In the Balance

by Patricia Wentworth - Miss Silver 04 - In the Balance

  “Of course if you prefer not to make any statement until the inquest you are quite within your rights.”

  He saw Dale frown, and thought his shot had gone home.

  “I have not the slightest objection to making a statement.”

  Mr Jerningham could be haughty when he liked. He was being haughty now. Inspector March permitted himself an inward smile.

  “Thank you. I am sure you will understand that we want as much information as possible about this man Pell.”

  Dale nodded.

  “Naturally. I dismissed him on this girl’s account. I had no fault to find with his work—he is a very good mechanic. But he had been passing as a single man, and when it came out that he was married I had a complaint from the elder Miss Cole about his attentions to her niece.”

  “Miss Cole asked you to dismiss him?”

  “No—she wouldn’t do that. But she was very upset. She had just heard of his having a wife over at Packham—he comes from there. The Coles have been tenants of my family for a great many years, and I felt bound to do something about it. I gave the man his money and told him to clear out.”

  “Did you know that he had got a job up at the aerodrome?” said the Inspector.

  Dale’s shoulder lifted.

  “Yes—it was none of my business. He’s an excellent mechanic.”

  “Miss Cole did not make any further appeal to you?”

  Dale shook his head.

  “She came to see my wife yesterday afternoon.”

  “Didn’t you see her yourself?”

  “No.”

  “And later in the evening Cissie Cole came here also—to see Mrs Jerningham?”

  “I believe she did.”

  “You didn’t see her?”

  “No.”

  The Inspector sat back. Mr Jerningham had found his tongue, but was not very free with it. He said,

  “Would you mind telling me what you yourself did during the rest of the evening?”

  “Certainly. My cousin, Lady Steyne, drove me up to the aerodrome. I had fixed up to do some night flying.”

  “Do you remember what time it was when you left the house?”

  “About ten minutes past nine, I think.”

  “Was Cissie Cole still here?”

  “I don’t know—I suppose she was. We were having coffee on the terrace, and my wife had not come back. She was fetched away to see Cissie.”

  “You didn’t happen to pass the girl in the drive then, or see her later?”

  Dale shifted again. His arm came down. He said,

  “Certainly not.”

  “Did you go straight to the aerodrome?”

  “Well, no, we didn’t. It was a lovely evening, and we drove about a bit.”

  “Did you go in the direction of Tane Head?”

  “Yes—in that sort of direction.”

  “And did you stop your car and walk up on to the headland?”

  Dale made an abrupt movement.

  “Look here, Inspector—”

  He met a very steady, intelligent gaze. Inspector March said equably,

  “Lady Steyne’s car was seen standing by the track which leads on to the headland from Berry Lane. You will understand that I am anxious to know who else was on the cliffs last night. How long were you there?”

  Dale Jerningham sat forward.

  “I don’t know—some time—we walked about a bit.”

  “Did you go right up on to the headland?”

  “Yes, I think we did.”

  “Did you see anyone whilst you were there?”

  “There were some children in the lane.”

  “No one else?”

  Dale was silent.

  “Mr Jerningham, if you did see anyone, it is a serious matter for you to withhold the fact.”

  There was a moment of doubt and of something like strain. Then it gave. Dale said,

  “I appreciate that. It is just because it may be serious that I hesitate. You see, the person I saw was Pell.”

  The Inspector looked at him keenly.

  “Where did you see him?”

  “He was coming down from the headland. He passed us and got on his motor-bike and rode away.”

  “What time was that?”

  “I don’t know—somewhere well before ten. There was still some light.”

  “Did he see you?”

  “I don’t know. We saw him.”

  The Inspector was silent for a while. If Pell had a motor-bike, there would have been time for him to pick Cissie up at the gates of Tanfield Court or on the road into the village. There would have been time for him to reach the headland with her, leaving his machine in the lane or on the track to the cliff. There would have been time—

  He asked suddenly, “Where was the motor--bike?”

  “Up along the track,” said Dale.

  “How far from the lane?”

  “Half way to the cliff.”

  “Was he in a hurry?”

  “In the devil of a hurry. That is why I wasn’t sure whether he had seen us. He came running down the track, flung himself on the bike, started up, and went tearing away like mad.”

  Inspector March wrote that down. He was thinking, “Well—ce n’est que le premier pas qui coûte. One minute he won’t say anything because the man is a poor devil who’s been in his employ, and the next he’s positively offering me the rope to hang him with.” He looked up and asked,

  “You didn’t see any sign of the girl?”

  “No.”

  “Or hear any cry?”

  “No—nothing. There are always seagulls.”

  “What did you do after that, Mr Jerningham?”

  “I think we walked up towards the cliff.”

  “And you neither saw nor heard anything of an unusual nature?”

  “No.”

  “And when did you reach the aerodrome?”

  Dale leaned back.

  “About eleven o’clock.”

  20

  “I SHOULD LIKE to see Lady Steyne,” said the Inspector. He got up and went towards the bell.

  Dale Jerningham stopped him.

  “You needn’t bother to ring—I’ll fetch her. I expect she’s on the terrace.”

  He got a shrewd, straight glance.

