“People do look at the sea,” said Miss Silver in a mild voice.
“Yes – but listen.” He leaned forward. “I’ve been over the ground. There are steps which lead from the sea wall to the beach. It’s two miles from there to the place where Cissie was found, and with the sort of going you get there it takes three-quarters of an hour to walk it. Rafe Jerningham put it at that, and that’s what it took me. But – and this is what he did not tell me – a quarter of a mile from the steps there’s a rough track from the beach to what they call the cliff path, and that’s a very different affair. It runs right along the edge of the cliffs to the headland, and though it’s no shorter than the beach way it’s a path with a good hard surface, and an active young fellow could run the distance in about half the time – and if Rafe Jerningham did that, he could have reached the spot from which Cissie fell in time to have pushed her over.”
“And why should he have pushed her over, my dear Randal?”
“I don’t know. That’s one of the maddening things about this case. Threats, motive, opportunity – everything right for Pell. And then you produce Dale as one red herring, and I produce Rafe as another. There’s your story – and the evidence of Mrs. Jerningham’s coat. And whether it’s evidence for a jury or not, it’s evidence for me, and it’s evidence I can’t get away from.”
“Did you find Rafe Jerningham’s prints on the coat?” said Miss Silver.
“Two of them,” said Marsh – “and the clearest of the whole blessed lot. And where, I ask you – where?”
“My dear Randal, it is no use asking me.”
He gave a short angry laugh.
“Then there really is something you don’t know! Well, I’ll tell you. On the right shoulder just below the top of the arm a complete print of Rafe Jerningham’s right hand, the palm towards the shoulder blade and the finger coming right round on to the sleeve. On the left side an equally clear impression of his left hand in an exactly similar position. If that doesn’t mean that he stood behind her and took her by the shoulders, what does it mean? And if he did that, for what other purpose did he do it than to push her over the cliff?”
Miss Silver sat with her hands folded upon her knitting.
“That,” she said, “is very interesting. But have you any idea of why he should want to push her over a cliff?”
The colour came up into March’s face, showing plainly under the fair skin.
“Oh, I’ve got ideas. What I haven’t got is evidence. Something may turn up, or it may not. He may have had half a dozen reasons, but the one I fancy is the same as in his cousin’s case. Just look at the thing as a whole for a moment. Don’t divide the Jerninghams up. Take them as a solid block – as a family. Every enquiry I’ve made points to their very strong attachment to this property which has belonged to them for hundreds of years. Dale is said to have spent his first wife’s money lavishly on improvements. He runs the estate himself, and works hard at it. Rafe contents himself with a modestly paid job at the local aircraft establishment because it keeps him at home. He refused a very much better post in Australia a couple of months ago. Lady Steyne, who had been married ten years, comes back here as soon as she is a widow. Her husband had a place and he left it to her, and a considerable fortune as well, but she comes back here. They stick to each other, these Jerninghams, and they stick to Tanfield. And Tanfield is slipping away from them. As soon as I had those prints I went over to see the old Superintendent at his home. He’s got a dicky leg but he can talk all right. He’s a Ledstock man and he knows about everyone in the district. He says the Jerninghams have always been like that. ‘Close woven yarn’ was his expression – touch one of them and you touch the lot. And this is what he told me. They’re on the rocks. The first Mis. Jerningham was an heiress, and the money all came to Dale. Most of what he didn’t spend on the property petered out in the depression, and there isn’t much left. These people talk very freely of their affairs, you know, and Mrs. Black had a cousin’s daughter in service up at Tanfield Court. Well, the sale of some land for the aircraft establishment and aerodrome tided them over for a bit, and six months ago Dale married again – another heiress. But the talk is that the money is tied up, and that Dale will have to sell. There’s a man called Tatham after it – soap-boiler or something of that sort. You say that Mrs. Jerningham told you she had just made a will in her husband’s favour. Considering the Jerninghams as a family block who will stand or fall together, would Rafe Jerningham have no motive for pushing his cousin’s wife over the cliff if he knew about that will? And do you suppose for a moment that he didn’t know about it? Add to this that he is Dale’s heir, and that Dale has another passion besides Tanfield – flying. I am told he is as keen as mustard and extremely reckless. Tanfield might need an heir at any time. Don’t you think that Rafe Jerningham has a pretty strong motive? People have done murder for a good deal less than that.”
