"Yes," I said fervently. "She did."
Janet looked at me sharply and I went on quickly: "Well, it's all over now."
"So many deaths," added Janet. "I don't like it. That volcano ... well, that's an act of God. Poor Mr. Esmond, too. I wonder how long his room will be left. His mother don't want anything disturbed. Are you going to stick to that, Miss Susannah? The papers in his desk ... his books and all that ... not to be touched ... left exactly as they were when he died... . Well, that's the way his mother wanted it."
"We'll see, Janet," I said.
She looked at me dolefully and went out. When she had gone I sat on my bed staring into space.
Does she suspect something? I asked myself.
I got through the evening quite well. I could manage with Emerald, for in the first place she was partially blind and was unable to notice any difference between Susannah and me. Moreover she was a woman who was completely wrapped up in herself, which was a great help in a situation like this one. Any differences she might discover she gave little thought to beyond assuming they were due to the effects of travel.
It was different with the servants. Some of them had known Susannah since her childhood, but I think they were accepting me as Susannah though they thought I had changed.
The one I really had to fear was Janet. Janet knew too much.
She knew of the existence of Suewellyn. She might put two and two together. And then what?
That very first evening the fact of how easily I could slip up was brought home to me. Who would have believed I could be betrayed by such a simple thing as a pudding?
The dessert that night was ginger pudding. I felt disinclined to eat anything and I had some cheese and biscuits after the main dish, declining the pudding. Chaston, the butler, must have reported this, for after I had said good night to Emerald and was going to my room, about to mount the staircase, a flustered red-faced woman came from behind the screens and placed her ample body between me and the stairs.
"Is anything wrong?" I asked.
"Yes, Miss Susannah, there is."
"What?" I asked.
"I'd like to know, miss, if you are of the opinion that I am no longer worthy to cook for this household."
Such a verbose statement, delivered in what I can only call a bellicose manner, was an indication that the ire of this lady had been most forcefully aroused.
I wondered why I should be confronted in this way and then I remembered that I was supposed to be Susannah, the mistress of this vast establishment.
"Why, no," I said. "I thought the food was excellent."
"What was wrong with my ginger pudding that it should be sent back untouched?"
"Nothing, I am sure."
"But something for you to turn your nose up at! Why, it was done special for you, knowing as how you had always had a partiality for the same. I go to the trouble to make it on your first night ... knowing as how I always did when you come home from anywhere ... and there'd always be hardly any left when it come back to my kitchen. Not so much as a sliver taken."
"Oh, M—" I had forgotten that I did not know her name. "I'm sorry. The fact is ... I'm too tired to be hungry tonight"
"No," she went on, ignoring my interruption. "It comes out just as it was took in. I said to myself when I see that pudding coming out: 'Well, Mrs. Bates, it seems your cooking ain't grand enough for them that is world travelers.' I could tell you, miss, there's some not very far from here who'd welcome in their houses someone who could make a ginger pudding like that one."
"It's only because I'm so tired, Mrs. Bates."
"You tired! You was never tired. And if that's what traveling's done for you, you'd do better to stay at home... ."
"Will you make a ginger pudding tomorrow night, Mrs. Bates?" I begged.
She sniffed a little but I could see she was beginning to be mollified. "I would if I was ordered."
"Then I should be able to enjoy it. I'm just too worn out ... and too lacking in appetite to do it justice tonight."
"You had cheese, Chaston tells me," she said accusingly. "You passed by my ginger pudding for cheese! When I think of you, standing on a chair, with your fingers in the basin taking licks when I wasn't looking ..." Her face wrinkled into a smile. "You said to me, 'It's the ginger, Mrs. Bates. The Devil tempted me.' You was a caution, you was, and ginger pudding was always your favorite. Now it seems ..."
"Oh no, no, Mrs. Bates, I still like it. Please make one tomorrow."
She was beginning to twinkle. "I couldn't make it out," she said, "when I see that pudding going out just as it had come in. It was enough to break any cook's heart."
She was mollified. She accepted my excuses. But what a fuss over a pudding. How careful I had to be!
I was exhausted when I reached my bedroom. I had learned a great deal and the most important thing I had discovered was how easily I could be betrayed.
I slept well. I suppose I was worn out physically and mentally. I awoke with the feeling which was becoming commonplace to me now—a mingling of terrible apprehension and excitement. Any hour could bring my deception out into the open, I realized. I should be lucky to survive for a few weeks.
I rose and went down to breakfast. I had an idea that this was taken any time between eight and ten and that one just helped oneself from the sideboard. I went into the room where we had dined the previous night. Yes, the table was set for breakfast and food was sizzling on the sideboard in silver dishes.
I helped myself and sat down, grateful to be alone. I was hungry in spite of the internal uneasiness.
While I was eating Janet looked in.
"Oh, early," she said in that familiar way of hers. "Not like you, Miss Susannah, to be up at this hour. What's happened to you? Changed your habits since abroad? Miss Lie-abed has become Miss Early Bird."
So once again I had slipped. I must remember that.
"I don't suppose Jeff Carleton will be here till ten," she went on. "He won't be expecting you to want to look round the estate with him at this hour, I can tell you. He was saying how glad he was that you were coming home. He says it's a great responsibility to have when he can't get permission for what he wants. Though, mind you, Mr. Esmond gave him more or less a free hand. He says he doesn't expect that from you."
I listened. So this morning I was to go round the estate with Jeff Carleton, the farm manager. I had to thank Janet for giving me plenty of information. I felt quite exhilarated to pick up so much. I was learning to keep my eyes and ears open.
I said: "I'll be ready when he comes. Ten o'clock, you say."
"Well, that was the time you and Mr. Esmond used to go with him, wasn't it?"
"Oh yes," I said.
"He's told Jim to get Blackfriar saddled for you. He's so certain you'll want to go round the estate at once."
I said again: "Oh yes."
"I don't suppose Blackfriar will have forgotten you. They say horses never forget. He was always good with you, though."
There was a warning in this. I felt a momentary qualm. What if the horse rejected me? There was an implication in Janet's words that Blackfriar, though good with Susannah, was inclined to be less so with others.
"I'll leave you to your breakfast," said Janet.
I went up to my room and changed into riding kit. I uttered a prayer of thanksgiving to my father for bringing a couple of horses to the island and to the Halmers for making me ride so often on the property. They were all such expert riders and galloping through the bush with them and trying to keep up with their skill had given me confidence and a certain expertise.
Just after ten o'clock Jeff Carleton arrived at the house. I went down to meet him.
"Well, Miss Susannah," he said, seizing my hand, "it is good to see you back. We'd been hoping you'd come before. This has been a terrible tragedy."