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.”
“She didn’t go away in it?”
“No – it was still very hot.”
“But if Pell had picked her up on his motor-bike, she would probably have put it on”
Lisle’s hands dropped from her cheek. It left a faint crimson mark upon the skin. She said in a wondering tone,
“Did he pick her up?”
“We don’t know,” March said. “He and his motor-bicycle were seen at Tane Head.”
He thought this was news to her. And he thought that Dale Jerningham appeared to confide more freely in his cousin than in his wife. He said,
“Yes, Pell was seen there. He rode his motor-bicycle away. But we haven’t found anyone who saw him with Cissie. Will you tell me how she talked of him?”
Lisle drew a soft breath.
“She didn’t say much – neither of us did. She said she was unhappy, and I asked her if she would like to go away for a bit. I’d heard of a place which I thought might suit her.”
“What did she say to that?”
The mark had faded from Lisle’s cheek. She was all white again.
“She said she couldn’t go away, because she would never see him again.” Cissie’s “And never no more-” rang in her head. She thought her voice would break under the words. She had to take others.
“Yes, Mrs. Jerningham?”
“I said something like what was the use of seeing him, and she said nothing was any use. And then she thanked me again for the coat and went away.”
“And that was all?”
“Yes, that was all.”
Inspector March sat back in his chair.
“Looking back on that conversation, Mrs. Jerningham, would you say that this girl was in a state of mind to commit suicide? You have said she was unhappy. There are a great many degrees of unhappiness. Do you think she was unhappy enough to take her own life?”
For the first time a little natural colour came into Lisle’s face. She said without hesitation whatever,
“Oh no – not when she was talking to me.”
March smiled involuntarily. It was just like seeing someone come alive – rather beautifully too. He said,
“You sound very sure about that. Will you tell me why?”
“Oh, yes – it was because of the coat. You could see she was really pleased. It didn’t suit her very well, but she was terribly pleased with it. We are about the same height and it fitted her. It was a very good coat. She knew that, and it pleased her. She hadn’t ever had anything like it before. All the time we were talking she had her hand on it. I could see her feeling the stuff. A girl who was going to kill herself wouldn’t do that – would she?”
“I don’t know,” said the Inspector. “She might have had a scene with Pell up there on the cliff and thrown herself over. Was she an excitable girl?”
Lisle shook her head.
“No, not a bit. She was the meek, obstinate sort. That’s what made it so difficult about Pell. Once she’d got an idea into her head you couldn’t get it out again. But she didn’t get excited – she just cried.”
“You knew her well?”
“Yes, very well. She used to come up here and sew for me.” Her voice changed and became unsteady on the last words. Cissie sewing – Cissie talking about Pell – Cissie crying – Cissie on the rocks at the foot of Tone Head-
As if he had read her thoughts. Inspector March said,
“Then she had talked to you before about Pell?”
“Oh, yes – quite a lot. We all thought he was courting her, and of course she thought so too. She was very fond of him. And then when she found out that he was married she came up here crying and told me all about it. She seemed afraid I should think it was her fault in some way, poor Cissie.”
“Did she ever say anything about taking her own life?”
“Oh, no. I don’t really think she was that sort of girl. She was gentle, you know, and quiet – not much about her – not very bright. She sewed very well, but she took a long time over it. I just can’t imagine her doing anything sudden, or violent, or impulsive. She wasn’t like that at all. If she had had a scene with Pell she would have sat down and cried about it quietly – she wouldn’t have thrown herself over a cliff.”
As she spoke she had the feeling that she was defending Cissie who was not there to defend herself. The effort brought colour to her cheeks and life into those wide dark, eyes. And then quite suddenly, there came the realisation that in defending Cissie she might be accusing Pell. All the strength seemed to drain out of her. A terrible thought came and went. She shut her eyes for a moment, and opened them to see the Inspector looking at her. He was leaning back in his chair. He said in his pleasant voice,
“Thank you, Mrs. Jerningham. Now, to come back to last night – you think Cissie went away soon after nine o’clock?”
“Yes.”
“And your husband and Lady Steyne had already gone when you got back to the terrace. Where was Mr. Rafe Jerningham?”
Lisle looked a little surprised.
“Oh, he was there.”
“Did you spend the evening together?”
“No, he went for a walk, and I went to bed. I was tired.”
He thought she looked tired now. The long, slim figure would have drooped if it had not been held erect. Its poise was the result of effort. The small fair head was carried with an involuntary pride. This was an ordeal, and she was confronting it with a young dignity as simple as it was touching. He said,
“I’m afraid this all very trying for you, Mrs. Jerningham, but I have finished now. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind asking Mr. Rafe Jerningham to come here for a moment. I shan’t have to keep him very long.”
