“That won’t stop suspicion. Oh, Lucinda, I wish you were not involved in this!”
I felt sick and bemused.
My father said that the doctor’s opinion was that, as I had had a terrible shock, I should rest for a while in my room.
How could I rest? I could only think of Annabelinda entering that house…that strange, eerie, empty house, as it had become in my imagination, and meeting her assassin.
I wished I had been with her. How was I to know that she was going to be early? Why had she? Why had she told me to meet her there at two-thirty? What had made her go early? She must have had some message. And why? Because someone was lying in wait for her…to kill her.
The answer to that question was not long delayed. Mrs. Kelloway, Annabelinda’s housekeeper, was able to supply vital information.
Someone had called at the house during the day Annabelinda had met her death. He had seemed in a great hurry and said he came from Messrs. Partington & Pike about the house in Beconsdale Square. He had waited at the door and asked if Mrs. Kelloway would take a message to Mrs. Merrivale.
Mrs. Kelloway had invited him in, an offer which he declined.
“Excuse me,” he had said very politely. “But I am pressed for time.” He spoke in a funny way, she said. “Not quite natural. It might have been from another part of the country,” but it was not familiar to her. He had insisted on waiting at the door until she took the message, which was could Mrs. Merrivale be at the house half an hour earlier, at two o’clock. He had a quick call to make and he was going straight there. He had got a little hung up with his appointments and he was afraid he would not be able to spend as much time with Mrs. Merrivale as he would have liked to if she could not meet him at the earlier time. He just wanted to know if she could oblige.
“Mrs. Merrivale was at the top of the stairs when I called to her, and I told her what he had said. She said she’d be there. He said he was grateful, then he hurried off before she could get down the stairs. Mrs. Merrivale said there wasn’t time to let Miss Greenham know, but it would be all right. She would already be there when Miss Greenham arrived.”
Mrs. Kelloway had assumed great importance. She was proving of inestimable value to the police. She was the only one who had seen the man who had most likely murdered Annabelinda.
The house agents quickly confirmed that Mr. Partington was the man in charge of that particular house, that he was the only one from the firm who had arranged to meet Mrs. Merrivale and that the appointment was for two-thirty.
When pressed for a description of the man, Mrs. Kelloway again proved her worth. She could not say what age he was. He had a beard that covered over half of his face. He seemed young in a way, but the beard gave him a middle-aged look. But there was one important clue. He was holding some papers in his hand and as he was talking to her he dropped them.
She stooped to pick them up and so did he, and as he did so, she saw the fingers on his hand very clearly. There was something odd about them…something different. One of his fingers looked what she called “a bit funny.” It seemed as though part of one of them was missing.
How grateful they were to Mrs. Kelloway! She had become a celebrity overnight.
Soon the press was interviewing her. We had headlines: “Who Is the Mystery Man in the Case of the Empty House Murder?” “Police Seeking Man with Maimed Hand.”
“If Mrs. Kelloway was right about the deformed hand, it should make the search for the murderer easier,” said my father. “But why…why lure her there…to be killed? For what reason? Can you think of any, Lucinda? You knew her well.”
I wondered. I felt I could not uncover her devious past. I seemed to sense her beside me, begging me not to.
Suppose the story of her misdemeanor was brought to light now? What good could it do? Poor Marcus…and his proud family! They were suffering enough already.
What good would it do to tell?
Those were strange days. It was as though a pall hung over us. Aunt Belinda and Uncle Robert came to London. They were very subdued and sad; I had never seen Aunt Belinda like that before. Sir Robert looked bewildered. He loved his children dearly. I wished Robert would come home.
Sir Robert had aged in a few weeks, but it was Aunt Belinda who surprised me. My mother was very gentle with her and they spent a great deal of time together.
Annabelinda was never out of my thoughts. She had lived dangerously, of course, and these were dangerous times. But who could have wanted to lure her to an empty house to kill her?
I was in a dilemma. I could not get out of my mind that Annabelinda had been deeply worried just before her death. I had never seen her like that before. Of course, she had been terrified that Carl would insist on seeing her and possibly try to break up her marriage, but that was no reason for killing her.
I wondered whether I should tell my father or mother and ask advice. I had promised Annabelinda that I would tell no one. How could I break my word now?
I would lie awake at night…wondering.
I had thought that my mother should know who Edward’s parents were. After all, she was his guardian. I tried to convince myself that Annabelinda’s involvement with Carl had nothing whatever to do with her death. But why?
The days passed. We heard that the police were continuing with their inquiries. Mrs. Kelloway was questioned once more, but she had told all she knew. And the mysterious man with the beard and the maimed hand had not materialized.
I think they had begun to wonder whether he existed outside Mrs. Kelloway’s imagination. There was no doubt that she had enjoyed her temporary importance.
I saw Marcus alone when he came to the house to see my father, who was not just then at home.
There was a certain embarrassment between us.
“Oh, Marcus,” I said. “I am so deeply sorry. This is all quite terrible.”
