‘Well, not quite. To start off with, Craddock it is—and I take off my hat to you, though I suppose you will admit that it was a very long shot.’
She was knitting demurely.
‘They do occasionally hit the mark. So you found Mrs Craddock?’
‘Mr Craddock, Mrs Craddock and young, as stated. The young have to be seen to be believed. I am not surprised that Anna didn’t stay.’
Miss Silver said, ‘Oh?’ and stopped knitting. ‘She had been at Deep End with the Craddocks?’
‘And left before the end of the second week. But I expect you would like me to begin at the beginning.’
‘It would be as well. But pray do not hurry yourself. Hannah’s liver sandwiches are really very good indeed. I find them difficult to distinguish from pâté de foie gras.’
‘She is a genius. I warn you that I shall probably eat them all.’
‘That is what they are there for, my dear Frank. And pray do not let your coffee grow cold.’
He lay back in his chair with a feeling of being at home.
‘Well, Deep End used to be three cottages and a cow, with one of those overgrown Big Houses which have started Tudor and finished up Victorian. No, it was the war that finished it—direct hit right in the middle of the Great Hall, and consequent wreckage of most of the principal rooms. Rather appropriate, because the old family that had been there for donkey’s years had just petered out. Well, after standing derelict until three years ago it was bought for a song and patched together. That is to say, the middle block where most of the damage had been was tidied up, but there has been no attempt to make it habitable.’
‘Was it Mr Craddock who bought it?’
‘It was. He lives in one of the wings, and has let the other. And—prepare for a shock—he has changed the name from Deepe House to Harmony!’
Miss Silver coughed.
‘The intention of such names is no doubt laudable, but in practice they attract invidious criticism.’
‘Like the miserable little shrimps who get christened Gloria, and all the dark Italian girls who are called Bianca! Well, Craddock called the place Harmony and proceeded to start the Colony by letting out a lodge and the stables to assorted cranks, after which he got a permit and began to build.’
‘And Miss Ball?’
‘She was engaged as mother’s help to Mrs Craddock, but she only stayed a fortnight. If you saw the children you wouldn’t be surprised. They are being brought up in a state of nature.’
‘In this weather? My dear Frank!’
‘No, not nudist—they just do what they like, and if they wanted to go about without any clothes on, of course no one would stop them. You just let the natural tastes develop untrammelled and unchecked. I had a long and earnest talk with Mr Craddock about it. Children must never be thwarted, or they’ll get complexes, and they must never be punished or told anything is wrong, because of course a guilt complex is about the worst of the lot. I felt sorry for the unfortunate Anna Ball.’
‘I feel sorry for the children. Fancy going out into the world under the impression that you can always have your own way! Would anything be more likely to lead to disaster? But let us return to Miss Ball. If she left Deep End at the end of a fortnight, where did she go? Did she again leave no address?’
Frank nodded.
‘According to the Craddocks she just burst into tears one day and said the children were too much for her and she would like to go at once. So she packed her bag, and he drove her in to Dedham, where she took a third-class ticket for London, and that was that. She didn’t leave any address, because she said she hadn’t made up her mind what she was going to do, and she would write to her friends when she had. He said he pressed her, but she wasn’t very co-operative. From which I gather she had given him to understand it wasn’t his business. I got the impression that they hadn’t liked Anna any more than she liked them. But having seen the children, I don’t imagine they will find it at all easy to replace her.’
‘Are they trying to replace her?’
‘Mr Craddock said so.’
Miss Silver knitted in silence for a moment or two.
‘Had Mrs Craddock nothing to say?’
He laughed.
‘Very little. I should say that the spirit was more or less broken. One of those little tired women.’
‘And Mr Craddock?’
‘An eye like Jove to threaten and command. Very Jovian altogether. A brow and a good deal of hair. Looks like a tall man till he stands up. Quite a presence. The serious crank with Views and a belted blouse. Mrs Craddock merely wrapped in the common domestic overall.’
After a slight pause Miss Silver said,
‘Life must be very hard for her, poor woman. Has she no help at all?’
