‘The police will have to decide whether there is a case that they can take into court.’
Miss Louisa tossed her head.
‘He probably killed poor Alan Thompson too!’
‘I do not think so.’
Louisa Arnold leaned forward.
‘Do you know, I saw one of those chests in a museum. I am so vexed that I can’t remember where it was, but it was during that trip that Papa and I took the year after Mamma died. We only had a fortnight, and we saw so many places that they all ran together in my head and I can’t remember where I saw that chest, but it was just like what everyone is saying about the one at Underhill. There was a spring in the lid, and if you touched anything in the chest there was a horrible sort of hasp that came down and hit you. And they say that this is what Alan Thompson must have done. Unless you really do think Joseph killed him.’
Miss Silver made no reply, and after a moment Louisa continued her speculations.
‘Do you know, the thing I find hardest to understand is the part about poor Cara. I just can’t believe she went down into a dark cellar in the middle of the night – unless she was walking in her sleep. Do you think she was?’
‘I think she was looking for Alan Thompson, but whether she was awake or asleep, I cannot say. She may have been suspecting his death for a long time. She may have been very much afraid, and she may suddenly have felt that she could not bear the suspense any longer.’
There was a pause. Louisa’s voice went down into a whisper. She said,
‘Do you think – Olivia killed her?’
‘Oh, no. There was no reason for her to do so. Miss Cara’s death was the greatest misfortune that could have happened to her.’
‘Well, it wasn’t the chest. Cara wouldn’t have touched it with poor Alan lying there dead.’
‘No.’
The whisper became insistent
‘Then it was Joseph.’
Miss Silver said, ‘That is not for us to say.’
Miss Arnold flushed. The effect, with her white hair and blue eyes, was becoming, but it conveyed the fact that her patience was now exhausted.
‘And I suppose you will not talk about Olivia either?’
‘I believe it would be better if we did not discuss her at the moment, Louisa.’
Louisa Arnold really was obliged to leave the room.
Others were, unfortunately, compelled to discuss Miss Olivia Benevent. When all was said and done, there was only the slightest evidence on which to build a case against her. Miss Silver and Mr. Tampling had stood behind a screen and heard Joseph and Miss Olivia accuse one another. What they said could be true, or it could be false, for each denied what the other had said. When, just at the end, Miss Olivia said, ‘If Candida lives, there will be nothing for either of us. She will have Underhill, and she will marry and have children to come after her. She should have been dead, but I think she is alive, and there is nothing more that I can do.’ When she said that, there was an admission which could perhaps have been used. But it rested upon Miss Silver’s evidence alone, since Mr. Tampling, appealed to for confirmation, declared himself unable to supply it. They were at some distance from the speakers, and he felt himself quite unable to swear to anything that had been said. Not that he wished to cast any doubt upon Miss Silver’s recollection. She appeared to be a most accurate and observant person, but he must really not be asked to swear to anything himself.
And then, whilst all this was going on, Olivia Benevent died. There was no blurring of her senses. She had set aside a legacy for Joseph, a legacy for Anna, and she asked to see Candida Sayle. But Candida was out, and when she came she came too late. They did not tell her of Miss Olivia’s last words. She sat propped up against half a dozen pillows, and when she knew that Candida would be too late she used her hard-won breath to say,
‘I wanted to curse her. She would have remembered that.’
Chapter Forty-three
Miss silver had rather a touching interview with Mr. Puncheon. She was hardly prepared for the warmth of his gratitude or the generous size of the fee which he pressed upon her acceptance.
‘It will be very good of you if you will take it,’ he said. ‘My sister is comfortably provided for, and I have no other kith or kin. If poor Alan had been different and had lived, I should have left him what I have, so it is only right that you should accept a proper reward for clearing his name. The false accusation against him killed my wife. It not only did that, but – ’ He hesitated, took off his glasses, and looked at her with moistened eyes. ‘I wonder if you will understand me when I say that it seemed to come between us. I could take no comfort in recollecting the happy times we had had together – the trouble about Alan seemed to cloud it all. But now that he is cleared, I have that comfort again. I think I told you that I was very fond of my wife. Perhaps you can understand how I feel.’
Miss Silver understood very well. She said so with great kindness.
The case of Joseph Rossi was a considerable headache for the police. Though it was extremely probable that he had murdered Miss Cara to prevent her giving the alarm and bringing Alan Thompson’s death and the whereabouts of the Treasure to light, there really was a conspicuous lack of any evidence likely to secure a verdict of guilty if he were brought before a jury. Miss Silver had heard Miss Olivia accuse him, but he had denied the accusation, and being dead she could not be called upon to substantiate it. It was remembered that she had brought a similar and quite unfounded accusation against her niece Miss Candida Sayle. The papers went to the Public Prosecutor, and they probably gave him a headache too. The whole thing smelled to heaven, but where was the evidence? Miss Cara Benevent had been found dead with her skull smashed in, and the body had certainly been moved. There was the evidence of one witness to a conversation between Miss Olivia Benevent and Joseph Rossi, according to which the moving of the body was admitted between them, but the defence would of course represent this action in quite another light than that of guilt. Confronted by a terrible emergency, an old lady and her devoted servant had taken what steps they might to preserve a long treasured family secret. It had probably never occurred to them that they were doing anything illegal. All very easy and plausible.
The iron bar, which might have supplied some evidence, was, to put it baldly, a washout. It bore traces of having been used to cause the fatal injury, but it was too deeply rusted to carry any man’s fingerprints. How it came to the place where it was found, there was nothing to show. It could have been snatched up by Joseph Rossi and used to silence a frightened woman, or it could have been in some way part of the trap which guarded the Benevento Treasure. Word went back to the county police that there was not sufficient grounds for a prosecution, and Joseph Rossi was discharged.
He walked in upon his wife Anna, who was still at the house in Retley where Miss Olivia had died. There was some good furniture there, and Mr. Tampling was paying her a wage as caretaker. She had opened the door, and he was in the hall almost before she realised that it was he.
‘You don’t seem very pleased to see me,’ he said.
She had turned very pale. She went back a step.
‘It is just – that I am – surprised.’
He went through into the kitchen and sat down.
‘Well, cook me a meal – and it had better be a good one! How much money have you got in the house?’
She stood on the other side of the table and stared at him.
‘I don’t know.’
The words were slow and reluctant. His came back quick and cold.