Chapter 22
HE opened the door for her and watched her go. She walked slowly. A graceful creature, not over strong. No match at all for Lady Steyne. If she were happy she might be beautiful. No, that wasn’t the word – lovely. Yes, that was it – lovely, and sweet, and good.
She came up to Rafe Jerningham, gave him her message, and passed on.
Rafe looked after her as she went, and then took his casual way to the study.
Like Lisle, he gave the Inspector the sort of greeting he would have given to any acquaintance who had dropped in. Unlike the others, he did not sit down, but strolled to the jutting chimney breast, where he stood with his back to the hearth. Overhead, the portrait of the Jerningham who had been Lord Chief Justice of England frowned upon the scene. The crimson of the robes had gone away to the dull glow of a half extinguished fire, but the frown would endure while there was paint upon the canvas.
The Inspector, turning his chair to face the chimney-piece, met it full. The formidable brows beetled over dark eyes which were very like those of his descendants – more like Dale’s than Alicia Steyne’s or Rafe’s. But the brown skin was theirs, very marked against the grey wig. The hand grasping a parchment roll was Dale’s hand to the life.
Rafe, following the direction of the Inspector’s glance, said with a laugh,
“He was an awful old ruffian – hang you as soon as look at you. Good old days – weren’t they? You’d have been doing your job with a spot of rack and thumbscrew to get things going. Life’s gone all tame and soft – hasn’t it
?”
March smiled.
“I can get along without the thumbscrews. Actually, I don’t suppose you can tell me very much, except that I’d like to know what you thought of Pell when he was here in Mr. Jerningham’s employ.”
Rafe put his hands in his pockets. He stood easily, one foot on the stone kerb which guarded the hearth, the knee bent.
He said, “I don’t know that I thought of him at all. He didn’t come my way much – I’m one of the toiling millions. I do run a small car, but the other chap, Evans, does anything I don’t do myself. Pell just didn’t come my way. You’re not asking me what he looked like, I suppose?”
“I wouldn’t mind having that.” The Inspector was thinking that you don’t describe a man without giving away your opinion of him.
Rafe’s shoulder lifted.
“Short – wiry – tough – not the sort of chap you’d pick for a Don Juan. Very good at his job, I believe. Black hair, lightish eyes – tendency to spread grease and engine oil about. You know, that’s a very funny thing, the other man, Evans, could do the same job and come out comparatively spotless where Pell would be black all over. I couldn’t see why Cissie fell for him myself, but I suppose he smartened up a bit when he went courting.”
“What sort of temper had he?”
“He never showed any to me, but then as I say, I hadn’t much to do with him. Glum, silent sort of devil, but Dale always says he’s the best mechanic he ever came across.”
March said, “Thank you.” He didn’t think Rafe Jerningham had cottoned very much to his cousin’s pet mechanic. He said,
“Did you know the girl?”
“I’ve seen her off and on since she was a baby. I can’t say I knew her.”
“She didn’t talk to you about Pell?”
“Oh, no. I don’t think she talked to anyone except Lisle.”
“You were not on those terms. But you could hardly have known her for all those years without having your own opinion of her character. Would you say she was the sort of girl who might commit suicide if she was unhappy over a love affair?”
The shoulder lifted again.
“I shouldn’t like to say. I suppose anyone might commit suicide if they were pushed too far. I don’t know how far she was pushed.”
The twice repeated verb made its own impression on the Inspector. He said in his most serious voice,
“Will you give me your impression of the girl.”
Rafe frowned. There was a fleeting likeness to the ancestral Lord Chief Justice. He said with distaste in his voice,
“Oh, a long, thin dreep. No guts. The sort that whines and has a perpetual cold when it’s a child. But with a kind of obstinacy underneath – you know what I mean.”
“Would you expect that sort of girl to throw herself over a cliff?”
“The unexpected does sometimes happen,” said Rafe.
Inspector March agreed. He took up his notebook, laid it down again, and said,
“When you left Mrs. Jerningham last night it was to go for a walk. Can you tell me in what direction you went?”
Rafe removed his foot from the stone kerb and straightened up. With a careless movement he turned his wrist and took a glance at the watch which was strapped there. He said in rather an absentminded voice,
“Oh that – I went down and along the beach.”
“In which direction?”
“Oh, round the bay.”
“Did you go in the direction of Tane Head?”
Rafe smiled.
“I was forgetting you were a stranger here. If you walk far enough round the bay you get to Tane Head – in time.”
“How much time?” said March rather quickly.
“That,” said Rafe, still smiling, “would depend upon how fast you walked.”
“How long did it take you last night?”
“I’m afraid I didn’t get as far as that last night. I turned half way. It would have been too convenient if I had gone on, wouldn’t it? Eyewitness’s account of- well, I should have been in a position to say whether it was suicide or murder. Or perhaps not? As I don’t know exactly where Cissie fell, it’s quite possible that I mightn’t have been any use as a witness even if I had been on the spot. There are places where the cliff overhangs quite a piece.”