‘A daily was spoken of.’
‘They should certainly try to get someone who would live in. You say Mr Craddock mentioned that they were trying to do so?’
‘He said they were advertising, but it was so difficult to get someone to come to the country.’ He hesitated for a moment, and then went on. ‘As a matter of fact they seem to have had someone since Anna Ball, but she didn’t stay.’
‘They would not, I imagine, advertise under their name. A box number would be more usual. Mrs Dugdale takes the Daily Wire. If a previous advertisement appeared in that paper and was answered by Anna Ball, it is quite likely that they will use the same medium again. It would, I suppose, be possible for you to ask the Daily Wire to let you know if they receive any advertisement from the Craddocks, and to supply you with the box number allotted to it.’
His lazy gaze became a very direct one.
‘You mean we might send someone down there?’
‘I mean that I might go myself.’
No one who knew Frank Abbott would have suspected him capable of the vehemence with which he said,
‘No!’
‘My dear Frank!’
The vehemence persisted.
‘Why on earth should you? The whole thing is dead and done with. Anna Ball went there in November, and stayed less than a fortnight. She didn’t leave an address, and she hasn’t written to Thomasina. Repetition of her conduct when she left Mrs Dugdale.’
‘She meant to write to Thomasina Elliot. She left a trunk with her. Miss Elliot informs me that it contains all her winter clothes. She had only a suit-case with her, and we are now in the third week of January. I should like to satisfy myself that she really did leave Deep End.’
Frank made an impatient gesture.
‘Oh, she left all right. I didn’t only see the Craddocks, you know. I went the round of the Colony, just in case Anna had told anyone what she was going to do. They had all seen her, but it doesn’t seem to have got much farther than that. The Miss Tremletts, who do folk-dancing and handicraft, said she was very unresponsive. Miss Gwyneth Tremlett, who has a handloom, offered to teach her weaving, but she would have none of it. One Augustus Remington, a piece of whimsy who embroiders pictures on satin, stigmatized her as aloof. A florid and exuberant lady who calls herself Miranda—only that and nothing more—assured me that Anna had one of the gloomiest auras she had ever encountered, which, I imagine, was her way of saying the same thing. They seem to have taken a kindly interest. Rather a matey crowd. And they took it as a sign of grace when she drove over to Ledlington with the Craddocks and came back with a red hat. They thought the colour a little crude, but definitely a step in the direction of expressing joy, which the Miss Tremletts are tremendously keen about.’
Miss Silver said,
‘Why did she buy a red hat?’
‘The Craddocks gave it to her. “Dear Mrs Craddock, always so kind, so overburdened. And Mr Craddock—” I really can’t do justice to the spate of words about Craddock.’
Miss Silver had a very thoughtful expression. She said,
‘Why did they give Miss Ball a red hat?’
‘A desire to spread sweetness and light.’
‘And why are you telling me
about it?’
He was watching her between narrowed lids.
‘Because it is proof positive that Anna went away. Both the Miss Tremletts saw her go by with Craddock. So did Miranda and Augustus, who were having a cosy little confab over their mutual fence. You remember he drove her to Dedham, where she took a London ticket. And she really did, because I went to Dedham, and the stationmaster remembers Craddock seeing her off—a dark young woman in a red hat. He says she seemed a good deal upset, and Mr Craddock told him she had been having trouble with her nerves and they were glad to be quit of her. So you see!’
In a tone as firm as it was mild Miss Silver said,
‘I think I will go down to Deep End.’
He sat up with a jerk.
‘As mother’s help to Mrs Craddock?’
‘I think so.’
‘You will do nothing of the sort!’
‘Why should I not?’
‘Because it’s absurd—because I won’t have it! Because—’ Miss Silver coughed gently.
‘And since when have you dictated my movements, Frank?’
‘You can’t do it without me! The Wire won’t let you have that box number.’
He had the sensation of being looked through and through.
‘You are very heated, my dear Frank. What is behind it?’
‘There isn’t anything behind it. I just don’t want you to go there.’
‘And pray why not?’
