“As you say. Everything shall be gone through with the toothcomb. Well, I suppose I had better be getting along.”
CHAPTER 25
Miss Silver detained him with the slightest of gestures.
“If you can spare me a few moments-”
“Of course. What is it?”
“There are some enquiries which it would not be possible for me to attend to, but which I must be very glad if you could make.”
He was able to recognize this mild and tentative approach and allow himself some irreverent amusement. There were chestnuts to be picked out of the fire, and he was for it. Recalling some other occasions, the amusement subsided and an alert attention took its place.
“Well, ma’am, what are they?”
“You will, perhaps, remember that I mentioned a Mrs. Maberly to you.”
“Did you? I believe you did-Henry Cunningham and the fatal diamond ring. She left it about, it vanished, and everyone made up their minds that Henry had taken it. After which he fled the country and didn’t come back for twenty years. It’s rather an old story, isn’t it? Who am I supposed to interrogate- Mrs. Maberly, or the submerged Henry?”
She looked some slight reproof and said,
“Neither. Mrs. Maberly left the neighbourhood and, I believe, the country not very long after the loss of the ring. I understand that she and her husband went to America. I merely wished to remind you of the occurrence.”
There was a faint sardonic gleam in his eye.
“Synopsis of the story up to date. Now read on! What is the next instalment?”
She said soberly,
“I have been struck by the fact that there seemed to have been quite a number of other incidents connected with the theft, or perhaps I should say the abstraction, of jewels. Mrs. Merridew introduced the subject on Sunday when Miss Crewe was here at tea. A Lady Muriel Street was mentioned. She and her husband live at Hoys, a large place just beyond the village. I gather that she is one of those people who run round telling everyone their family affairs down to the last detail. It seems she has just discovered that a large and handsome diamond brooch left to her by her godmother is merely an imitation. The centre stone is of considerable size, and she had always supposed the ornament to be worth a very large sum, but on attempting to sell it she was informed that the stones were paste.”
Frank said,
“Well, well. I think she would have done better to hold her tongue.”
Miss Silver turned the cherry-coloured leggings.
“That was Miss Crewe’s remark. She then capped Mrs. Merridew’s story with one about Lady Melbury, who appears to have suddenly discovered that a necklace supposed to be extremely valuable and worn by her great-grandmother at Queen Victoria’s coronation was in reality a mere imitation. Miss Crewe commented very unfavourably upon Lord Melbury’s folly in talking about the matter. Lady Melbury would, I gather, have remained silent, but her husband, who is one of those easygoing sociable men, went about telling everyone and rather openly wondering which of his ancestors had effected the substitution.”
Frank said quickly,
“The necklace would have had to be valued for probate. I’m afraid he can’t put it on the ancestors.”
Miss Silver coughed.
“That does not seem to have occurred to him. Lady Melbury is an extravagant woman, and has been a beauty. He is probably the only person in the county who does not believe that she disposed of the necklace herself. These grand jewels appear so seldom, and then only in circumstances where they are unlikely to be exposed to the eye of an expert, that a substitution could be made with very little risk of discovery.”
He laughed.
“And by the time it came to valuation for probate Lady Melbury wouldn’t have to worry! Just between you and me, I wonder how often it has been done. Most of the great families are broke, and why keep capital locked up in jewels which only the expert can tell from a copy? Well, all this is very interesting, but where does it get us?”
Miss Silver extracted a new ball from her knitting-bag. The joining of the strands of wool took up her attention for a moment. Her reply when it came was in her most persuasive voice.
“If you could see your way to making some enquiries of Lady Melbury and Lady Muriel Street -”
“My dear ma’am-on what grounds!”
She said,
“I supposed you would raise that point.”
“What have you got at the back of your mind-a hunch?”
“My dear Frank!”
“It will do just as well by any other name. Shall we say a suspicion?”
“It is hardly that.”
“What is it then?”
She stopped knitting and looked at him with a kind of earnest diffidence.
“I do not know quite how to put it. I have a feeling that when a number of curious things have been happening they may be connected with one another. I cannot at the moment bring any evidence to support this feeling, but I have wondered whether an interview with Lady Melbury and Lady Muriel might not produce some. The substitution of a copy for the original must have been made by someone able to obtain a drawing or photograph of sufficient accuracy to enable that copy to be made. There must also have been an opportunity of effecting the change. This opens up three possibilities. A member of the family. A confidential servant! A friend or a relative with the requisite access. All these possibilities should be tested. The one which occurs to me is the last of them. I may be wrong-I don’t know. There is a name that comes to my mind. I would like some enquiries to be made.”
He said in a doubtful voice,
“What name?”
“I would rather not say. The person of whom I am thinking is related to many people in the county. As a young woman she amused herself with sketching. She worships her house and her ancestry, and has been put to it to maintain the family tradition. One of the missing women was in her employment.”
Frank Abbott said,
“Miss Cunningham? Miss Crewe? The official eye has been rather fixed upon the Dower House. Henry was off the map for more than twenty years, Nicholas works at Dalling Grange, and Miss Cunningham was the employer of Maggie Bell-whom I suppose we may now regard as the late Maggie Bell.”
Miss Silver was knitting again, and quite briskly. She said in a decided tone,
“Something of a very disturbing nature occurred here last night. I think I had better tell you about it.”
“I think you had. When you say here-”
“I do not mean in this house.”
He felt some relief, and showed it.
“Thank goodness for that! Who was disturbed, and in what way?”
She said, “Miss Cunningham,” and proceeded to give him a very clear and succinct account of what Mrs. Hubbard had observed and deduced. It raised a frown, and some scepticism.
“What it amounts to is that Miss Cunningham burned some string-probably after tripping over it somewhere-and that Mrs. Hubbard found the bit that got away.”
He was instantly aware of being a pupil who had not given the right answer. Her glance rested on him in mild rebuke.
“Not string, Frank-garden twine.” She stopped knitting for long enough to produce a gummed-down envelope from her chintz bag and hand it over to him. “Here are the fragments found by Mrs. Hubbard. You will observe that the twine has been treated with tar, doubtless as a preservative, and that this would make it unsuitable for normal use inside the house. If, however, it was to be used as a trip-cord on the stairs, the dark colour would render it extremely inconspicuous. In the second case, Mrs. Hubbard reported that the balusters about six steps down from the landing were marked as if something had been tied tightly between them, and that some of the paint had flaked off.”
He said more soberly,
“This is third-hand evidence.”
She was knitting with a certain briskness to which he was no stranger.