She Came Back

by Patricia Wentworth

  “Are you threatening me?” Then, with the slightest of laughs, “There is really no need. And-it would be stupid too.”

  “You are confident that I should not be stupid? Thank you, Lady Jocelyn! But you would be wiser not to say such things again. They are liable to be misunderstood, and misunderstandings are always dangerous. I am willing to believe that you mean nothing when you say that you cannot go on-”

  She interrupted him, putting her hand up and leaning forward.

  “Wait-I want you to listen. You did misunderstand what I said. I would like you to listen while I explain. I told you I couldn’t go on because it was too dangerous. I didn’t mean that I was afraid-I meant there’s no chance of success. I don’t know what Philip brings home, but he keeps his case locked and his keys on a chain in his pocket. If he found me meddling with his papers, it would be all up. Don’t you see, I’m on my probation. In a way he believes in me because I told him things that convinced him, but underneath he holds back-he doesn’t really believe. If I gave him the slightest reason, he would break with me. I want to play for safety- let him get used to me, make him comfortable, make him need me, give him time to get over his fancy for Lyndall. After all, I’m what he fell in love with once, and why shouldn’t he do it again? And then-I’d be some use to you. If a man’s in love, there isn’t much you can’t get out of him.”

  She was aware of scrutiny, deep and prolonged. At last he said,

  “Six months’ delay, shall we say?”

  “Yes-yes!”

  “Six months whilst you dig yourself in-whilst you make Philip Jocelyn so comfortable that he falls in love with you?”

  “Yes!”

  “And during this six months everything stands still and waits for you?” He made a gesture with that clumsy gloved hand, moving it from left to right upon the table as if rubbing something out, and said “Quatsch!”

  The single vulgar German word was like a blow in the face. It has perhaps no equal in its gross finality. What he said was rubbish, but no other language has so rude a term for it. She knew then that she had made her throw and lost, but instead of being frightened she began to be angry. He had better not threaten her. There were things that she could do if she was put to it.

  He was watching her across the table. He said,

  “Let us talk sense. You will do what you are told, and you will go on doing it. The first thing you will do is this.” He pushed a little packet over to her. “You will take an impression of that key. You will be careful not to leave any of the wax sticking in the wards like the clumsy criminal of a detective story. You will do that tonight.”

  “I can’t-he has the key on him.”

  “He sleeps, doesn’t he? There are some tablets in that packet, as well as the wax. If you put two of them in his coffee, he will sleep very well tonight. Whilst you have the key you will open the case and photograph the papers. You have the camera. You need not be afraid-he won’t wake. Next morning you will go out shopping as soon as Jocelyn has left the flat. Half-way down the stairs you will meet a man coming up. Just before he reaches you he will stumble, missing the step and coming down on his knees. You will move to help him, and he will thank you and say, ‘It’s nothing. I’ve been hurt twice as much as that in the old 78th.’ Then you will drop your parcel with the films and the impressions and he will pick it up. You will go on and do your shopping.”

  Her anger had passed into determination. He was asking her to throw everything away. Because it wouldn’t come off- she had a clear conviction that it wouldn’t come off. She said so.

  “I can’t do it. It would just be throwing everything away. You don’t know Philip-I do. Under that manner he’s on a hair trigger. You can’t cover up from him. He sees things, and what he doesn’t see he feels. It isn’t enough to be careful of how you look and what you say-I have to be careful what I think. I can tell you it’s not easy when we’re there alone. If I were to go back and have all this on my mind, he’d know.”

  The tinted glasses caught the light again-just a gleam. He said,

  “I wonder if you convince me. I begin to wonder too why you know so much about Philip Jocelyn. And I wonder-yes, I wonder very much whether you have been foolish enough to fall in love with him.”

  “Of course not!”

  As soon as the words were out she knew that she had spoken too quickly. She heard her own voice, and the tone of it was wrong. It wouldn’t convince him-it wouldn’t convince anyone.

  He said, “So that is it? But you will go through with it all the same.”

  “No, it isn’t that. You’re wrong. I’m telling you the truth. It won’t do you any good if I try, and fail. If he finds me out, there will be no second chance-you know that. What good is it going to do you?”

  “Why should he find you out? What have you been doing- saying? What are you keeping back? If he is suspicious, what has given him these suspicions? Answer me at once!”

  She was sitting up straight now, her head a little drawn back as if to put a distance between them. He had taken her by surprise. Her thoughts ran all ways at once. “Why did I say that?… I didn’t say anything… What did I say?… If he thinks that Philip suspects, he won’t risk it-he’ll let me alone… I don’t know-perhaps he won’t-perhaps-I can’t think-”

  The voice which was just above a whisper came again, bleak as a crawling wind.

  “He suspects you?”

  Out of the turmoil of her thoughts she said,

  “I don’t know.”

  “Quite useless to lie to me. Something has made him suspect you.”

  “I don’t know-”

  The words seemed to come of themselves. She could find no others.

  “I said it was useless to lie. Something has happened. You will tell me what it is!”

  She thought, “If I let him beat me down now, it’s all up.”

  It was a thought, not words-an instinct which dragged courage from some deep place and put a smile on her lips and a different tone in her voice.

  “Please-please-you know, you are frightening me! But you are right-there has been something, and I don’t quite know. That is why I don’t want to do anything just now.”

  “What has happened?”

  She had herself in hand again. She went on easily.

  “Nothing really-one of those little things, but-well, you can judge for yourself. A girl came in to see me last night-one of my bridesmaids-the world’s fool. She began talking about the diary.”

  “What did she say?”

  She told him.