‘It’s quite irrational—I just don’t want you to go—’
After a moment she said in her temperate way,
‘Either there is nothing behind Anna Ball’s disappearance, or there is something which requires investigation. In the former case, I should take an early opportunity of terminating the engagement. In the latter, I have undertaken an obligation towards Thomasina Elliot and I shall endeavour to discharge it. You cannot prevent me from going to Deep End. You can merely withhold the assistance which would make my task easier and safer.’
He threw out a hand.
‘All right—you win—you always do. But there’s something—I didn’t mean to tell you. On the face of it, it’s quite irrelevant, but—’
‘Yes, Frank?’
‘Eighteen months ago a young woman was found drowned between Deep End and Deeping. I told you the road flooded. Well, there’s a boggy bit of ground on either side of it. It was a very wet night, and the girl must have got off the road in the dark. There are some sizable pot-holes. She was found lying face downwards in one of them. Not the slightest indication of anything but a purely accidental death. She was mired up to her knees, and she had slipped and fallen forward into the pot-hole. You see, it’s all purely irrelevant.’
Miss Silver’s needles clicked.
‘But she was employed by the Craddocks? Is that what you were trying not to say?’
He gave her an exasperated look.
‘She came over by the day from Deeping. She had been doing it for some months. There was no suggestion of anything wrong. I didn’t think it would be fair to mention it.’
‘But you have mentioned it now.’
He said in a shame-faced way,
‘I don’t want you to go there.’
EIGHT
IT WAS ABOUT ten days later that Miss Silver went down to Deep End in the capacity of mother’s help to Mrs Craddock. There had been a short preliminary interview with Mr Craddock in the lounge of a private hotel, for which occasion the Jovian gentleman had discarded the belted blouse of Frank Abbott’s description for a suit of clerical grey in which he might very well have been taken for a clergyman of what used to be known as Broad Church views. He certainly had a very fine head of hair. For the rest, Mr Craddock would pass for a handsome man, with a fresh complexion and eyes of a shade between blue and grey. It was obvious that he considered himself to be a person of importance and expected to be treated as such. He had the deep resonant voice and assured manner of a man who is accustomed to having his utterances received with respect.
Miss Silver demeaned herself accordingly. She had no need to play a part. She had only to go back to her old self and be the modest, tactful governess.
On Mr Craddock’s side, he was able to congratulate himself upon her complete suitability. She was elderly, it was true, but elderly women who work for their living are often extremely tough and active, and if she obtained the post she would be anxious to keep it. He had had enough of girls—restless, emotional, always wanting something they couldn’t have. He expounded his views on the bringing up of children for twenty minutes, observed Miss Silver’s respectful attention with approval, and engaged her as mother’s help to Mrs Craddock at a salary of two pounds a week, subject to her references being satisfactory.
As she gave the names of Mrs Charles Moray and Mrs Garth Albany, Miss Silver found herself filled with the deepest gratitude. It might well have been that this was the kind of post which she would by now have had to accept. The lot of the ageing governess is not an enviable one. She had indeed much to be thankful for.
A few days later she was taking a familiar train journey to Ledlington, where she changed and embarked upon one of those branch lines which pursue their leisurely course through rural England. The nearest station to Deep End was Dedham, five miles away, where she found that a rickety taxi had been ordered to meet her. The afternoon being by now well advanced, and an early mist having turned to a weeping rain, the drive gave her no more idea of the scenery than that it appeared to be of a flat and agricultural nature. But as the rain increased, the road began to follow a downward course. They went over a hump-backed bridge, the hedges ceased, there was a boggy emptiness on either side. And then a slight rise, until they turned in between tall stone pillars and followed an overshadowed drive to what had once been Deepe House and was now, at Mr Craddock’s instance, Harmony. It was so nearly dark that Miss Silver could see nothing except a vague central mass flanked by two jutting wings.
The taxi drove into the courtyard and drew up at what had once been a side door opening from the right-hand wing. Miss Silver alighted, rang the bell, and paid her fare, after which the driver, who had not troubled to get out, started up the engine and rattled off down the drive.
