"Killer of Janine Fletcher confesses."
It was written in flowery prose.
"In a little house on the outskirts of Wanstead near Epping Forest, Jack Everet Masters lay dying of self-inflicted wounds. Beside him was the body of his wife, Miriam Mary Masters. She had been dead some hours.
"They were known as the happiest couple in the neighbourhood. Jack was a seaman. Neighbours tell how his wife used to wait for his return and how each time he came home it was another honeymoon for them. Why should she then have decided to take her life by consuming an overdose of laudanum? It was because she could not face the consequence of a reckless act which took place during one of Jack's absences at sea."
"Double Suicide" was the next headline.
"Miriam could no longer tolerate the situation in which she found herself and decided she could no longer go on living. So, carefully writing two letters—one to Jack and one to the coroner—she confessed to the killing of Janine Fletcher. In that to her husband she gave her reasons for doing so.
"/ love you, Jack.
"The letter she wrote to her husband explained what happened. One night when Jack was at sea she had been persuaded by friends to go to a party. She had not wanted to and, little realizing that she was setting out on a path which would lead to misery and finally death, unused to alcohol, she took too much and was unaware of what was happening to her. Some person took advantage of the poor girl's state and seduced her with the result that she became with child. Miriam was desperate. How to tell Jack? Would he understand? She greatly feared that he would not. Her happiness was in ruins. She tried to plan a way out. She had heard of Mrs. Fletcher's Nursing Home in the New Forest. It was expensive, but discreet. She decided there was no alternative but to go there and get the child adopted when it arrived. Janine Fletcher, known as the niece of the owner of the nursing home, was there when Miriam had her baby. Janine knew her secret. The child was born and adopted.
Miriam came home to put the past behind her. And so she did, until Janine Fletcher turned up in her life.
"It is not an unfamiliar story. Janine wanted money to keep quiet. Miriam paid ... once or twice ... and then she found she could not go on paying. Greatly she feared the consequences. She could not face telling Jack. She acquired a gun. She went to Janine's rooms and shot her dead. She managed to get away without being seen. But she realized she could not live with such a secret, so she wrote those letters.
"Star-Crossed Lovers.
"They were Romeo and Juliet. He came and found her dead. He read her letter. He was prostrate with grief. He would have understood. He would have forgiven. Perhaps they would have found the child and he would have been a father to it.
"Too Late.
"She had killed Janine Fletcher. She must have realized, while she might have lived on weighed down by the sin of adultery, she could not by that of murder. So the star-crossed lovers died, and the mystery of who killed Janine Fletcher is solved."
Fabian called later in the morning.
"You've heard the news?" he said.
"Yes," I said. "I was deeply touched." I remembered Miriam so well. I remembered her misery and I thought how cruel life had been to her.
"You seem shaken," he said.
"I knew her. She was there when we were there. She was such a gentle person. I cannot think of her as a murderess."
"It closes up the case. We can breathe more easily now. Good God! It would have been certain to come out. Lavinia could have been caught up in all this. So could you. I was daily expecting something to be disclosed. And now it's all over."
I said, "She loved her husband ... deeply. And he must have loved her. He could not contemplate living without her. She made a deep impression on me."
"She must have been an unusual woman ... to take that gun and shoot her enemy."
"It all seems so unnecessary. If only she had told her husband! If only Janine had tried to work for her living and not turned to blackmail! If only Lavinia had not been carried away by that man!"
"If only the world were a different place and everyone in it perfect, life would be simpler, wouldn't it?" He smiled at me ruefully. "You look for perfection," he went on. "I believe you will have to do with something less. I am going to cheer you up. I am going to suggest that you have luncheon with me. I think we have something to celebrate. The case is over. I can tell you I have had some uneasy moments!"
"For Lavinia," I said.
"For you also."
"I had nothing to fear."
"It is never good to be connected with what is unsavoury. It leaves something behind. People remember ... vaguely. They forget details ... who was who ... what part they played. It is a great relief that it is over."
"I can't stop thinking of Miriam."
"She took what she thought was the best way out of her dilemma."
"And destroyed her life and that of her husband."
"Alas. It was her choice. It is a sad story. I will call for you at twelve-thirty."
Polly was pleased by the news.
"My goodness, it gave me the willies ... thinking what was going to happen next ... and now you are going to lunch with him." She shook her head. "You want to be careful with that one. I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw a goose feather."
"That might float in the air for quite a long time, Polly."
"It would come down pretty soon, I reckon. Take care."
"Oh, Polly, I will."
Over luncheon he treated with the utmost deference. He was in good spirits. Naturally, he had never met Miriam, and her tragedy meant little to him except an ending to a situation which could have become dangerous.
"Isn't it strange?" he said. "You and I have been acquainted since you were two years old and it is only now that we know each other. It took this little matter to bring us together. I very much regret that I shall soon be leaving England."
"You are going to India?"
"Yes, by the end of the year or the beginning of next. It is quite a journey."
"Have you ever done it before?"
"No. But I have heard a great deal about it. There are always people at the House connected with the East India Company and they discuss it constantly."
"You will go part of the way by ship, of course."
"One has to decide whether one will take the long haul round the Cape or disembark, say at Alexandria, and take the trek across the desert to Suez, where one can board an East Indiaman."
"Which you will do, I suppose."
"We take that route, yes. It saves time, but I believe crossing the desert can be a little hazardous."
"I am sure it will be of the utmost interest."
"I feel certain of that, too. But in a way I shall be sorry to leave England."
He smiled at me significantly and I felt myself flushing faintly. I could not forget that time when he had, as I believed, made a rather veiled suggestion to me.
"I don't know when your friend Dougal, our bridegroom, will be coming out," he went on. "He was to have done so, but it may be that his new commitments will keep him in England."
"Whereabouts is the ancestral home?"
"Not very far from Framling. I would say some forty or fifty miles." He looked at me intently. "I daresay you will be invited to visit. Perhaps you will enjoy that."
He had a way of insinuating meaning into his conversation. He implied that he knew of my feelings for Dougal and was translating them into aspirations and hopes. I felt indignant. It was a mood I was often verging on with him.
"Of course, the newly married couple may wish to be alone for a while, but doubtless that will pass. Then I am sure you will be an honoured guest."
"Lavinia will have new interests. I daresay she will have little time for me."