The thoughts that had been clamouring in Sally’s mind fell suddenly still. There was a quietness and a clarity. She was back in the dark passage at the North Lodge and heard Moira Herne speak to a man in the room behind her. There was a man in that room. What man? She hadn’t seen him, and she hadn’t heard his voice. He had been with Moira at the lodge, and he had talked with her in the dark front room where the blinds were down. Moira had come out of the room, and she had turned on the threshold and said, “You’re sure it will come tomorrow-absolutely sure? Because I won’t go on until it does -I can tell you that.” When Moira stopped speaking there had been the murmur of a man’s voice from the room behind her-just a deep blurred murmur of a voice that might be any man’s. After that there was the bit about David, and Moira saying, “Come along, or I’ll be late,” and then her footsteps passing the threshold and going away down the flagged path to the drive. And the man’s footsteps following-

She came back to the schoolroom, and to Miss Silver knitting a baby’s bootee. The pale blue wool was a lovely colour. She felt suddenly able to tell Miss Silver what she had heard.

Chapter 32

MISS SILVER had a short interview with Inspector Abbott. It took place in the small room which they had occupied on a prevous occasion. Her message having been conveyed to him, he found her very comfortably seated on a low armless chair with her knitting in her lap. At the moment of his entrance she was counting stitches and did not immediately look up. When she did so, it was to give him a welcoming smile and to say,

“I believe there is now no need to attempt any concealment as to the reason for my presence at Merefields, since Miss Foster informs me that Mr. Wilfrid Gaunt is perfectly well aware of it.”

His colourless eyebrows rose.

“A tolerably efficient broadcaster, I should imagine.”

“He has a malicious tongue. I have no doubt that the situation here has given him an opportunity of exercising it at my expense.”

“He has certainly exercised it. At least I suppose it was not Mr. Bellingdon who informed Mrs. Herne that you were what she politely stigmatized as a police spy.”

Miss Silver pressed her lips together for a moment before saying,

“She is an exceedingly ill-bred young woman. I fear she may be something worse than that. I have been having a conversation with Miss Foster which I do not feel justified in keeping to myself. I would like to preface my account of it by telling you how reluctant Miss Foster was to tell me what she did, and how certain I am that she was both truthful and careful in what she told me. It was not until I imparted my conviction that Mr. Bellingdon’s life was actually in danger that her resistance broke down.”

“And just why did you suppose that she had anything to tell?”

Miss Silver pulled at her ball of wool, releasing two or three of the pale blue strands.

“You would not have needed to ask me that if you had been present when Mr. Bellingdon opened the parcel containing the necklace.”

He said, “Oh, yes, I was going to ask you about that. He opened it at breakfast, didn’t he? Was everybody there?”

“Yes, Frank.”

“And what did Sally Foster do to make you think that she knew something?”

“She leaned back in her chair and turned so pale that I thought she was going to faint. Mr. Moray thought so too. He got her some coffee and took her hand under the table.”

Frank Abbott laughed.

“That, my dear ma’am, has been done even when there was no risk of the girl fainting! But go on-you have me intrigued. Why did Sally swoon?”

Miss Silver told him, repeating the story as it had been told to her. When she had finished, he was interested but critical.

“Well, you know, on the face of it it’s a fairly compromising story, but not in a direction which has anything to do with the police. When girl meets boy in a dark room at an empty lodge it isn’t usually to discuss stolen necklaces or attempts at murder. As to what Sally heard Moira say-what was it again?”

Miss Silver repeated the words with prim accuracy. “ ‘You’re sure it will come tomorrow-absolutely sure? Because I won’t go on until it does-I can tell you that.’ ”

He nodded.

“Well, there you are. What does it amount to-something, or nothing? There’s a lot of I-dotting and T-crossing to be done before you can make it mean anything at all. When the necklace turned up at breakfast next morning Sally Foster did a quick job of dotting and crossing and was very nearly shocked into a swoon. But suppose I put it to Moira Herne that she was overheard at the lodge and what about it, she’s got quite a choice of perfectly good explanations open to her. ‘You’re sure it will come tomorrow? Because I won’t go on until it does.’ Well, that could mean an engagement ring or any other fribble the lady fancied. If she’s short of money and not too particular how she picks some up it could be a cheque. Anyhow you may be sure that she’ll have something up her sleeve.”

Miss Silver knitted placidly.

“My dear Frank, I think you are overlooking a quite important point. If Mrs. Herne has a reasonable explanation to offer, it must reasonably include the identity of her companion at the lodge. If she refuses this, you would inevitably suspect that she could not rely upon him to corroborate the explanation which she offers.”

He laughed.

“If she liked to keep the boy friend anonymous she would have a perfect right to, you know. If she is carrying on an affair-well, it isn’t our business, and she won’t hesitate to say so. Come-you didn’t suppose that a bit of hearsay like this could be used as evidence!”

She continued to knit, and had now arrived at the last rows of the bootee. It passed through her mind that nature had provided pretty, idle young women with a corrective to lightness of conduct. The bearing and the rearing of a succession of infants had perhaps been overdone in the past, but the modern discovery of how to escape from it altogether did not always serve the ends of morality. It was merely a passing thought, checked by the timely recollection that Moira Herne was a widow. Or was she? St. Paul however, himself a confirmed bachelor, had recommended that the younger widows should marry and have children. A truly great and wise man. But if he had known Moira Herne, would he have considered her a suitable influence in the home? She feared not. Her answer to Frank Abbott’s question was not sensibly delayed. She had thought disapprovingly of certain modern tendencies, considered St. Paul ’s attitude towards widows, and Moira’s suitability for motherhood, while he was still speaking. When he stopped, her mind moved quickly to the point which he had raised.

“I do not believe that I had got as far as the question of evidence. I was thinking of how we could best arrive at the truth. In this connection the identity of Mrs. Herne’s companion at the lodge would seem to be important. If he was with her in that front room, it should be possible to obtain his fingerprints.”

“Oh, yes, that could be done.”

“Then Sally Foster thinks that they drove away in a car which may have been in the lane or just inside the drive. Someone may possibly have noticed it.”

His hand rose and fell on the arm of his chair.

“Dusk, and a thunderstorm going on? Not very likely, you know, but we’ll see what can be done. Well, I must be getting on, or Crisp will suspect me of dalliance.”

She said,

“One moment, Frank. I feel sure that Mr. Garratt knows something.”

“What! Did he also swoon at the breakfast table?”

Her look reproved him.

“I will not go as far as that, but he certainly received a shock. I am convinced that he has some knowledge which is causing him distress.”