  “I was going to ask you to wait here till she came.” A firm thumb pressed the bell.

  Dale said, “Oh, just as you like.” He strolled over to the window and stood there looking out.

  William came, and went.

  Presently the door opened again and Alicia Steyne came in. She glanced first at the Inspector, who had remained standing, and then at Dale, who came to meet her. The Inspector thought her a very pretty woman and much younger than he had expected. Her neck and arms were bare and brown. Her white linen dress showed a slim and pretty figure. There was a carnation colour in her cheeks and her eyes sparkled. He noticed that they dwelt upon her cousin. He said,

  “I needn’t keep you now, Mr Jerningham. Will you sit down, Lady Steyne?”

  Dale got half way to the door. Then he turned and said,

  “I had to tell him about seeing Pell on the track. I put it at well before ten. Is that what you would say?”

  Alicia sat down composedly. She seemed to consider the question.

  “I don’t know—I suppose so. Does it matter?”

  “It might,” said the Inspector. “If you don’t mind, Mr Jerningham, I would rather Lady Steyne made quite an independent statement.”

  Dale said, “Oh, all right,” hesitated a moment, and then went out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

  The Inspector sat down and took up his pen.

  Alicia was lighting a cigarette. When she had got it going she tossed the spent match into the waste-paper basket with an accurate, vigorous aim, and said in her sweet, high voice,

  “This is a damnable business, isn’t it? Dale’s horribly upset about it.”

  “In what way, Lady Steyne?”

  She sketched
a gesture with her cigarette.

  “Oh, well, you know—the whole thing—this wretched man Pell being in his employment. And Dale swore by him—said he was the best mechanic he had ever had. You know he’s mad on flying, and he was going to have his own plane and keep Pell for the ground work. He really was awfully good. I hear he’s bolted. Have you got him yet?”

  “No, not yet. Did you know this girl Cissie Cole?”

  Alicia drew at her cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke.

  “I knew her when she was a child. This was my home till I married. I was brought up here with my cousins, so of course I know everyone in the village. Dale’s very feudal, you know. That’s why he went off the deep end about Pell. The Coles belong to Tanfield, they’ve belonged for about three hundred years, and Tanfield belongs to him. Touch one of my people and you touch me. Pell might have committed bigamy in any other village in England, but not in Tanfield. You see?”

  March nodded.

  “Yes. You say you knew Cissie Cole as a child. Had you not seen her since?”

  “Oh, yes—at intervals—as one does, you know. I’ve bought stamps from her in the post office when her aunt was busy, and said good-morning when I passed her in the village—that sort of thing.”

  “Did she talk to you about this affair with Pell?”

  “Oh lord, no!” She paused, and added, “I believe she talked to Lisle—Mrs Jerningham. I don’t live here now, you now—I’m only on a visit.”

  “I see. Now, Lady Steyne, perhaps you would just tell me what you were doing between nine and eleven o’clock last night.”

  Alicia sat back. She held her cigarette away and said in a considering tone,

  “Nine to eleven—oh, certainly. Dale rang up the aerodrome and arranged to do some night flying—that was just before nine, I think— and then I got out my car and we drove about a bit and went up on to the cliffs—”

  “At Tane Head?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long were you there?”

  “Well, we got to the aerodrome at eleven. I don’t know how long we were up on the moor.” She laughed suddenly. “You know, Inspector, this is all damnably compromising—or at least that’s what it’s going to look like by the time it gets into the papers. Honestly, it’s rather hard luck. We go for a harmless evening stroll and before we know where we are we’re let in for an inquest, and everybody thinking the worst about us. Dale’s fed to the teeth.”

  The Inspector thought that as far as Lady Steyne was concerned she appeared to be in very good spirits. He reflected that she was a widow and that Jerningham was married, and he speculated for a moment on Mrs Jerningham’s attitude towards cousinly strolls on Tane Head. He asked her about the meeting with Pell, and found her answers vague. It was quite light enough to recognise him. It had been a particularly fine evening and the light stayed late on the cliffs. He came running down the track and got on his motor-bicycle and rode away. She couldn’t say whether he saw them or not—he might have—they were not on the track, but they were not far away. She agreed that it could not have been much later than a quarter to ten. No, she hadn’t heard any cry, and she had never been near enough to the edge of the cliff to look over. No, she hadn’t seen anyone else up there. There were some children in Berry Lane.

  “And you were up on the headland till about a quarter to eleven?”

  “Yes. It would take about a quarter of an hour to drive to the aerodrome.”

  “If Cissie Cole had been on the headland when you got there, would you have seen her?”

  “We might have. We didn’t.”

  “Let me put it this way—could she have been there without your seeing her?”

  “Oh, easily. Haven’t you seen the place? It’s all up and down, with blackberry thickets and gorse—plenty of cover.”

  “And the light was good enough for you to have recognised her?”

  She drew at her cigarette and blew out the smoke.

  “That depends on what you mean by recognise. We should have seen if there had been anyone there. We saw Pell—oh, a long way off—but I didn’t recognise him till he passed us.”

  March said, “I see—” And then, “Were you and Mr Jerningham together?”

