Rachel was growing more and more frightened. She could not bear that scandal should touch her family. Gaston Marchmont would not care. He would make trouble for anyone if he thought there was any advantage in it for himself.
Crispin came to the office one afternoon when he knew James Perrin would not be there.
“This goes from bad to worse,” he said.
“We really must get rid of this fellow.”
“Have you any idea how?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“He’s philandering around. So perhaps it won’t be difficult to find something against him.”
I trembled for Rachel. I wanted to make Crispin see how important it was to spare her from becoming involved, but I could not without her permission to tell, and I knew she would never give that.
He sat on the edge of the desk, swinging his leg, while he stared ahead, frowning. His attitude was one of despairing frustration. I understood his mood perfectly, because I shared it.
“You said you were having him watched,” I said.
“Yes. But that little flutter with Sheila is hardly any help.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” called Crispin.
One of the labourers from the home farm entered.
“I was passing the cottage when Miss Lucy called to me,” he stammered.
“She said to come and tell you, sir, right away, will you go there? Something’s happened.” Crispin said: “I’ll come right away.” He ran out and leaped on to his horse.
“I’ll follow you,” I said, ‘in case I can be of any help. ” When I arrived I ran into the cottage. Flora was with Lucy and Crispin in the kitchen.
Flora looked frantic and Lucy said again and again: “It’s all right. Flora. It’s all right.”
Crispin was also trying to soothe her, but Flora could not be soothed.
She was crying: “He took the baby. He took him. He was going to hurt him. He said he would if I didn’t… if I didn’t…”
“Don’t cry,” said Crispin.
“It’s all over now.” She shook her head.
“No, no. He said, ” Tell . tell . and you shall have the baby back. ”
“And you told,” said Lucy in a flat voice.
“It’s not a secret any more. Never be told … but it was the baby he was going to hurt the baby.”
I knew instinctively of whom she was speaking. It was Gaston, of course. Hadn’t I seen him here several times?
He had been interested in Flora. Intrigued . determined to discover that secret which was never to be told. And he had found a way of learning what it was. Oh, poor Flora!
She had shown him the picture of the magpies just as she had shown me, and he had determined to force the secret from her.
Why was he so interested in Flora’s rambling? I wondered. Why, when he was only concerned with that which could bring advantage to himself ?
Lucy took Flora to her room. Crispin stayed behind to help, and I left them, since I could be of no use.
All through the day I thought about what had happened and that night I had a frightening dream. I was in Barrow Wood, lying helpless on the ground and Mr. Dorian was coming towards me. I called out for help.
There was a murmur in the trees. It wasn’t Mr. Dorian who had come to me. It was the seven magpies. They settled on a tree and watched malevolently; and I was struck with terror, as I had been by Mr. Dorian.
I awoke in a panic. It was only a dream, a muddled, silly dream. How could I have been so frightened by a few birds?
The day passed. I wanted to see how Flora was, but I guessed I might not be welcome. I hoped Crispin might come into the office, but he did not. I was glad James did not notice my preoccupation.
The next morning, when we were at breakfast, the postman called. If he had time to stop for a cup of tea when he came. Lily gave it to him in the kitchen. On this occasion, she brought him in to us. Her eyes were round with that horror and excitement which only bad news can bring.
Tom’s just told me,” she said, ‘that Gaston Marchmont’s been found shot in the shrubbery at St. Aubyn’s.”
I felt suddenly faint.
“Yes,” went on Tom.
“He was found this morning in the shrubbery. You know, near the back of the house. One of the gardeners found him there. Must have been there all night.”
This is going to be a bit of a how-de-do,” said Lily. I heard myself stammer: ” How? Who? ”
” That,” said Tom, ‘is something they’ll have to find out.”
So, it had happened. There were several people who had wanted him out of the way. I was very much afraid, for I feared someone I knew might be guilty of murder.
My first thoughts had gone to Daniel. I could not believe that that gentle man could be capable of murder. It was unbearable. It would mean the end of Rachel’s happiness.
Harry Gentry? He had threatened Gaston Marchmont with a gun. He had actually fired it.
Tamarisk? She had come to hate him. He had deceived her; he had humiliated her. She was unpredictable, reckless and above all things she hated to be humiliated.
Crispin hated him. He had said more than once that he would like to be rid of him. He was a menace to everyone. He had even disturbed poor Flora. He created unpleasantness wherever he went.
Not Crispin, I kept saying to myself. That would be unbearable beyond everything.
For the first time, I faced my true feelings for him. He had attracted me from the moment I saw him; and when I: he had made that unfortunate remark it had hurt more because it came from him. Barrow Wood? Well, that had affected us both deeply. For myself, I could never forget his wrath when he had thrown Mr. Dorian from him. Nor could I forget his tenderness when he turned to me and picked me up. How I had enjoyed those lunches at the Little Vixen. I had tried to disguise from myself how much I looked forward to his coming to the office.
But there was a barrier there, something which I could not understand.
Sometimes I saw a warmth in his attitude towards me. I could imagine that he cared about me; then there would be that aloofness. Perhaps I was half in love with him, but there were times when I felt I did not know him entirely. That aloofness was not only for me, though. It was for everybody. He had a fanatical devotion to the estate. I supposed that was understandable. It was a great responsibility. It was as though there was something on his mind . some secret.
Secrets! I was looking for secrets everywhere. It was due to those visits to the Lanes’ cottage and that haunting picture of the magpies.
I had even dreamed of them.
Aunt Sophie talked of little else but the death of Gaston Marchmont; but then everyone in Harper’s Green was naturally talking about it.
Who killed Gaston Marchmont? That was the question on everyone’s lips.
There was expectancy in the air. Everyone believed that they would know the answer soon.
Lily was sure it was Harry Gentry.
“He had it in for him,” she said.
“Ever since he caught him with young Sheila. She was ready enough, I’ll warrant. If you ask me, it was six to one and half a dozen to the other. Well, he got his comeuppance and it’ll be a lesson to her.”
“I hope poor old Harry hasn’t got himself involved with that,” said Aunt Sophie.
“It’s murder, whatever way you look at it. He’s hot-tempered, I know, but I doubt he’d lie in wait, coldbloodedly like that. He’d have too much sense. No, I reckon it’s someone from that man’s past. I reckon he’s got one.”
Aunt Sophie was soothing. She had an idea that I was worried about Crispin. She may have understood my feelings better than I did myself.
She knew very well that Crispin had hated Gaston Marchmont and was hoping to get him out of St. Aubyn’s. I liked to think that someone from his past had murdered Gaston Marchmont.