He nodded. He had changed. He must have loved her dearly, I thought. This was more dreadful for him than for any of us. And if there really was to have been a child, it would be a double tragedy.
“How could it have happened, Lucinda?” he said. “You were in her confidence more than anyone else.”
I shook my head. “It is what they are trying to find out.”
“To what purpose? It won’t bring her back.” He looked at me ruefully. “They suspected me.”
“Not now…only just at first.”
“That’s so. I was with people all that day, so they had to eliminate me. Rather reluctantly though.”
“I’m relieved about that. It must have been dreadful for you.”
“Yes, it was.”
I thought of his family. How distressed they would be! They must never know that Edward was Annabelinda’s child. Nor must Marcus. He himself had had a secret family life, but he was arranging that in a manner which was presumably satisfactory to all concerned.
“Lucinda,” he said. “Let us meet sometime. This will all be cleared up one day.”
“Perhaps,” I said.
I was glad when my father came home.
So thus we continued, and the mystery of Annabelinda’s death seemed as far from being solved as it ever had.
Sometimes I walked along Beconsdale Road to the Square. I walked past the gate where I had stood with Mr. Partington and waited for Annabelinda. I glanced at the house. It certainly looked eerie. The shrubs were more overgrown than they had been. The place looked desolate, a house where a murder had taken place—a brutal, unexplained murder of a beautiful young woman by a man with a maimed hand.
Then one day we had a visitor.
When I came into the drawing room I saw him sitting there. I could not believe it. I had not seen him since before the war.
Jean Pascal Bourdon rose as I entered and, advancing toward me, took both my hands in his.
“Lucinda! Why, you are a young lady now…and a beautiful one at that!” He drew me to him and kissed me on both cheeks.
“I have wondered about you,” I stammered. �
��How…how did you get here?”
“With some difficulty…as was to be expected in wartime. But here I am and it is good to see you. These are terrible times.”
I nodded in agreement.
“This is a great blow. My granddaughter…such a beautiful, vital girl…”
I thought immediately of the adroit way in which he had extricated Annabelinda from her trouble.
“Is the Princesse with you?” I asked.
“Oh, no…no. It was not easy to get here. I have come alone.”
“And she is well?”
“As well as anyone can be in these circumstances. It is not a thing we like…to have an enemy on our land.”
“I understand the situation is getting better.”
“Perhaps. But until we have driven the lot of them out of our country we shall not be content.”
“You came because you have heard of Annabelinda?”
“I heard…yes. It is one reason why I have come. I wish to see your father. It may be that what I have to tell him may be of some importance.”
“He will be here soon.”
“Then we shall talk.”
“What happened to Madame Rochère?”
“Madame Rochère! That great spirit! She stayed as long as she dared. She would have dared further, but she is no fool. Indeed, she is one of the shrewdest ladies I know. There came a time for leaving. She is with us near Bordeaux.”
“And how do you manage there?”
He shrugged his shoulders and lifted his hands in a despairing gesture. “It is not good. But our day will come.”
“And the school?”
“The school became the enemy’s headquarters, I believe.”
“Will it ever be a school again?”
“Indeed it will. But not in your time, chérie. By that time you will have left your school days long behind.”
When my father arrived, he was delighted to see Jean Pascal.
“I heard you were coming,” he said.
“Ah. The news travels.”
“You did not tell me,” I said. “I should have been so glad to hear it.”
“Thank you,” said Jean Pascal, with a little bow. He has not changed at all, I thought.
“You must dine with us,” said my father. “And we will talk later. Is that in order? Or would you prefer to talk first?”
“I think it would be delightful to sit at the dinner table in a civilized manner. We have had the enemy at our gates for so long. The peace of this place is too enticing for me to resist. Let us eat and chat of happier times than those which have recently befallen us.”
So we dined together—just the three of us. Jean Pascal talked of the life in France—the dangers, the uncertainties—and the difficulties of getting to England. It was all of immense interest, but I had the impression that both he and my father were biding time before they discussed the really important matters that were the reason for his visit.
As soon as the meal was over, my father said, “I think we should go to my study.”
Jean Pascal nodded, and my father looked at me and then questioningly at Jean Pascal.
Jean Pascal said, “I think it is necessary that Mademoiselle Lucinda share our talk. I think she already knows more than you realize.”
My father looked surprised and I was overcome with a feverish desire to know the real reason for Jean Pascal’s visit.
When we arrived at the study and entered it, my father locked the door.
“Yes,” said Jean Pascal. “This must be very secret.”
“I guess,” said my father, “that you are very deep in things over there?”
“Ah, mon cher, there is a great deal going on. Do not think we calmly accept them on our soil. We are working against them all the time. And with some success, I may tell you. It is because of our discoveries that I am now in England. There are certain people here who we are very anxious to bring to their deserts.”
He took a large envelope out of his pocket and from it took a picture, which he put on the table.
“Do you know this man?” he asked my father.
I gasped, for I was looking at a picture of Carl Zimmerman.
I said his name aloud.
“No, no,” said Jean Pascal. “This man is Heinrich von Durrenstein. He is one of the best and most experienced spies the Germans have.”