Since Miss Silver, like Anna Ball, had not encumbered herself with too much luggage, she was not unduly disconcerted. Her two suit-cases stood beside her on the step. At a pinch she was prepared to carry them herself.
As she rang for the third time, there was the sound of a noisy rush, the door was flung back, and a cacophony of tooth-combs met her ear. It really seemed hardly possible that a combination of three children, three combs, and some toilet-paper could produce so much din. If there was a tune it was not discernible—the impact on the ear was just pure noise.
Miss Silver picked up her suit-cases, walked in, and found herself in an uncarpeted passage paved with stone and lighted only by a very low-powered bulb at the far end. Like shadows against this insufficient light there danced, shrieked, howled, and blew upon their combs, a long thin girl of twelve whom she knew to be Jennifer, and the two boys of seven and four who were Maurice and Benjy.
Miss Silver walked past them without paying any attention to their antics, upon which the performance on the combs passed into a loudly shrieked out ‘Dilly, dilly, dilly, come and be killed!’ But before there had been more than half a dozen repetitions of this rather sinister invitation a door on the left was flung open and Mr Craddock appeared, very Olympian in a belted blouse of white wool. In the dusk of the passage this was as much as could be seen, but as the children vanished with loud quacking noises and he ushered her into the room from which he had emerged, Miss Silver perceived that his costume was completed by corduroy trousers of a rich shade of crimson, and that the blouse itself was a work of art embroidered with a number of figures which she presently discerned to be the signs of the Zodiac.
The room into which they had come was warm and well lighted. There were book-lined walls, a large writing-table, thick curtains, and so
me comfortable chairs. A wood fire burned pleasantly on the wide, deep hearth. Advancing towards it, Miss Silver remarked upon its cheerful glow.
‘Really quite a chilly afternoon.’
Mr Craddock beamed.
‘There is no welcome like a fire,’ he said in the resonant voice which gave an air of importance to the words and an almost ecclesiastical flavour to a passing reference to the children’s noisy greeting. ‘Such high spirits. The privilege of youth.’
She was replying in a non-committal manner, when the door was opened and there came in a little woman carrying a loaded tray. The sound of scuttering footsteps suggested that it was one of the children who had opened the door.
Mr Craddock waved a majestic hand.
‘My wife, Mrs Craddock. Emily, this is Miss Silver who is going to be so kind as to help you. This is most opportune—she will be glad of some refreshment after her cold journey.’
He made no effort to help his wife, and she was too much encumbered to do more than murmur a few breathless and rather unintelligible words before setting down the heavy tray. Since there was no table ready to receive it, it had perforce to be accommodated on the writing-table, a circumstance which called forth a rebuke from Mr Craddock.
‘My dear Emily, would it not be as well to have the tea-table in readiness before you bring in the tray? A little forethought, my dear—a little forethought.’
If it did not occur to him that he might have exercised this forethought himself, it certainly did not occur to Mrs Craddock. A nervous start, an indistinguishable murmur of apology, and she was busying herself with dragging forward a gatelegged table and setting the tray on it. Her surprised, ‘Oh, thank you!’ as Miss Silver hastened to assist her showed how little she was accustomed to being helped. The tray was a great deal too heavy for so frail a person. Mr Craddock found Miss Silver regarding him in a manner so little suggestive of admiration as to cause him annoyance.
Looking back afterwards, she was to consider her first impressions of the Craddocks. That he was desirous of producing an effect, she was at once aware. There was nothing very strange about this. A man with a fine exterior and some natural advantages may readily be tempted to assume a part which he is not really qualified to play. To look like Jove does not imply a power to wield the thunder. As for Mrs Craddock, she was, as Frank Abbott had said, quite literally wrapped in the domestic overall, a garment of faded print which hung limply on her small, thin frame. She was very thin and a good deal bent. Her little pinched face was deeply lined. A pair of faded blue eyes looked nervously from her husband to Miss Silver, and then as a matter of habit back again to her husband. She admired him, she was afraid of him, she made haste to do his slightest bidding.
Death at the Deep End Page 5