  Alicia laughed.

  “You’re quite determined to compromise me—aren’t you?”

  “You were together all the time?”

  She laughed again.

  “Now what did Dale say when you asked him that? Are you trying to catch me? I believe you are, so I’m going to be on the safe side. We weren’t actually holding hands, and I’m not going to swear I never took my eyes off him—you can’t expect me to give myself away to that extent, can you?—but —well, I suppose you can guess that we didn’t go up there to sit under separate gorse bushes about a quarter of a mile apart. And when you have guessed, I hope you won’t think it necessary to tell.”

  She threw the stub of her cigarette after the match, and with just as good an aim. Then she smiled enchantingly.

  “Dale really is frightfully upset,” she said. “There’s nothing in it, but his wife’s that sort of person, and he’s got visions of headlines in the papers, and scenes about it with her, and the village simply buzzing. I told you he was feudal, and I do believe it’s the village talk he really minds about most.” She pushed back her chair and got up. “Is that all? Who do you want to see next —Lisle? She really did talk to Cissie last night, you know.”

  Inspector Marsh said, “Yes. Perhaps you would ask her to come in.”

  21

  LISLE AND RAFE were still in the hall when Alicia came out of the study. They had not moved, and neither of them had said a single word either to one another or to Dale, who had gone past them with a black frown.

  Alicia Steyne approached them smiling.

  “Rather a good-looking policeman—old school tie and all that sort of thing. He’s frightfully disappointed because Dale and I didn’t actually see Pell push Cissie over the cliff. It must have been quite a near thing, you know.” She linked her arm with Rafe’s. “Where’s Dale? I want to compare notes and see if we have contradicted each other anywhere. By the way, Lisle, he wants you—the policeman, not Dale.”

  As Lisle came into the study she couldn’t help thinking of what she had seen there only yesterday. It felt much longer ago than that—but it was only yesterday that she had looked from the gun-room door and seen Dale and Alicia...She put the thought away with a shuddering effort.

  Inspector March thought how pale she was. She gave him her hand as if he had been an invited guest, and then sat down and looked at him with the grave attention of a child that has a lesson to say.

  “Mrs Jerningham, I believe you saw Cissie Cole last night.”

  “Yes.”

  She thought, “He has a nice voice—he looks kind.” She relaxed a little.

  “Her aunt, the elder Miss Cole, had already been to see you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you tell me what passed between you?”

  “She was worried about Cissie and—and—Pell. She was worried about his having got a job at the aerodrome. She wanted me to ask my husband to do something about it. I told her I didn’t think he would interfere—he wouldn’t keep Pell here, but he wouldn’t interfere with his getting any other work.”

  “Yes—go on, Mrs Jerningham.”

  Lisle looked down at her own hands lying in her lap.

  “She was very much upset. She said Pell wouldn’t leave Cissie alone. When I said Dale wouldn’t interfere, she asked me if I would see Cissie, and I said I would. I didn’t think I could do any good but I didn’t like to say no.”

  “And Cissie came to see you last night. Can you remember what time that was?”

  “Yes, I think so. We came out of the dining-room about twenty to nine. We were going to have coffee on the terrace. William brought it out there, but he came back to say that Cissie had come before I had time to drink mine.”

  “That would make it about a quarter
to nine?”

  Lisle said, “Something like that.”

  “And when did she go away?”

  Lisle thought before she answered him.

  “She didn’t stay very long—about a quarter of an hour, I should think. I went up to my room to get a coat I was giving her, and we talked for a little, but I don’t think she was there for more than a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes—it might have been twenty minutes.”

  “That would mean she left you at about five minutes past nine.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you go back to the terrace and drink your coffee?”

  A little tremor ran over her.

  “Yes. It was cold.”

  “And your husband and Lady Steyne—were they still there?”

  “No, they had gone. She was driving him to the aerodrome.”

  “Well, they seem just to have missed Cissie Cole. Now, Mrs Jerningham, will you tell me about your conversation with Cissie—everything you can remember. Never mind whether it seems important or not.”

  Lisle raised her eyes to his face—beautiful, serious eyes of a grey so dark as to seem almost black. The lashes which shaded them were dark also. Under that very fair hair and against the whiteness of her skin they gave her a strange grieving look. She began telling him about the coat.

  “It was quite a new one. I chose it in a bad light and it was too bright for me, but Cissie liked bright things and I thought it would please her—”

  “Just a minute, Mrs Jerningham. This coat—had it a red and green check on a cream ground?”

  Lisle said, “Yes.” Her eyes widened with horror as he said,

  “She was wearing it when she fell.”

  He saw that faint shudder go over her again, but she went on looking at him. He said gently,

  “It’s very distressing, but will you tell me just how she took it—the gift of the coat. What I want to get at is her state of mind—and with the probable exception of Pell you must be the last person she talked to.”

  She put up her hand to her cheek and held it there.

  “Yes, I know—I’ll do my best.” There was a moment’s pause. Then she went on, “I gave her the coat, and she said it was lovely. She really did seem very much pleased. She put it on and looked at herself in the glass. Then she took it off and folded it up.”