Alleyn said: “I’ve never been able to make up my mind about these matters. The cure of warts by apparently irrational means is too well established to be questioned. And even when you admit the vast number of failures, there is a pretty substantial case to be made out for certain types of faith healing. Or so I understand. I can’t help wondering why you are so fierce about it all, Miss Emily. If you are repelled by the inevitable vulgarities, of course—”
“As, of course, I am. Still more, by the exploitation of the spring as a business concern. But most of all by personal experience of a case that failed: a very dear friend who suffered from a malignancy and who was absolutely — but, I assure you, absolutely—persuaded it would be cured by such means. The utter cruelty of her disillusionment, her incredulity, her agonized disappointment and her death — these made a bitter impression upon me. I would sooner die myself,” Miss Emily said with the utmost vigour, “than profit in the smallest degree from such another tragedy.”
There was a brief silence. “Yes,” Alleyn said. “That does, indeed, explain your attitude.”
“But not my reason for soliciting your help. I must tell you that I have written to Major Barrimore, who is the incumbent of the inn, and informed him of my decision. I have announced my intention of visiting the Island to see that this decision is carried out. And, since she will no doubt wish to provide for herself, I have also written to the proprietress of the shop, a Miss Elspeth Cost. I have given her three months’ notice, unless she choses to maintain the place as a normal establishment and refrain from exploiting the spring or mounting a preposterous anniversary festival which, I am informed, she has put in hand and which has been widely advertised in the press.”
“Major Barrimore and Miss Cost must have been startled by your letters.”
“So much so, perhaps, that they have lost the power of communication. I wrote a week ago. There has been no formal acknowledgment.”
She said this with such a meaning air that he felt he was expected to take it up. “Has there been an informal one?” he ventured,
“Judge for yourself,” said Miss Emily, crisply.
She went to her desk and returned with several sheets of paper which she handed to him.
Alleyn glanced at the first, paused, and then laid them all in a row on an occasional table. There were five…Hell! he thought. This means a go with Miss Emily…They were in the familiar form of newsprint pasted on ruled paper which had been wrenched from an exercise book. The first presented an account of several cures effected by the springs and was headed, with unintentional ambiguity, Pixie Falls Again. It was, he recognized, from the London Sun. Underneath the cutting was an irregular assembled sentence of separated words, all in newsprint:
Do not Attempt threat to close you are warned
The second read simply danger keep out; the third, Desecration will be prevented all costs; the fourth, Residents are prepared interference will prove fatal; and the last, in one strip, death of elderly woman with a piecemeal addendum: this could be YOU.
“Well,” Alleyn said, “that’s a pretty collection, I must say. When did they come?”
“One by one, over the last five days. The first must have been posted immediately after the arrival of my letter.”
“Have you kept the envelopes?”
“Yes. The postmark is Portcarrow.”
“May I see them?”
She produced them: five cheap envelopes. The address had been built up from newsprint.
“Will you let me keep these? And the letters?”
“Certainly.”
“Any idea who sent them?” he asked.
“None.”
“Who has your address?”
“The landlord. Major Barrimore.”
“It’s an easy one to assemble from any paper: 37 Forecast Street. Wait a moment, though. This one wasn’t built up piecemeal. It’s all in one. I don’t recognize the type.”
“Possibly a local paper. At the time of my inheritance.”
“Yes. Almost certainly.”
He asked her for a larger envelope and put the collection into it.
“When do you plan to go to Portcarrow?”
“On Monday,” said Miss Emily composedly. “Without fail.”
Alleyn thought for a moment, and then sat down and took her hands in his. “Now, my dear Miss Emily,” he said. “Please do listen to what I’m going to say — in English, if you don’t mind.”
“Naturally, I shall listen carefully, since I have invited your professional opinion. As to speaking in English — very well, if you prefer it. Enfin, en ce moment on ne donne pas une leçon de français.”
“No. One gives, if you’ll forgive me, a lesson in sensible behaviour. Now, I don’t suggest for a minute that these messages mean, literally, what they seem to threaten. Possibly they are simply intended to put you off and if they fail to do that, you may hear no more about it. On the other hand they do suggest that you have an enemy at Portcarrow. If you go there you will invite unpleasant reactions.”
“I am perfectly well aware of that. Obviously. And,” said Miss Emily on a rising note, “if this person imagines that I am to be frightened off—”
“Now, wait a bit. There’s no real need for you to go, is there? The whole thing can be done, and done efficiently, by your solicitors. It would be a — a dignified and reasonable way of settling.”
“Until I have seen for myself what goes on, on the Island, I cannot give explicit instructions.”
“But you can. You can get a report.”
“That,” said Miss Emily, “would not be satisfactory.”
He could have shaken her.
“Have you,” he asked, “shown these things to your solicitors?”
“I have not.”
“I’m sure they would give you the same advice.”
“I should not take it.”
“Suppose this person means to do exactly what the messages threaten — offer violence? It might well be, you know.”
“That is precisely why I have sought your advice. I am aware that I should take steps to protect myself. What are they? I am not,” Miss Emily said, “proficient in the use of small-arms, and I understand that, in any case, one requires a permit. No doubt, in your position, you could obtain one and might possibly be so very kind as to give me a little instruction.”
“I shall not fiddle a small-arms permit for you nor shall I teach you to be quick on the draw. The suggestion is ridiculous.”
“There are, perhaps, other precautions,” she conceded, “such as walking down the centre of the road, remaining indoors after dark and making no assignations at unfrequented rendezvous.”
Alleyn contemplated his old instructress. Was there or was there not a remote twinkle in that dead-pan eye?
“I think,” he said, “you are making a nonsense of me.”
“Who’s being ridiculous, now?” asked Miss Emily tartly.
He stood up. “All right,” he said. “As a police officer it’s my duty to tell you that I think it extremely unwise for you to go to Portcarrow. As a grateful, elderly ex-pupil, I assure you that I shall be extremely fussed about you if you’re obstinate enough to persist in your plan…Dear Miss Emily,” said Alleyn, with a change of tone, “do, for the love of Mike, pipe down and stay where you are.”
“You would have been successful,” she said, “if you had continued in the Corps Diplomatique. I have never comprehended why you elected to change.”