The hand with the tablet remained stretched out. Penny made no move. She said,
“It’s no good. I know.”
The tablet was set down on a photograph album. Cassy Remington’s voice went sharp.
“Do you want me to go to the telephone and ring up the police now? I am going to unless you take that tablet and go off to bed. I shall tell them that I saw Felix come in off the road at twenty to five. I shall tell them I know my watch was right because I set it by the wireless at one o’clock. I was looking out of Florence ’s window, you know, and I saw him. But if you will take that tablet and go off to bed, we can talk about it again in the morning. When you are calmer.”
“No!”
Cassy Remington struck her hands together.
“You want me to telephone to the police? Really, Penny, you are the most unreasonable creature! Do you suppose I am anxious to bring disgrace on the family? After all, Felix is my nephew.”
“You were very careful to tell Inspector Crisp that he wasn’t.”
Cassy stamped her foot.
“The papers will say that he is! And everybody knows we brought him up. Come along-take your coffee and the tablet, and we’ll talk in the morning. You don’t want to force me to do anything that you’ll be sorry for all your life. Because once I’ve told the police-once I’ve told them, Penny-there’ll be an end of it. I can’t say it and take it back again!” She laughed suddenly. “Dear me, I don’t know what all the fuss is about. I used to think you would do anything for Felix. But if you won’t-well, I can’t make you, can I? I’ll just go down and ring up the police.”
Penny said, “No-no!”
Miss Silver could see her now. Her eyes were wide and dark, her hands pressed together under her chin. She took a slow step forward, and another, and another, and came to the table. One of the clasped hands moved, released itself, and came down towards the tablet. But it did not take it up. It caught at the table edge. She said in a very low voice,
“If I wasn’t here-there would be nothing to stop you.”
“There isn’t anything to stop me now,” said Cassy Remington.
Chapter 41
Miss Silver pushed the door open and came into the room. Cassy Remington whisked round. For a moment those rather bright blue eyes of hers stared. Then she gave a little affected cry.
“Oh! You gave me quite a fright! What is it? How in the world did you come here? What do you want?” With each of the short sentences her voice was higher and angrier.
Miss Silver said very composedly,
“I want to make sure that Penny does not drink that coffee or take that tablet which you have laid out for her.”
Cassy Remington laughed, high and shrill.
“The tablet! Dear me-you must forgive me if I laugh! You can have it analysed if you like! And what a fool you will be making of yourself! I can show you the bottle it came out of. They are perfectly harmless tablets. My sister has taken them for years.”
Miss Silver coughed gently.
“How full was the bottle when you took it from Mrs. Brand’s room, and how empty is it now? It is that cup of coffee which should be analysed. I think I will take charge of it.”
She came up to the table as she spoke. But she had hardly lifted the cup before Cassy caught her by the wrist and dashed it from her hand. The cup fell, the coffee spilled upon the carpet. The blue eyes blazed in triumph.
“Now get it analysed!”
Miss Silver raised her voice and called, “Mr. Cunningham!”
It was plain that he had not remained on the far side of the door between the houses, since he was in the room before she had finished saying his name. Miss Silver addressed him immediately and without any sign of disturbance.
“Will you be so kind as to pick up that coffee-cup? The contents will have to be analysed.” Then, as he did so, “There should, I think, be enough of the coffee left to show whether it has been tampered with.”
He stood there with the cup in his hand, tilting it.
“There is about a third left, and a considerable white sediment.”
Penny had not moved, except to lift her eyes to Miss Silver’s face. They had a wide, fixed look. Cassy Remington stood beside the table, rigid with anger, her colour high. At Richard’s last word she made a sudden spring, catching at his hand and at the cup. But the attempt failed. The hand was lifted and the cup held high above her reach. In a kind of whirlwind of fury she ran out of the room and down the stairs.
Richard Cunningham said, “What now?” He brought his hand down and gave Miss Silver the cup. She said gravely,
“I think you should go after her, and I think you should be quick.”
She set down the cup, went over to the window, and opened it. The sound of running feet came to them, stumbling in their haste. She said gravely,
“You had better go through the other house and take Constable Wilkins with you. I will call up the police.”
She had a start of them. Richard Cunningham had to put his shoes on, lay hands on a torch, and collect Joe Wilkins from the kitchen. They went out of the back door and stood listening at the edge of the lawn where the steps went down towards the beach. She could have reached it, knowing every step of the way. But the tide was up, there was no sand to muffle her footsteps. If she moved upon the shingle, they would hear her. They heard nothing.
Descending from terrace to terrace, each was found to be empty. They came down the last steps and stood where the body of Helen Adrian had lain. The water did not come up so far. Even the highest tide with the wind behind it would not come up as far as the steps.
Richard spoke his thought aloud.
“She couldn’t get around the point.”
“Not either way-not for getting on for three hours, I should say.”
“Could she get away up the cove?”
Joe shook his head in the dark.
“Not likely-not her. I’ve done it when I was a boy, but I wouldn’t say I could do it now-not in the dark.”
They did what they could. Joe tramped in the shingle, making a circuit of the upper end of the cove, throwing the torchlight before him, whilst Richard stood on guard at the bottom of the steps. Listening to the noise which his boots made on the shingle, magnified by an echo from the steep sides of the cove, Richard considered that Cassy Remington had very little chance of getting away unheard. He began to wonder if they had missed her in the dark somewhere on one of the terraces, a supposition which brought a host of unwelcome fears in its train. Suppose she had doubled back into the house. If she was the murderer they had been looking for she might be insane, and was certainly dangerous. He endured some of the longest and most uncomfortable minutes of his life until the arrival of the police set him free to go back to the house. He had not imagined that he would ever greet Crisp with so much relief.
He found everyone up in both houses, and a state of furious activity prevailing, with Crisp at his most belligerent directing it. Everyone, of course, had done everything they shouldn’t. It was inexcusable that the coffee should have been spilt. It was inexcusable that Miss Remington should have been allowed to leave the house. For his part, he could not see why she had done so. He knew what he would call evidence, but apparently Miss Silver had different ideas about it. Admitting that the two-thirds-empty coffee-cup contained a sediment, it wasn’t for him to say what it was. All this in front of everyone in the drawing-room.