“Not quite, Frank. Mrs. Merridew took me to call at the Dower House this afternoon, and Miss Cunningham was kind enough to take us over it. There are many points of historical interest, in addition to which I had the opportunity of checking Mrs. Hubbard’s story. The stair runs up to the bedroom floor, and there is a balustrade on either side. The woodwork has been painted a dark chocolate brown. Miss Cunningham said what a pity it was, but it was like that when they came, and the stair being not oak but some much softer wood, they had never liked to risk injuring it by having it stripped. Whilst this conversation was going on I was able to observe the balusters, and to verify Mrs. Hubbard’s story. There had been a recent flaking of paint from the two balusters she had mentioned and the square corners distinctly showed the marks of the twine. Furthermore, I could see for myself that there was some swelling above Miss Cunningham’s right ankle, and a weal which could be plainly discerned through her rayon stocking. It was also quite obvious that she had had a shock of some kind. She had tea with Mrs. Merridew yesterday, and there was no sign of it then. This afternoon she looked as if she had not slept all night, and it was plain that there was something on her mind. She was most kind in showing us over the house. I think she may even have been glad of something that would distract her thoughts, but she had difficulty in keeping them to the point, and on more than one occasion corrected herself in what she was saying.”
“You think an attempt was made to injure her?”
“I believe it may have been more serious than that. The stair is a steep one, and the hall is paved with stone. If she had lost her balance on the sixth step she would have had another fourteen steps to fall, and she would have pitched down them headfirst on to stone flags.”
“Who was in the house?”
“Her brother, Henry Cunningham, and her nephew Nicholas.”
“No one else?”
“No one else.”
After a pause he said,
“What makes you think it was Miss Cunningham who was aimed at? What about Henry wanting to get rid of Nicholas, or Nicholas wanting to get rid of Henry? That sort of thing has been known to happen.”
“Because I am convinced that Miss Cunningham herself believes it was she who was intended to fall, and her distress is occasioned by the conviction that either her brother or her nephew is attempting her life. There is the question of how she was to be induced to run down those stairs in such a hurry as to trip over the cord without noticing it. I do not think that a summons from below would have been risked. The next possibility which presents itself is a telephone call. The fixture is in the hall. Henry Cunningham will not speak on the telephone, so Mrs. Merridew informs me, and Nicholas only when the call is for him. It is, therefore, always Miss Cunningham who hastens to it in the first place. But to suppose a prearranged telephone call would be to assume an outside accomplice, a thing which would greatly increase the risks. How much easier and safer to place an ordinary alarm clock in the hall. It could be set to any hour of the night, and the bell would be indistinguishable from that of the telephone.”
He said with a faintly sardonic inflection,
“You think of everything, don’t you?” And then, “Perhaps you can tell me why anyone should want to disable or kill Miss Cunningham.”
She said very gravely indeed,
“What was the motive for the removal of Maggie Bell and of Miss Holiday? Miss Cunningham knows too much. I believe that to be the explanation in all these cases. Each of them had, or stumbled upon, a piece of knowledge which was dangerous to someone else. It is possible, perhaps even probable in the cases of Maggie Bell and Miss Holiday, that they were not aware, or at any rate not fully aware, of the implications of what they knew. In each case swift and ruthless action was taken to ensure silence. In the case of Miss Cunningham, she was one of the last people to see Miss Holiday alive. She met her coming away from Crewe House on Sunday evening, and she had a few words with her. She did not respond when I asked her what Miss Holiday had said, but passed the question off with a vague repetitive phrase. I did not say more at the time-she was having tea with Mrs. Merridew-but I feel that she should be pressed upon the subject.”
“But, my dear ma’am, she has been pressed. Didn’t I tell you?”
“I think not, Frank.”
He said in an apologetic tone,
“I’ve been run off my feet. But here it is. Denning has been combing the place for anyone who might have met or seen Miss Holiday after she left Crewe House. Well, he turned up a girl called Mary Tufton who was bicycling back to Melbury after a visit to some people on a farm the other side of Hazel Green. She says that somewhere about half past five she saw Miss Cunningham near the drive of Crewe House. She knows her quite well by sight, because Mrs. Tufton used to do a little odd dressmaking for her. Anyhow, she says a woman in a raincoat came out of the gate at Crewe House and Miss Cunningham stopped and spoke to her. One of them dropped what looked like a letter and Miss Cunningham picked it up. The other woman had her handkerchief out and was blowing her nose. She saw all this as she came up to them-there’s a long straight piece of road there, as you know-and as she went by, Miss Cunningham turned in at the drive and the other woman went on in the direction of the village. Mary says it all passed in no time at all. They met, Miss Cunningham picked up the letter, and went on. Denning asked Miss Cunningham about it, and she said yes, that was just what happened. Miss Holiday dropped a letter when she used her handkerchief, and she picked it up again. She had just stopped to have a word with her. And as the letter was open and had been addressed to Miss Crewe, she offered to take it up to Crewe House.”
“She did not say what the word was about?”
He laughed.
“I don’t suppose it was about anything. Denning did his job all right, you know. He asked her if Miss Holiday seemed to be upset about anything, and she said oh no, she was just as usual. By the way, he went on and saw the cook at Crewe House- what’s her name, Mrs. Bolder-and she said the same. I gather he came away rather the worse for wear. She wanted to know what he thought she would be doing upsetting anyone. Umbrage was taken, and he wasn’t sorry to get away from her. A lady with a tongue!”
Miss Silver was not knitting at quite her usual speed. After a moment she said,
“Thank you, Frank. I cannot say that I am satisfied. If Miss Holiday was murdered, there must have been a motive for her murder. Someone who was in contact with her must have decided that she had become, or was becoming, dangerous and must be got rid of. It seems as if the danger may have arisen suddenly. In which case every contact with her during those last few hours of her life must be regarded as important and very carefully considered. Miss Cunningham may be aware of something which she has not seen fit to pass on to the police.”
“You are suggesting that Miss Holiday had acquired some dangerous knowledge, and that she may have indicated as much to Miss Cunningham, or that she may have been thought to have done so. Well, then, what about Mrs. Maple and Mrs. Selby? Don’t forget they saw her too, and that in the case of Mrs. Selby there was every opportunity for confidences.”
Miss Silver inclined her head.
“Quite so. But I think Mrs. Maple is negligible. The contact between her and Miss Holiday was brief, and any confidence very unlikely when it would have to be shouted into the ear of so deaf a person.”
“What about Mrs. Selby-a very likely candidate? Nobody seems to have tried to get her out of the way.”
Miss Silver put her head a little on one side in the manner which always reminded him of a bird and said,
“I find the immunity of Mrs. Selby very interesting, my dear Frank.”