“Carl Zimmerman!” said my father. “He was with the Swiss Embassy before the war broke out.”
“Certainly he was here in the Swiss Embassy. He did some very good work there. Not so good for the allies, of course. You know him then, Lucinda?”
“Yes. I first met him here in this house. He said he had lost his way.”
I told them how I had seen him outside the cubbyhole.
“I remember,” said my father. “We thought there had been a robbery. Papers were disturbed. That was before I had any suspicions of the real motive. He made it appear like a robbery. The jewelry we thought had been stolen was later found. It is all coming back to me.”
Jean Pascal nodded slowly; he turned to me. “And you saw him next…?”
“In the gardens of La Pinière.”
“He did a good job there. He reconnoitered, found all the weak spots in the surrounding country and arranged for the German army’s headquarters at the school.” He looked at me. “I think, Lucinda, your father has to know. He has to see the whole picture clearly. This is too important a matter for us to hide anything.”
He looked at my father and went on. “He managed to seduce my granddaughter at the same time as he was working so assiduously for his country.”
My father was aghast.
“There was a child,” said Jean Pascal calmly. “I arranged for the birth and for the child to be cared for afterward. His foster-parents were killed during the bombardment of Mons and Lucinda stepped in. She rescued the child and brought him here.”
“Edward!” said my father. “And you…Lucinda…?”
“Lucinda was noble. Lucinda was wonderful,” said Jean Pascal. “She brought my great-grandson out of danger. She knew who he was, you see. She was in my confidence. She had to be, because of the way everything had worked out. With the help of Marcus Merrivale, she brought him out of France.”
“This is fantastic,” said my father. “I can’t believe it.”
“Strange things happen…particularly in wartime…and all this brings us to where we stand today. Now, Lucinda, I want you to tell me exactly what happened when you made your journey across France. You acquired a nursemaid for the child, did you not?”
I told him how we had met Andrée and her brother, and how Andrée had accompanied us to England and had become Edward’s nurse.
He sat there nodding, and then he took more pictures from the envelope, which he was still holding. There were six in all and he showed us one of them. It was of Andrée.
I looked at it in amazement. Jean Pascal smiled at me. “This is Elsa Heine. At least I think that is the name to which she has most claim. She works in close contact with von Durrenstein.”
“It’s Andrée!” I cried. “Now I am sure that I saw Carl Zimmerman in the forest with her. She convinced me that he was a stranger asking the way. Edward had said that a man talked to them in the forest, and when I mentioned this to Andrée, she said—rather coyly—that it was Tom Gilroy, one of the men from the hospital who was interested in her. It all seemed plausible enough at the time.”
“They are clever, these people,” said Jean Pascal. “So adaptable. They have to carry out their duties with efficiency. They can become nursemaids or gardeners…whatever the occasion warrants.”
“But…Edward is so fond of her.”
“Of course. She is an excellent nursemaid, and a very clever young woman into the bargain. Let us think about her. She has frequently been in this house since you came back from France. What luck for her that you brought her in! It was what was intended, of course.”
“Her brother…”
“More of
him later. Let us consider your Andrée first.”
“I knew someone was getting into my room,” said my father. “We could not understand it. Mrs. Cherry was the only one with the key, until Lucinda had it.”
“The problem of a key to these people is quite a simple one. Clever Andrée would have managed to get a copy of that key very quickly. She would find some means of stealing it…long enough for her to do what she wanted. It explains how information leaked out. She had been systematically passing on what she was getting from this house.”
“How could we have been so stupid!” cried my father. “It is all so obvious.”
“Everything is obvious when one is aware of it,” said Jean Pascal. “So…we have the spy in the house. That was all arranged by the clever group. They worked well together. Now, my granddaughter’s death. It is involved in this, I am sure. Lucinda, my dear, you knew Annabelinda as well as anyone. Did she confide in you?”
“Yes, she did to a certain extent.”
“Then perhaps you can throw some light on this. The man she had known as Carl Zimmerman has returned to London. Did he try to see her, do you know?”
“Yes, and he wanted to see her again. She told me that he had threatened to tell her husband if she did not continue their affair.”
“The persistent lover! It is hard to believe von Durrenstein was that. The only thing he is ardent about is his work. He could not be so proficient at it if he allowed himself other interests. We have to look at it this way. Why did he come to see Annabelinda again? He was ardently in love with her? He had heard about the child and wanted to see him? That makes me smile. No. He came for a purpose. This could be useful. A husband in the War Office. Close friendship with this house. They already had Andrée installed here. But they could do with another to work for them. I’ll guess that he blackmailed Annabelinda, threatening her that if she did not help him in his work, which she was qualified to do because of her connections, he would expose her to her husband. Go on from there, please, Lucinda.”
I told them how uneasy she had been. “She was really distrait,” I said. “I have never seen her like that before…except on one occasion. I remember, we were in the garden and she was not well. She wanted to go and lie down. I said I would stay with her, but she did not want that. So she went into the house. She was most insistent that she should be left alone.”
Time for Silence Page 28