“Are you sure you were not there?” said March very directly.
Rafe Jerningham strolled over to the table and stood looking down at the Inspector with his quizzical smile.
“Oh, quite sure.”
March returned his look with a searching one.
“I should like to know how long it usually takes you to reach Tane Head from here.”
Rafe’s tone changed. He said in a perfectly simple manner,
“It is four miles by road – say ten minutes in a car, or on foot just over the hour if you’re a good walker. Two miles by the beach, and it takes me three-quarters of an hour.”
“Thank you – that is what I wanted to know. But last night you turned back half way?”
“About half way.”
“How was the light when you turned?”
“Good enough to see me home.”
“That would be about half past nine?”
“A little later than that – but I didn’t look at my watch.”
“Could you see the headland? Could you have seen if there was anyone up there?”
“Until I turned – oh, yes.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“Not a soul.”
“Or hear anything – either before you turned or afterwards?”
“I’m afraid not. Too bad, isn’t it? I’d have been such a convenient witness if I’d only gone on round the bay! But if you’d ever tried walking there after dark you’d know why I turned back.”
March said, “I see.” And then, “What time did you get in last night?”
Rafe took his hands out of his pockets. He picked up Dale’s ruler and balanced it.
“Oh, latish,” he said. “If I’d known it was going to matter, I’d have kept count of the time, but I’m afraid I didn’t. That’s the worst of things like murders and suicides, they drop on you without any warning. If I’d known that the unfortunate Cissie was going to be anything of the sort, I’d have kept an eye on the time, but as it was, I just dawdled along and finished up by sitting down by the sea wall until – well, that’s the bother, I don’t know when.”
“Midnight?” suggested the Inspector.
“It might have been,” said Rafe.
Chapter 23
LISLE went out into the garden. Beyond the tennis courts there was a shady place backed by the tall mixed hedge and flanked by old thorn trees. There was a seat against the hedge. She sat down there, leaned back, and let herself relax. She could see the sky, too full of light to be very blue, a grassy slope planted with rhododendron, azalea, syringa, lilac, and the white eucryphia shining like orange blossom in the sun. Lower down a few dark conifers, and hollies – gold, silver, and the old English green. A slender maple fluttered frail pink and white leaves. The air was still, but these translucent leaves were never still. Nothing else moved except the sea, glittering, brightening, changing with its own secret motion.
Lisle saw all these things as one sees things so accustomed that they are part of consciousness and are accepted without thought. Light, shade, sun, air, the scent of growing things in the sun – she opened her mind to them and let them stay there.
She fell into a light sleep, and woke to see Dale looking down at her. He stood between her and the sun. She thought it was his shadow that had waked her. When he moved the sunlight slanted in again between the branches of the old thorn tree. It was warm upon her arm and breast.
He moved, but did not sit down – just stood there frowning a little and looking at her as if there was something he wanted to say but he did not quite know how to begin.
Still not quite awake, she said, “What is it, Dale?” And then all at once the truce of sleep was over and she was broad a
wake and startled.
He said, “I want to talk to you. This is going to be a most unpleasant business. You’ve got to help.”
She looked at him, her eyes wide and soft, a little colour in her cheeks.
“What do you mean?”
He spoke with a kind of nervous irritation which made the words sound harsher than he meant them to be.
“For God’s sake, Lisle, wake up and be your age! I suppose you don’t want a lot of talk about this affair any more than I do. Where on earth have you been all day? I wanted to get hold of you before you saw March. What did he say to you? What did you tell him?”
She thought before she spoke. Why did she need to think? His temper flamed.
“What did you say?”
Even then she didn’t hurry. If he had known it, she was trying to steady her voice. It was not so very steady as she said,
“He just wanted to know what Cissie had said to me, and whether she was the sort of girl who might commit suicide if she was unhappy. I told him I didn’t think she was.”
“Was that all?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“And what makes you so sure that Cissie wouldn’t commit suicide?” His voice was rough with anger. “I should have thought she was just the sort of spineless creature-”
Lisle interrupted him.
“Oh, no – she wasn’t like that at all.”
“You’re very sure.”
“Yes, I am – because she was so pleased with the coat I gave her. That’s what I told the Inspector, and I think he quite saw it. If you’re not too unhappy to be pleased with a new coat, you’re not so unhappy that you’d throw yourself over a cliff.”
Dale’s face had changed suddenly. With a rough impulsive movement he flung himself down beside her and caught her hands in his.
“That damned coat! Why did you give it to her? Do you think I don’t keep seeing it – all smashed and stained? Your coat! Horrible!”
“Dale!”
He put her hands to his lips, bending his head down over them, holding them against his cheek, kissing them over and over again.
“Dale!”
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