‘You thought it was Mr Blount. Did you recognize him?’
‘No, I can’t say I did.’
‘Well, go on, Mrs Harrison.’
She stared at him defensively.
‘There isn’t any more. You don’t suppose I was going to stay there after being knocked down like that? I got up and I went back home as quick as I could.’
‘Did you go inside the gazebo?’
Her temper flared.
‘How do you mean, did I go into the gazebo? What do you take me for? I suppose poor Winifred Graham was lying there dead, wasn’t she? If I’d gone into the gazebo I’d have fallen over her! Do you really suppose I’d have come away and left her lying like that? Because I wouldn’t! I don’t know what you think people are made of! Why, she mightn’t even have been dead!’
The Inspector wrote that down, as he had written all the rest. Frank said,
‘Oh, I don’t think there is any doubt that she was dead.’
FORTY-TWO
THE INQUEST ON Mrs Graham was held next morning. Althea described how she had found her mother’s body, medical evidence was taken from Dr Barrington and from the police surgeon who had carried out the autopsy, after which the police asked for an adjournment. The funeral took place early the same afternoon. Miss Silver was thankful when both these events were over.
Althea gave her evidence simply and clearly and took part in the funeral service with quiet self-control. Nicholas sat beside her in the church and slipped a hand inside her arm at the graveside, but it was necessarily a day of severe and continued strain.
Nicholas came back to the house, and Miss Silver left him and Althea together. As far as their personal problem was concerned the outlook had brightened. Nicholas had not been arrested, and in the light of the Harrisons ’ statements it was now in the highest degree unlikely that any charge would be brought against him.
Frank Abbott went up to town to confer with his superiors, and presently found himself making for Cleat in a police car driven by Sergeant Hubbard, who was wearing a suit the twin of his own in everything but cut, and a handkerchief, a tie, and a hat which were reverential copies. Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but it must be admitted that when owing to a calamitous difference in personal appearance the imitation approximates to parody, the result may be a severe strain upon the temper of the person imitated. There were times when Detective Inspector Frank Abbott was amused, and there were times when he was exasperated. This was one of the times when he was exasperated.
But the afternoon was a fine one, Sergeant Hubbard a very good driver, and once clear of London and its suburbs the scenery extremely pleasing. There was also the satisfaction of feeling that the case was practically in the bag, and that Jack Harrison had been prompted to unburden himself in time for the mistake of arresting Nicholas Carey to be avoided. The Press is not backward in looking after its own. The Janitor had a reputation. He thanked his stars that it had not been afforded a chance of living up to it.
Down at Cleat it was a very pleasant day. Mr Blount suggested an expedition to the cinema in a neighbouring town. Rillington was only five miles away, an agreeable bus ride. He invited Lizzie Pardue to accompany them and offered to stand treat, first tea at the Arcadia and then the cinema conveniently placed on the other side of the Square. Lizzie was thrilled. She hadn’t been brought up to have treats, her father having had very strong views as to woman’s place being in the home. What did they come into the world for if it wasn’t to do the cooking and the scrubbing and the bearing and rearing of the children, and where did all these things take place if it wasn’t in the home? Outings, junketings, gallivantings and such like – you’d only got to look around and you could see what come of them! Lightmindedness! Tittle-tattling! Gossiping! Idleness! And downright evil doing! ‘Look at those there suffragettes! What like of shameful carrying on do you call that? See’d it with my own eyes I did, forty years back and more! Votes for Women, they said! And what come of it? Two great wars and bombs adropping all over the place!’
Under this régime and with her nose very firmly held to the grindstone, Lizzie grew up with very little to distract her from the stricter ways of industry, and old Mr Pardue had his house kept like a newpin and an obedient daughter always at hand. Tea at the Arcadia and a cinema to follow were the height of dissipation. She put on her church-going clothes, a black coat and a skirt handed on by the Vicar’s wife after the Vicar had gazed disapprovingly at it and remarked, ‘Really, my dear, I don’t think you can wear that any more even at a funeral,’ and a rather crushed black hat with a piece of red ribbon tied round it and a bunch of daisies to cover the knot.
Mrs Blount wore the shapeless clothes in which Miss Silver had seen her. She had travelled down in them, and she put them on just as she put on her hat without so much as looking in the glass. If it crossed her mind to wonder why Sid who never took her anywhere should be taking them to the cinema, it was in the vaguest possible manner. In fact everything in her mind was vague. It was a relief to be at Cleat, it was a relief to be with Lizzie Pardue, it was a relief to have a room of her own. She had slept heavily on the narrow truckle bed. She didn’t feel very far off sleep as they sat in the Rillington bus. In fact she did nod and sit up again with a start when Lizzie nudged her. After that she kept her eyes wide open and fixed them on the road. It made her feel a bit giddy, but anything was better than to have Sid notice that she had nearly dropped off.
She need not have worried. Mr Blount was perfectly aware of her confused state of mind and very well satisfied with it. It wouldn’t do for her to go to sleep in the bus, but all to the good if she were to appear vague and drowsy. They had had a pot of tea after their midday meal, and the tablet which he had dropped into her cup should just do the trick nicely. It wouldn’t send her off, but it would make things easier all round.
The Arcadia Café was very full and very noisy. Lizzie Pardue enjoyed it to the full – the clatter of plates, the buzz of voices, and the continual rush and roar of the traffic outside. She had two cups of tea, scone and butter, three fancy cakes, and two chocolate biscuits. Milly Blount drank two cups of tea. They were scalding hot and they made her feel better. Aunt Lizzie kept pressing her to eat, but she didn’t feel as if she could. Every time that Lizzie Pardue pressed her Mr Blount felt a difficulty in restraining himself. He couldn’t even frown because of wanting everyone to notice that his wife wasn’t herself and how kind and considerate he was being. But if he had to pay for two teas like the one Aunt Lizzie was having, it was no good saying he wasn’t going to be put out about it, because he was. Fancy cakes and chocolate biscuits for a woman who was going to be dead and out of his way before the day was an hour older – well, there wasn’t any sense in it, was there? Fortunately Milly was having enough sense to say no. He said loud enough to be heard by the people at the next table,
‘You’re not eating anything, my dear. Are you not feeling well?’
She was glad when they came out into the air, but when they had crossed the pavement and came to the kerb she hung back. The cinema stood at one corner of a four-crossway, and they were on another. There was a lot of traffic, and the noisy rush of it made her feel giddy again. When the lights changed Sid put his hand on her arm and guided her to the island in the middle of the road, and there they had to wait until they could cross to the other side. A lot of people were waiting too, the island was crowded.
Rillington is an old place with narrow streets and picturesque houses which motorists would like to see pulled down and antiquarians are prepared to battle for to the death. The struggle continues in the Press and in the local Council Chamber, but so far the antiquarians have held the position. The four wide roads which converge upon the town become four bottle-necks as they discharge their contents into what is known as the Square. It follows that cars and buses must of necessity pass very close to the islands. They stop when the lights are against them, but as soon as the green light goes on they go forward as fast as the local speed limit will allow, and sometimes a good deal faster. A bus-driver with the way clear before him and no policeman in sight is apt to chance his luck.