“No one would commit a murder for ,000,” said Stella.
“Wouldn't they just? Don't you believe it, my girl! People commit murders for much less.”
“At that rate, I might have murdered her because she made the house unbearable.”
“I don't think so. Of course, you might have murdered uncle because he threatened to ruin Fielding, but that isn't likely either, especially now it's all off between you. It's Mother the police suspect. She was dressing when they turned up, and I interviewed them first. The Superintendent asked me a whole lot of questions—damned awkward ones! Those blasted servants must have been talking. If you think it over, you can see for yourself how suspicious things must look. You remember the row Mother had with Uncle Gregory about me going to Brazil? Well, naturally, you do: it's the only real quarrel she ever had with him, and the whole household knows of it. But as I see it, it wouldn't matter so much about that if she hadn't so suddenly stopped having a row, and gone all honey-sweet to uncle.”
“Oh, that's just Mummy!” Stella said quickly. “Partly remembering she was a Christian, and partly hoping to coax uncle. Anyone who knows Mummy would recognise that act.”
“The point is the police don't know her. Why, good Lord, even I was surprised at her giving in so soon! And apparently she told the police she never took uncle seriously over the Brazilian business, and that's an obvious lie. I don't mind betting the servants are ready to swear she was more serious than she's ever been before. And you know what she is! She always believes things happened in exactly the way she wants to think they did, and consequently she comes out with the most idiotic fibs, which a babe in arms could see through.”
“Yes, but surely the police can't think that she'd murder Aunt Harriet simply for the sake of getting this house to herself?”
Guy brought his open palm down on the table. “Don't be such a thick-headed little fool! Don't you realise that uncle left a trust of ,000 a year for the upkeep of this place? Well, as things were, not only did Aunt Harriet run the show, but £2,000 was just about enough. With Aunt Harriet dead it's a good deal more than enough! Now do you see?”
“No, I don't,” said Stella stoutly. “The money wasn't going to be given to Aunt to spend as she liked.”
“Thanks, I know exactly how it was left. The trustees have to pay the rates and taxes, and that kind of thing, but the balance is paid into the Bank quarterly, and as long as it isn't overstepped, who's to say how it shall be spent?”
“Yes, I see that,” admitted Stella. “At the same time, it's a bit thick to think a thing like that about Mummy, whatever her faults may be.”
“It isn't what I think. It's what the police are going to think,” said Guy.
“Well, I should imagine they'd think twice before arresting her,” replied Stella. “If she'd wanted to murder Aunt Harriet she could surely have waited till uncle's death blew over. I mean, to do it now is absolutely asking for trouble!”
“No, I don't agree with you,” said Guy instantly. “If she did it, she probably thought it would be safer while the police were in a complete fog over uncle's death. Lots of people to suspect. If she'd waited she'd probably have been the only suspect. Something like that might have gone on in her mind.”
Stella gave a shiver. “It's too beastly. Shut up about it, for God's sake! What about that man Randall spoke of—I can't remember his name?”
“What man? Oh, that rubbish! I don't know: it sounded to me like Randall trying to be funny.”
“No, it wasn't. He meant it.”
“Well, if he did I can't see what it can have to do with Aunt Harriet's death.”
“No,” said Stella heavily. “Randall said that too.” She glanced towards the library-door. “How long has Mother been shut up with the police?”
“About twenty minutes.” Guy began to walk up and down again. “I can't make Mother out!” he said. “Generally she doesn't give away much. She didn't when uncle died. But this time she seems—badly rattled.”
“It's enough to rattle anybody.”
“Well, I wish to God she'd stop telling everybody how much she's going to miss Aunt, and how heartbroken she is!” said Guy explosively. “It rings so dam' false!”
Stella considered this. “Do you know, I'm not so sure of that? It's quite possible she does miss her.”
Guy stared at her. “They fought like cats!”
“Yes, I know, but—but they were awfully used to each other, and they often joined forces against uncle, or Aunt Gertrude, and if ever one of them was ill the other always rallied round at once.”
“Better if they hadn't!” Guy said significantly. “Oh, hell, why did Mother give Aunt a medicine of her own instead of sending for the doctor? And what possessed her to forbid anyone to go into Aunt's room? The servants all say that she impressed it on them that they weren't to disturb Aunt, and it came out today that she even forbade Mary to sweep the landing that morning.”
“Anyone would have done the same,” insisted Stella. “Aunt said she was sleepy, so naturally Mummy wouldn't let Mary fidget about outside her room.”
Guy started to reply, but broke off as the library-door was opened, and looked quickly round. Mrs Matthews stood holding the door-handle, and said in a faint voice: “Stella, I want you.”
Both her children at once went towards her. Stella slipped a sustaining arm round her waist, and said: “It's all right, Mummy; I'm here. What is it?”
Mrs Matthews led her into the library. “Darling child, I want you to think back carefully, and tell the Superintendent. Do you remember when poor Aunt Harriet was taken ill how you and I discussed whether we should send for Dr Fielding or not?”
“Yes, of course,” responded Stella, whose only recollection was of her mother stating that a doctor was quite unnecessary. She looked across the room to where Hannasyde stood, and met his searching gaze unflinchingly. “I didn't think it was in the least called-for.”
Hannasyde did not reply to her, but instead addressed her mother. “Mrs Matthews, this is quite useless. The fact remains that you did not send for a doctor, though it must surely have been obvious to a woman of your experience that your sister-in-law was very unwell indeed.”
Stella felt her mother's fingers tighten unconsciously on her own arm. “But it was not obvious!” Mrs Matthews said, in a low, unsteady voice. “I knew she felt sick, and I saw that she was a bad colour, but I put that down to acute indigestion. She never had what I call a really healthy colour, never!”
“Mrs Matthews, your sister-in-law must have felt other symptoms than these. Did she not complain to you of cramp, or a creeping in her arms, or even of extreme cold in her feet and hands?”
“I can't remember her mentioning anything beyond sickness and giddiness. She may have said she felt chilly, but I should expect that. I gave her a hot-water bottle.”
“And yet,” said Hannasyde, “when Miss Matthews passed the butler in the hall, on her way up to her room, he was struck by her appearance, and thought that she seemed to be out of breath, as though she had been running.”
“So he says!” Guy interpolated scornfully. “Servants will make up any tale to create a sensation!”
“If he made it up, Mr Matthews, it is an odd coincidence that the shortness of breath which he described should be one of the symptoms of nicotine poisoning. Did you not notice it, Mrs Matthews?”
“If I did I should only have thought it due to faintness,” replied Mrs Matthews.
“Your sister-in-law did not complain to you of feeling very ill?”
Mrs Matthews gave a little tinkling laugh. “Poor Harriet was never one to minimise her own ailments,” she said. “I daresay that she may have said that she felt very bad, but I was so accustomed to her habit of exaggerating the least disorder, that I am afraid I didn't set a great deal of store by what she said. It seemed obvious to me that her stomach was thoroughly upset, and I did exactly what I should have done for one of my own children.”