bank, and he would have been the one who was shot. It’s the sort of thing that sticks in your mind once you’ve thought about it. I can’t get it out of mine.”

Miss Silver said in her even voice,

“You have kept the handkerchief in which you knotted up the grains you found amongst Mr. Garratt’s pillows?”

“Yes, I’ve got it.”

“There are, of course, two possibilities, both of which imply a guilty knowledge of the plan to steal the necklace, either on the part of Mr. Garratt himself, or on the part of some other person. If it was he himself who possessed this knowledge, nothing would have been easier than for him to bring on his asthma by inhaling snuff. He would thus avoid being in charge of the necklace at the time of the theft. If, on the other hand, it was some other person who induced the attack, then that person’s motive must have been either to protect Mr. Garratt or to involve Mr. Hughes, since it would not have been difficult to guess that he would be a probable substitute should Mr. Garratt be incapacitated.”

Annabel gazed at her.

“It’s all too horrid! Lucius has known Hubert for simply years. I can’t believe he would do anything like that. And as to anyone wanting to get Arthur Hughes into trouble-” She stopped suddenly. “Miss Silver, you didn’t mean anything worse than that! You didn’t mean that you thought anyone might have planned to have Arthur shot!”

She had a feeling that she was being looked through and through as Miss Silver said,

“Will you tell me why you should have the thought of that?”

Annabel found herself without the ability to keep anything back. She said,

“Lucius told me about Miss Paine and the men she watched in that picture gallery. She told you one of them was looking in her direction, and that she could read what he was saying. I have a cousin who is deaf and can lip-read, so I know it can be done. Lucius said she told you this man said that the plan was to shoot the messenger who went for the necklace. If-if that was what was meant, then-then someone in this house- No, it’s too dreadful!”

Miss Silver said with gravity,

“The person who used the snuff may not have known that the plan to steal the necklace included the murder of the messenger. There could have been merely a knowledge that the necklace was to be stolen, and either a desire to protect Mr. Garratt or a wish to discredit Mr. Hughes. Do you know of anyone who could have had such a motive?”

Annabel said in a rather distracted way,

“I don’t know. It’s all too difficult. Arthur wasn’t much liked. There wasn’t anything you could put your finger on, but he just didn’t fit in. Lucius didn’t mean to keep him on. He was making a nuisance of himself about Moira for one thing.”

“Did Mrs. Herne encourage him?”

Annabel made an odd but quite expressive gesture. Her hand came out palm upwards and empty. Yet there was a suggestion that she had something to offer.

“Oh, I don’t know. She does something to these boys. It doesn’t look like encouragement, but they go in off the deep end. Arthur Hughes had gone in off the deep end. I don’t think Moira had any use for him, but he couldn’t see it, and Lucius was getting annoyed. But all that is a long way off anyone wanting to get him into trouble.”

“Had he an idea that he had been badly treated?”

“By Moira? I don’t know. I daresay he had. You know, you are making me speak about her, and I didn’t mean to. I ought not to, because I don’t like her-I never have and I never shall.”

“And why do you not like her, Mrs. Scott?”

Annabel’s colour rose brightly.

“Because she doesn’t care for anything or anyone except herself-because she’s got a lump of ice instead of a heart-because she makes Lucius unhappy! There-you’ve made me say it!”

Miss Silver said,

“Pray do not distress yourself.”

Annabel looked back at her ruefully.

“I didn’t mean to say it, you know. Right up to the last moment before I came and knocked on your door I had made up my mind that whatever happened I wouldn’t breathe a word about Moira.”

“Half confidences are not very helpful.”

“No, they’re not, are they? I suppose it’s in for a penny in for a pound, and I don’t say it won’t be a relief to say what I really think, so here goes! She has been nothing but a trouble since she came into the family. When she married, I did think she would be off Lucius’ hands. He didn’t like Olly Herne. He was one of these ranting, bragging young men with a superiority complex if I’m to wrap it up, or plain swollen head if I’m leaving out the frills. He was a racing motorist, a perfect dare-devil in a car, and Moira fell for him. All Lucius could do was to tie up the money he had settled on her. Well, he crashed over a precipice.”

“During a race?”

“No, as a matter of fact he was off on his own. He and Moira had had a row, and he had left her planted and dashed off. It was rather frightful for her, because they had run out of money and she had to borrow to get home. The car was burnt out, so anything Olly had with him was lost. Moira turned up perfectly cool and said she didn’t want to talk about any of it. Lucius thinks that in a way it was a relief. Anyhow she never speaks of him, and she hasn’t got a photograph or anything. It might mean she cared more than we think, or it might mean that she just wanted to shut the door on Olly and not be bothered with him any more.”

It was plain to Miss Silver that the latter view was the one to which Mrs. Scott inclined.

Annabel threw out her hands and said,

“There! I’m being thoroughly catty, and I’ve enjoyed it! You know, I wouldn’t mind how many husbands she didn’t care about, or how many young men she played fast and loose with, if she had just one spark of feeling for Lucius.”

Miss Silver coughed mildly.

“Has Mr. Bellingdon any very deep feeling for her?”

Annabel looked startled.

“I don’t suppose he has-in fact I know he hasn’t. But he would have had if she had given him a chance, and she didn’t. Of course the whole thing started wrong-his coming home and finding her there like that. I don’t know how Lily dared. He must have been furious, and Lucius in a fury is something I shouldn’t like to have happen to me!”