“There is a motive, ” said Miss Silver. “But it would only influence a very unprincipled character. And I must confess, my dear Randal, that I think you are straining the probabilities when you contend that, granting a motive, Mr. Rafe had the opportunity of committing this murder. You say he talked with Mrs. Jerningham after she had seen Cissie Cole, and then went for a walk along the beach. According to your theory he got on to the cliff path and hurried to the headland, where, seeing Cissie Cole in Mrs. Jerningham’s coat, he took her in the failing light for his cousin’s wife and pushed her over the cliff. But why did he go to Tane Head at all, and why, having hurried there, should he think it possible that the person whom he saw could be Mrs. Jerningham whom he had just left at Tanfield Court?”
March ran his hand through his hair.
“I can’t tell you why he went there, because I don’t know. He may have been restless. He may, like Lady Steyne, have wanted to see the sunset, and he may have hurried because the light was failing. But it would have been perfectly possible for Mrs. Jerningham whom he left at Tanfield to have reached Tane Head before him. Her own car was out of action, but her husband’s car was there and so was Rafe’s. She also might have wanted to watch the sunset. But he wouldn’t think of all that. He’d see a familiar figure with its back to him outlined against the sunset. Cissie Cole was a tall, thin girl with fair hair. A back view of her in Mrs. Jerningham’s own coat might have deceived anyone. I believe it deceived Rafe Jerningham. I believe he came up behind her, took her by the shoulders, and threw her over the cliff, and came back as he went without anyone seeing him. There wasn’t anyone to see him except his cousins, Dale and Lady Steyne. If they did see him, do you suppose they would tell? And if that poor girl cried out and they heard her, do you suppose they’d tell that either? No – that’s what happened, but unless a witness drops from heaven there isn’t enough evidence to risk a sixpence on – nothing but those handprints on the shoulders of her coat.”
Miss Silver gazed at him.
“Did you ask Mrs. Jerningham who helped her on with her coat the last time she wore it?”
“Yes, I did,” said March in an exasperated tone – “and it was Rafe. But I swear those prints were not made then. They’re not in the right place, and they’re too fresh. You don’t put your hands round the top of a woman’s sleeve when you help her into a coat. And they’re too clear. They couldn’t have been made on Sunday. They’re the clearest of all the prints.”
“It’s certainly a very interesting case,” said Miss Silver.
Chapter 34
MISS SILVER was walking along the high street next day, when she saw Mrs. Dale Jerningham get out of a car and go into Ashley’s through the big swing door. The car, which was driven by Rafe Jerningham, moved on again at once and disappeared amongst the traffic. Miss Silver watched it go. She thought it turned down into Market Square, but she wasn’t sure. She followed the tall, slim figure in white and came up with it in the Ladies’ Outfitting.
“Good-morning, Mrs. Jerningham.”
Lisle turned from the counter, startled.
<
br /> “Miss Silver!”
“We do keep meeting, don’t we?” said Miss Silver affably.
Lisle said “Yes” in a rather shaken tone. They did keep on meeting – but it couldn’t mean anything – if it did mean anything, it would mean… She said, hurrying to get away from her own thoughts, “I’m getting a bathing-dress. Mine got torn -” And there her voice faltered and dropped.
Miss Silver gave her little cough.
“Ah, yes – that would be when you were nearly drowned, would it not? I remember you told me. But you did not tell me how it happened, or who saved you. You were bathing with your husband and his cousins, were you not?”
