The Clock Strikes Twelve

by Patricia Wentworth

  Phyllida’s lips parted. She took a quick breath, but she did not speak. Her eyes never moved from his face.

  He jerked with his shoulder and said, “All right-I’m coming to the rest of it. It didn’t happen for another three months. I met you, and I began to fall in love with you. After I came up here at the end of September I was pretty sure it was the real thing. I was rather walking on air. Then I bumped into Doris-the other girl. She was in a restaurant with a fellow I knew-not the same fellow. I went over and spoke to them. She was a bit tight, and she went for me tooth and nail-said I’d a nerve to come and speak to her after what I’d done to Maisie. I wanted to know what I’d done, and she said didn’t I know, and I said no I didn’t. After that she calmed down a bit and told me I’d better go and see for myself. So I did. She was paralysed-something gone wrong with her back after the accident. She didn’t feel it for a bit, then it went on getting worse. I asked her why she hadn’t let me know, and she said it wasn’t my fault and why should she. I told her she’d got a claim against my insurance and I’d fix it for her. I put a solicitor on to it, and she got her compensation. I went to see her once or twice. She was grateful and very plucky. She and Doris were living together. I went into it all with Doris. I arranged to pay part of the rent. Maisie hadn’t any people, and she wanted to stay where she was. She said the girls came in and out, and she’d rather die than go into a hospital. So I fixed it up with Doris.”

  Phyllida took another of those quick breaths. This time it carried a word.

  “Elliot-”

  He gave her a frowning look.

  “You see, Miss Paradine was perfectly right when she told you I was paying Maisie’s rent. She was perfectly right in saying that I went to see her after we got back from our honeymoon. I did. What I should like to know is how she found out.”

  Phyllida moistened her lips.

  “Mrs. Cranston wrote and told her-about the accident. She wrote when she knew we were going to be married. The letter was delayed-it didn’t arrive until we had gone away.”

  “Cranston? I remember-the woman at the house… Face like a horse-”

  Phyllida nodded.

  “She said she thought it was her duty. She’s like that. I used to put my tongue out behind her back when I was little, and feel dreadfully wicked about it afterwards in bed.”

  Elliot went on frowning.

  “Mrs. Cranston told her about the accident. Who told her I paid the rent, and went to see Maisie on Boxing Day? Did she hire a detective?”

  The colour ran up to the roots of Phyllida’s hair. She bent her head and heard Elliot laugh.

  “I thought so! Now, Phyl, stop blushing and listen! This is where you’ve got to have a look at things as they are. I’m afraid you’re not going to like it, but here it is. If Miss Paradine put a detective on to find out about Maisie he’d get her address from Mrs. Cranston-she was listening in all right whilst the policeman was taking our statements. Well, he couldn’t have found out about the rent and not have found out that Maisie was a cripple. If Miss Paradine hired him he’d have reported back to her. In plain words, Phyl, she knew she was telling you lies. She wanted to separate us, so she took a chance and hoped for the best. As it happened, nothing could have gone off better. You flattened out, and I played into her hands by banging out of the house. Then she watched for my letters and suppressed them, and topped it all up neatly by sending me a telegram to say you never wanted to see me again, or words to that effect. These things are quite easy to do if you mean to have your own way and don’t give a damn. She didn’t. She doesn’t. Miss Silver will tell you that she took my blue-prints, and she’s right-dead right. She’s got to have what she wants. She wants you. She’ll do anything to keep you, and to get rid of me.”

  The shamed flush had died away. She was as pale as she could be. She said,

  “Elliot-”

  “Look here, Phyl-did she ever suggest a divorce?”

  Phyllida shook her head.

  “Then don’t you see that proves it? She knew damned well that there was no evidence. Besides she wouldn’t want you free. You might marry someone else, and she wanted you all to herself.”

  “Elliot-please-”

  “Isn’t it true? You know it’s true!”

  She looked at him again.

  “Yes-”

  He took hold of her and pulled her up.

  “Well then-what about it? We can’t both have you. She’s made it that way. She’s taken everything and twisted it-it can’t be put back again. You’re either my wife or her daughter. It’s not your fault or mine that you can’t be both. It’s something she’s done herself.”

  “Elliot-”

  He gave that short angry laugh.

  “That’s not going to get us anywhere!” He let go of her and stepped back. “I could make you choose me. I know that, and you know it. But I’m not doing it-I’m not even touching you. You’ve got to choose for yourself. If you want time to think about it you can have all the time you want.”

  “I don’t want any time-” The words were just a murmur.

  “Well then, choose!”

  There was a silence. When it had lasted quite a long time, Phyllida said,

  “You sound so angry-”

  “I am angry.”

  Another silence. Then,

  “Is Maisie very pretty?”

  “No!” The word was jerked out impatiently.

  Phyllida said,

  “You look as if you hated me. Do you?”

  “Probably.” His face twitched. He reached out and pulled her into his arms. “Stop being such a damned fool, Phyl!”

  Chapter 37

  Miss Silver went briskly to the dining-room, where she found Lane laying the table for lunch. Her slight cough having attracted his attention, he straightened up and turned towards her.

