“I will be satisfied with that. My poor Matty! How I wish this had not happened to her. She has gone, hasn’t she? There will be no coming back. So calmly efficient outwardly, and a raging furnace of resentments within. Does it not show how complex human beings are? It has always been a sort of hobby with me…to observe them.”

“They are, indeed, complex, and I will leave you now, if you will excuse me. I have promised Nanny Crabtree that I will be in the nursery this morning.”

He nodded. “We need you here,” he said. “I…Gordon…Tristan. Yes, we do. I would not feel happy about the child if you left us.”

I said: “I shall stay for a while.”

That satisfied him. He nodded again and closed his eyes. He looked very tired and infinitely sad.

Seth had changed. It was strange to see a big strong man looking like a helpless child. Oddly enough, he seemed to turn to me. I knew that he had regarded Matilda with a kind of awe, coupled with a great admiration and trust. I thought sometimes that he had looked at her as though she were some sort of deity.

She had been kind to him. How strange that she, who had contemplated killing one child, could be so considerate to a poor creature like Seth.

And now she had gone, Seth seemed lost and bewildered. Poor, uncertain Seth, whose life had been blighted when he was ten years old, and he had never really developed after that.

I often found him close to me, and suddenly it dawned on me that I was a substitute for Matilda. He would hurry to me if I were carrying something. He would take it from me, and clearly showed what gratification it gave him to help me.

That was how I came to talk to him and to learn what I had always wanted to know.

I would chat about horses and the work he did in the garden. One day I saw him working there and I went down to the seat which was close by and said: “Hello, Seth. How are you this morning?”

His face creased with pleasure, as it always did when I spoke to him.

“I be well, Miss Violetta.” He slurred my name. He had always had difficulty with it.

“The sea is a little rough today,” I went on. “Is that how it was the morning the first Mrs. Tregarland went in to bathe?”

He had lost that look of anxiety he had always had before when I mentioned that occasion.

“He said: “Oh, ’tweren’t morning…’twere night…weren’t it?”

I was startled. This was a new angle on the case.

“Night?” I said.

“Sea be different by night,” he said, scratching his head. “Don’t know what it be, but it be different.”

“Where were you then, Seth?”

He looked puzzled and I saw the shut-in look come into his face.

“You could tell me, Seth,” I said.

He looked at me steadily and I saw the look I had often in the past seen him bestow on Matilda. Now it was given to me. He looked relieved.

“ ’Twere night,” he said. “ ’Er were there with ’un.”

“Mrs. Lewyth was there…with the first Mrs. Tregarland?”

He nodded and, turning toward the house, pointed to the glass door which opened onto the terrace from which four steps led down to the garden.

“In the drawing room they were.”

“They were doing something?” I prompted.

“Just the two of them…talking. It was about the baby that was to be.”

“Why did you think that?”

“I dunno. Just did. They was always talking about the baby.”

“And what happened?”

“She come out. ’Er was rolling…unsteady like. I watched ’un.” He started to giggle. “ ’Er be drunk, I thought. Mrs. be drunk.”

“What happened to her then?”

“Mrs. Lewyth…she took her arm. They was coming to the garden.”

“Did they see you?”

“Not then …I watched ’un. Mrs. Lewyth was bringing her down. ’Tweren’t easy on the slope. Her was drunk like. They got to the beach. Then ’er fell over.”

“Who?”

“T’other.”

“The first Mrs. Tregarland?”

“That’s ’er. I watched. Proper drunk, ’er were.”

“And then what happened?”

“Mrs. Lewyth took off her clothes and put on her bathing things. Then she pulled her down to the sea. ’Er couldn’t manage. Awful heavy, she were. So I went and helped her.”

“Seth! And what did Mrs. Lewyth say?”

“ ’Er didn’t seem to like it much. She was a bit cross with me…at first. She was nice after. She told me the ghost of the long-dead lady wanted to have a talk with the first Mrs. Tregarland and she had to get her out to sea…’cos she’d been told to. We had to get her down. She said, ‘You can see her beckoning.’ ”

“Did you?”

“Mrs. Lewyth said I did, so must be. I helped drag her in…and I pushed her out to sea. ‘She just wants to have a word with her,’ Mrs. Lewyth said. ‘Just friendly like.’ She took her clothes away and later on came down with her bathrobe, so’s it would be there for her when she come back. She didn’t. Reckon the ghost wanted her to stay.”

“Seth,” I said. “You knew this all the time and you didn’t tell anyone.”

“Her said not to, didn’t ’er? ’Er said she reckoned they got on so well—one didn’t want to lose t’other. Her would stop haunting because ’er was so pleased to have the first Mrs. Tregarland with her.”

I sat there, staring out to sea. And I thought, so now I know. But what of Dorabella?

I said: “Seth, the second Mrs. Tregarland. Do you know what happened to her?”

“I don’t know nothing about her. I never seed that ’un.”

“She did go down to the sea,” I said.

“May ’ave. I didn’t see ’er.”

“Are you sure, Seth?”

“Certain sure. It were only t’other.”

“Thank you, Seth,” I said. “You have been a great help.”

A slow smile of satisfaction spread over his face. I could see that he now looked on me as his friend and protector.

So now I knew that Matilda was indeed a murderess and had been one when I first met her. Hers was indeed a devious mind. It was hard to believe that she had preserved that quiet, almost benevolent exterior with such guilt on her conscience.

I could piece together what had happened. She had obviously drugged Annette, got her to the beach, and thrown her into the sea.

I was, indeed, relieved that she was now put away where she could do no more harm.

It was some little time since I had seen Jowan. He would, of course, have heard of the drama at Tregarland’s, for the matter would be discussed throughout the neighborhood. He would be anxious, I knew.

He came to the house this time, and we sat in the garden while I told him the story.

He was deeply shocked.

“We have to be grateful to you, Jowan,” I said. “Your discovery about the relationship between James Tregarland and Gordon made it all fall into shape.”

“It was you and Nanny Crabtree who saved the child.”

“Yes, but you put us on the alert, and I remembered then that Matilda and Gordon had spoken of the children’s deaths.”

I described those moments when Matilda had come into the nursery with the pillow in her hand.

“Poor Gordon,” I said. “He is a very sad man. She is safely away now. She can do no more harm. Jowan, what should we do about this? I now know that Annette’s death was murder. We are not sure of Dermot’s, but I suppose it is likely. I wonder about Dorabella.”

“There was no reason to kill Dorabella. Matilda Lewyth was consistent. She did not murder, without reason. Annette was going to have a child who would inherit the estate after his father. So she got rid of both Annette and the child. She might have waited until it was born, but perhaps she hadn’t heard of the cot deaths then. Besides, Annette could have more children. She rid herself of that possibility at one stroke.”

“Might she not have felt that it was a good idea to be rid of Dorabella? She had succeeded with the first wife, why not with the second?”

“No. She would not murder for such a flimsy reason. There was already a child. And it wasn’t easy. She had been seen by Seth. He must have been an anxiety to her. I suppose she might have turned on him.”