The elderly saleswoman brought a pile of stockinette bathing-dresses and put them down on the counter.
“Perhaps you wouldn’t mind looking these through, Mrs. Jerningham. We’re rather busy this morning.” She went away.
There was no one near them at that counter. Lisle picked up a cream jersey tunic and said,
“Oh, I think I made too much of it. I couldn’t have been in any real danger.”
“It is most alarming to get out of one’s depth,” said Miss Silver. “I think you mentioned that you were not a good swimmer.”
Lisle tried for a smile.
“Oh, not at all. And the others are so good. I went farther out than I meant to and could not get back, and they were laughing, and splashing, and ducking one another, so they didn’t hear me.” She looked at Miss Silver with wide, darkened eyes. “It’s rather horrid when you call and no one hears you.”
“But somebody did hear you,” said Miss Silver briskly.
Lisle’s golden brown lashes came down and hid her eyes. A bright colour showed in her cheeks and ebbed again. She said in a soft, confused voice,
“I don’t know – I don’t remember – it was just like drowning – I went down, you know.”
“Who saved you, Mrs. Jerningham?”
“There was a man bathing off the beach. People aren’t supposed to – the ground all belongs to Tanfield – but he had run his car on to the downs and come down by the cliff path. I don’t even know his name – nobody thought of asking him. But he heard me call and saw me go down, and swam out and brought me in. I was quite a long time coming round.” She stopped and went on again, stumbling over her words. “It – it was dreadful for my – husband and – the others to – to think of my being nearly drowned so – so close to them. Dale was – was dreadfully upset. And my bathing-dress got torn at the neck where the man caught hold of me, so – so I have to get another. I haven’t bathed since, but it’s no good putting it off, is it? The only way to get over being nervous about a thing is to go on and do it. Don’t you think so?”
“Sometimes,” said Miss Silver. “But I don’t think I should go out of my depth if I were you.”
Lisle said, “No.” And then, “Rafe said that too. But Dale is such a good swimmer that he wants me to try – Which of these shall I get? Do you like the cream? I have a cream rubber cap.”
“I shouldn’t go out of my depth,” said Miss Silver gravely. “Are you coming to see me, my dear?”
Lisle looked at her for a moment, and then looked away. The look held sadness, but no embarrassment.
“I don’t think I can.”
Miss Silver came nearer.
“I want to ask you a question. Will you believe that I have a serious reason for asking it, and not think me impertinent?”
Lisle raised her head and looked round quickly. They were alone at the counter. To the right the stocking counter was doing a brisk business. They were as much alone as if four solid walls had closed them in. She said in a young, warm voice,
“I should never think that.”
Miss Silver coughed.
“You told me you had made a will in your husband’s favour. I want to ask you whether there were any other substantial legacies.”
Lisle caught her breath. She had not expected this. Rafe… She repeated the name aloud.
“Rafe – there was one for Rafe.”
“Does he know that?”
“Yes – I told him-”
“A substantial legacy?”
“Twenty thousand pounds.”
Miss Silver leaned towards her and said in the lowest possible voice,
“Mrs. Jerningham – will you take my advice? Will you do something?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Ring up your solicitor – now, at once, from here. Tell him you are not satisfied with your will and you propose to make a new one. Tell him you wish the old one destroyed – now, at once. I do not know whether he will take such an instruction over the telephone. If he knows you well enough to be quite sure that it is you who are speaking, he may do so – it does not really very much matter. Instruct him to do it and ring off. Then go home and tell every member of your family what you have done. Make any excuse you like, but make it quite clear that you have given instructions to have your existing will destroyed. Go up to town as soon as you can and make sure that these instructions have been carried out. Make a provisional will leaving everything to some charity.”
Lisle did not look at her. She put out a hand and groped for Miss Silver’s hand. Her eyes were fixed upon the cream-coloured bathing-dress. She said,
“Why – why?”
“Don’t you know why? Come and see me, my dear.”