  “Do you require anything, madam?”

  “Thank you, Lane, I should be glad if you would answer one or two questions. I think you are aware that Mr. Mark Paradine has asked me to enquire into the circumstances of his uncle’s death.”

  “Yes, madam.”

  “I should be glad to know what time it was when you took the tray of drinks into the study on Thursday night.”

  Lane looked worried.

  “I don’t know that I could say-not to be exact, madam. It was after the quarter to, but it was some way off ten o’clock, I should say.”

  “Would that be your usual time?”

  “No, madam. Ten o’clock was my time, but if Mr. Paradine wished for the tray earlier he would ring. On the Thursday night his bell went at a quarter to ten. I’d just come back from letting Mr. Ambrose and his party out, when Mrs. Lane told me that the bell had gone.”

  Miss Silver said, “Thank you.” And then, “Mr. Paradine was alone in the study when you went in with the tray?”

  “Why, no, madam.”

  Miss Silver looked brightly expectant.

  “Indeed? Pray, who was with him?”

  “Well, madam, it was Mr. Pearson. But I don’t want to give any wrong impression. He was just going into the room as I came through the baize door from the hall with my tray.”

  “And did he see you?”

  “I hardly think so. He was going into the study as I came through.”

  “Did he shut the door behind him?”

  “He had not time to do so, madam. He must have heard me coming before he could close the door.”

  “Did you hear him speak to Mr. Paradine, or Mr. Paradine speak to him?”

  The worried look became intensified.

  “I hardly like to say.”

  Miss Silver looked at him steadily.

  “You were with Mr. Paradine for a great many years?”

  “Yes, madam.”

  She said, “He was murdered.”

  Lane had been holding a cut-glass decanter in his hand. It shook. He set it down.

  Miss Silver went on speaking.

  “Innocent people are under suspici
on. There is one guilty person. I hope to find out who it is. Everyone in this house knows something that may help. If everyone will tell me what they know, those innocent people can be cleared. Was it Mr. Pearson who spoke, or Mr. Paradine?”

  He had turned a little away to put down the decanter. He remained like that, looking down. He said in a very low voice,

  “It was Mr. Paradine.”

  “Did you hear what he said?”

  “Yes, madam.”

  “Will you please tell me what you heard.”

  “Madam-”

  “Yes, Lane? It will be better if you will tell me.”

  He said, “Mr. Paradine said-well, madam, he said, ‘Hullo, Albert, have you come to confess?’ But if I may say so, I took it to be one of Mr. Paradine’s jokes. Being with him as long as I’ve been, I wouldn’t say that it was meant seriously. That was the way Mr. Paradine talked-he’d sound very angry, and be laughing at you all the time. I’ve told you what he said, but I wouldn’t like to think I’d given a wrong impression.”

  Miss Silver coughed.

  “You have not done so. How long did you remain in the study?”

  “No longer than it took me to set down the tray and retire.”

  “And where was Mr. Pearson whilst you were doing this?”

  “He stayed near the door, madam. If I may say so, he seemed to be rather upset, which I put down to his not being so well accustomed to Mr. Paradine as to relish his way of joking. I can remember being very much taken aback myself when I first come to the River House. Very unexpected, Mr. Paradine could be when you were not accustomed to his way of putting things.”

  Miss Silver smiled.

  “I can quite understand that. Perhaps it will make you feel easier to know that Mr. Paradine addressed a very similar remark to Mrs. Wray that evening.”

  Lane appeared to be very much relieved.

  “Then there would be no doubt about its being a joke, madam. Very fond indeed of Mrs. Wray, Mr. Paradine was.”

  Miss Silver nodded.

  “Well then, Lane, that was all? You came out of the study, leaving Mr. Pearson with Mr. Paradine?”

  “You may put it that way, madam. In point of fact Mr. Pearson left the room before me, but just as I was going out Mr. Paradine called him back. I could not avoid hearing what passed. He said, ‘Don’t post that letter to Lewis-I may want to alter it. I’ll see you about it some other time.’ And Mr. Pearson said goodnight and came out and shut the door.”

  Chapter 38

  Emerging from the dining-room, Miss Silver was aware of Mark Paradine on the stairs. He was coming down two steps at a time. He looked like a man driven hard on a road which is none of his choosing. Until Miss Silver pronounced his name, which she did very clearly, it is to be doubted whether he was aware of her presence. In the concentration of his mind upon its own bitter thoughts he might very well have brushed against her as he passed without noticing that she was there. But her “Mr. Mark-” halted him. He turned, looked vaguely in her direction for a moment, and came to.

  “Oh-Miss Silver! Did you want me?”

  “Just for a moment, if you will be so good.”

  After a brief pause of indecision, during which he was remembering painfully that the police were in the study, he opened the first door on the left-hand side of the hall and ushered her into the billiard room, an enormous room with half-drawn blinds and the hot, stuffy feeling of a heated place to which no fresh air has been admitted. Miss Silver thought it a very fine room, but she would have liked to open a window. This not being the moment for such digressions, she gave her whole attention to the matter in hand. But before she had time to speak Mark said in hard, flat tones,

  “Well-are they going to arrest me?”