The fair head was very slightly shaken.
“I can’t do that.” The hand on Miss Silver’s wrist withdrew.
Miss Silver looked at her.
“Take my advice and do not go out of your depth.”
The saleswoman was coming back. “I’m out of it already,” said Lisle Jerningham in an extinguished voice.
Chapter 35
LISLE sat silent in the front of Rafe’s little car. He looked sideways at her when they were clear of the town and said,
“Why so pale and wan, honey-sweet? Didn’t the shopping go well? You didn’t tell me what you were going to buy.”
A brief colour came to the cheek across which his glance had travelled – came, and went again.
“I bought a bathing-dress. Mine got torn-”
He said, “Yes – so it did.”
She saw his left hand tighten on the wheel. The knuckles showed bone-white under the brown skin. He might have been remembering twenty minutes of as hot a day as this, with her body limp and cold in a torn bathing-dress, whilst he and Dale and a stranger laboured to make reluctant lungs breathe again.
He laughed suddenly.
“Messed it up properly, didn’t you?
Are you all set on going bathing again?”
“I shan’t go out of my depth.” She felt her cheeks burn, and said in a hurry, “Did I keep you waiting? I didn’t mean to. I – I met someone.”
“So did I – one always does. I hope yours was amusing. Mine was the last girl friend but three – or four – or even more – anyhow there she was, shamelessly buxom, with twins in a double perambulator. I must say I like my lost loves to show a decent melancholy when they run into me like that.”
Lisle could not help laughing. She got a look poignant with reproach.
“Do you know, she married a fat man who jobs stocks. As Tennyson says:
‘Oh, my Amy, mine no more!
Oh, the dreary, dreary moorland! Oh, the barren, barren shore!
Is it well to wish thee happy? – having known me – to decline
On a range of lower feelings and a narrower heart than mine?‘”
Lisle’s eyes danced.
“Perhaps she was afraid your heart was going to be too wide. She might have got lost in the crowd.”
He shook his head.
“I don’t go in for crowds. I’m highly selective, like the best wireless sets. Only one station at a time – no overlapping, no jamming, no atmospherics – perfect reception. Try our 1939 ten-valve super-het and be happy ever after! You’d think some would jump at it, wouldn’t you? But no – they go off and marry
butchers, and bakers, and candlestick-makers and have twins.”
“How many girls have there really been, Rafe?”
“I’ve lost count years ago. It’s the quest for the ideal, you know. I always hope I’m going to find it, but I never do. If a girl’s got one thing, she hasn’t got another. The odds are that the perfect complexion means a perfect circulation and a refrigerating plant instead of a heart, and if they dance like a dream they’re no good at soothing the brow when it’s wrung with pain and anguish. I don’t mind walking out with a hard-hearted Hannah, but I’m damned if I’m going to live with one – and that’s not swearing, it’s bed-rock fact, because I should probably get up in the night and cut her throat.”
Lisle shivered and said, “Don’t!”
“Don’t worry, darling, I’m not going to. My trouble is that I want too much – beauty, charm, delight, and all the moral virtues. And if anyone like that ever existed, someone else would have married her first.”
Lisle laughed a little and said,
“What about the girl friends? Perhaps they want an ideal too.”
“The girl friends are all right,” said Rafe. “As far as they are concerned, I am ideal to flirt with, but when it comes down to brass tacks they’re out for someone who can provide a much classier pram than it would run to with me. The female of the species is more practical than the male.”
“You are a fool, Rafe!”
“The fool died of a broken heart,” he said. His white teeth showed in a sudden grin. “I’ve made you laugh anyway. I had a bet with myself that I would – so I’ve won, and you owe me sixpence halfpenny.”
“What for?”
“Petrol, I expect. What are you going to do when my thumb is all right? I can’t keep it sprained much longer or there’ll be some harsh words flying. Dale won’t let you drive his car, will he?”
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