  “Are you not rather jumping to conclusions?”

  “I think not. I don’t quite see how they can help it. The only question seems to be whether it will be before lunch or afterwards. My uncle’s solicitor, Mr. Harrison, is coming in to see the safe opened at half past two. I thought they might wait till then, though I really don’t know why they should. As far as I know, the only things he kept there were a few private papers and my aunt’s diamonds.” Miss Silver displayed interest. “The ones she is wearing in the portrait?” They had remained standing. Mark leaned against the near end of the billiard table, hands driven deep into his pockets. He nodded.

  “That’s it. Nobody’s worn them since she died. They ought to have been in the bank, but he liked having them handy. He used to take them out and look at them. I found him doing it one night, and he told me all about them-what he’d paid for them, how much they’d risen in value, and how well Aunt Clara had looked in them.”

  Miss Silver picked out the word value and repeated it with a slight monitory cough.

  “They must be of considerable value, Mr. Mark.”

  “I suppose they are-” His voice was wearily indifferent.

  Miss Silver coughed again.

  “To whom are they left?”

  “They are divided between my cousin Richard and myself.”

  Miss Silver appeared preoccupied. She said,

  “They will be valued for probate. Would you object to an earlier valuation?”

  “I? Why should I? I don’t take any interest one way or the other.”

  She hesitated very slightly.

  “Then you would have no objection to a valuer being present when the safe is opened?”

  She saw his face change. Eyes and mind seemed to focus upon her for the first time.

  “What for?” His voice had a startled sound.

  She said gravely,

  “Mr. Paradine was murdered. I am not yet sure of the motive behind the murder.”

  “I thought you said Elliot’s blue-prints had been taken.”

  “They were taken-and they were put back again. The only time that they could have been replaced was between nine and a quarter past. The only person who had an opportunity of replacing them was Miss Paradine. I conclude that it was she who took them. But I do not know whether she returned later and caused her brother’s death by pushing him over the parapet.”

  Mark’s hands came out of his pockets. He stood up straight.

  “What are you saying? What possible motive-”

  “She wished to make a complete breach with Mr. Wray. She expected this to follow upon the loss of the blue-prints. I imagine that it might very easily have done so. The thing she wishes most in the world is to prevent a reconciliation between Mr. and Mrs. Wray.”

  Mark looked at her in horror, but it was the horror, not of incredulity, but of most unwilling conviction. He got out a handkerchief, wiped a sweating brow, and said,

  “Did she-do it?”

  “I have told you that I do not know. She had a very strong motive-her brother knew what she had done. If he chose he could ruin her credit with the family. You are in a position to know what that would mean to her.”

  He said, “For God’s sake don’t! It’s too horrible. She couldn’t have done it!”

  Miss Silver glanced at him compassionately.

  “Then we must look for another motive in some other person. Will you tell me what Mr. Paradine said to you when you entered the study on Thursday night?”

  He appeared surprised, startled, relieved.

  “How do you mean?”

  “I want to know what he said when he saw you.”

  Mark frowned. A spark of comprehension came and went, a muscle twitched in his cheek. He said,

  “How do you know?”

  Miss Silver smiled.

  “He said the same thing to three other people who went to see him that night. I was curious to know whether he also said it to you. Now will you tell me what he said?”

  Mark went back a step. He took hold of the edge of the table above the corner pocket and gripped it hard.

  “He asked me if I had come to confess.”

  Miss Silver beamed.

  “That is just what I thought. He addressed t
he same remark to Mr. Pearson, and, separately, to Mr. and Mrs. Wray.”

  “Why?”

  Miss Silver coughed.

  “According to Mr. Wray, Mr. Paradine was enjoying the situation he had created. To a man of his ironical turn of mind there would be entertainment in watching the response to a question of this nature. He had just startled you all very much by saying that one of you had betrayed the family interests. He had in mind the theft of the blue-prints, but only one of those present would be aware of this. I believe that one to have been Miss Paradine. The rest could not know what he meant-they could only surmise. It is, unfortunately, true that most people have something to hide. There are privacies of the heart and mind. There are dilemmas, faults, failings, sins, which we would not willingly expose to view. Mr. Paradine’s accusation shocked more than the criminal into a hasty search of conduct and conscience. I wonder how many confessions were made on that Thursday night. I think you made one, did you not? I think it was very kindly received. But suppose, Mr. Mark, that one of the confessions he invited was of such a nature that it could not be made without ruin? Why, then we would have a second motive for the murder. That is what I meant when I said that we must ascertain whether there was anyone who had such a motive-anyone, that is, other than Miss Paradine. We know what her motive was. If she did not murder her brother, there must be someone else with a motive as strong or stronger. To find the murderer we must find that motive. It may not even exist-there may be no other motive. But the fact that these very valuable diamonds were kept in the house does suggest a possible motive. Since every possibility should be explored, I suggest that these jewels should be examined by a competent person. Do you happen to know whether there is a detailed list of them, and where Mr. Paradine would have been likely to keep it?”