  “Said I put everything down in it-even the sort of things nobody would-like Pepys.” She laughed again. “She explained she didn’t mean anything against my moral character-giggled and asked Philip if I showed him what I wrote!”

  “And he?”

  “He looked at me-” Her voice went thin on the words.

  “How?”

  “I don’t know-”

  “He looked as if he suspected you?”

  Anger came up in her again.

  “I tell you I don’t know! If you go on asking me for ever, still I don’t know! But I say this is not a good time to make any move. That girl did something. I don’t know just what she did, but I could feel that she had done something to Philip’s mind. I can feel it focussed on me again like it was at the beginning. There-you wanted the truth, and you’ve got it! Is this the time to start anything? I leave it to you.”

  He said, “No-perhaps not. Why did you not tell me this at first? You wait until I drag it out of you. You say it is one of those little things-” he repeated the words-“one of those little things. You really think that, I suppose? You expect me to believe that to you it is a little thing? You hold it back for as long as you can, and then you only say it because you think it will turn me from what I have told you to do. And now I will tell you why you are using everything you have got to turn me. You find yourself very comfortable as Lady Jocelyn-you have a position, you have a great deal of money, and you ha
ve a husband who is a very rising young man. You have, in fact, got all you want. You have, in fact, no further incentive-you would like to sit back and enjoy these things. I would ask you to remember that you have not finished earning them. Those who provided you with these good things can also take them away. There is no more to be said. Now you will listen to me. You will hear no more from the police. They are now convinced that Nellie Collins met, as you have said, with an unfortunate accident. A woman who lives at Ruislip has come forward to say that she has known her for years, and that she has often invited her to come and see her. This is very satisfactory, as you will agree. The police will now be satisfied that anything Nellie Collins may have said in the train was just the result of a desire to be in the limelight, and that she was really going to see this friend of hers at Ruislip.”

  She looked at him, and saw no more than a dark bulky shape, a shock of hair, the just discernible gleam from the tinted glasses. Her voice slowed down as she said,

  “Do you think so?” And then, “You arranged it, I suppose.”

  He said, as he had said before,

  “That is not your business. Here are your orders. You will take the impression of the key as I told you. But you will not risk taking photographs unless you find the code. That must be copied or photographed-but if he has any suspicions, you will not find it. Where have you put the diary?”

  “It’s safely hidden.”

  “You had better put it in your bank.”

  “No-I must have it.”

  He did not press the point. Instead he said curtly,

  “You have your orders. See you carry them out!”

  There was a pause before she said,

  “I can’t do it.”

  CHAPTER 26

  She came out of the heated shop into cold, bright air. The dropping sun looked between two black clouds and washed the whole length of the street with gold. As she walked quickly away, it seemed to her that the path before her was all lit up. Her spirits were strangely high. She had held her own, and now that it was done it seemed an easy thing to do. She wondered that she had been so much afraid-that she had submitted to so much. After all, what could he do? To expose her would be to expose himself. Threats were a game that two could play. She had let him see that, and he had been quick to moderate his tone. She had come away without any orders on his side or any undertaking on hers. She had fought her battle and won it She had shown them that she was not to be used just as a tool. What she did she would do in her own time and in her own way-if she did anything at all. That would depend on Philip. Why, they must think her a fool to risk throwing away all that had been gained. She wasn’t that kind of fool, or any other. When you got what you had wanted all your life you didn’t risk it, you held it close. What she could do safely she would do. If there were a very good chance tonight, she might even get Mr. Felix his wax impression, but if she did it, it would be because she chose, and not under any orders of his.

  At the corner she turned. She lost the sun, but not her lighted mood. A half-formed thought emerged and took the light. Contemplating this thought, the outline of a plan began to form. Her pace slackened. She walked slowly, her attention all turned inwards. The darkening street, the cold, thin wind which slanted across it, were no longer there. She looked at the plan, and coveted it as she might have coveted a diamond necklace or a high-powered car. Like these, it was beyond her reach. But was it-was it? If she was a tool, it wouldn’t be the first time a tool had turned in the hand that used it. She began to consider very carefully whether the plan could be used. There would be some risk of course, but she stood in danger all the time. It would be worth some risk to get free and be safe. For a moment her heart sickened. Safety seemed so desperately far away.

  Then she went on. In the end she temporized. Leaham Street was not so far away. She had looked it up on the tape-map before she came out. She would go and have a look at Montague Mansions. No need to make up her mind whether she would go in or not. There was, perhaps, at the back of her thought some undefined idea that something might come along to point the way. She began to walk briskly in the direction of Leaham Street.

  Miss Silver sat knitting by the fire. She had finished Johnny’s second stocking and had begun a pair of socks for little Roger. Johnny’s other two pair of stockings could wait until she had knitted up this very nice wool. There was not enough of it for stockings, but it would come in very well indeed for little Roger’s socks and be a great help to Ethel, who really had not time to knit for her family. Three boys and a husband to cook, and clean, and wash, and mend for-three afternoons at a canteen-were enough and to spare for one pair of hands.

  As she knitted she went over in her mind her last conversation with Frank Abbott. Recollection of it made her shake her head. Chief Inspector Lamb was no doubt an experienced officer and a very estimable man, but that was not to say that she could always agree with his conclusions. By no means- oh dear me, no! In this particular instance she did not agree with them at all. She had told Frank Abbott so. But of course it was not her business-she was not professionally engaged upon the case. If the Chief Inspector was satisfied, there was no more to be said. He was, of course, a Man. Miss Silver had no dislike for the male sex. In their proper place they could be very useful indeed. She admired all their good qualities, and regarded their failings with indulgence. But occasionally she reflected, as she was doing now, that they were too much inclined to believe in their own opinions, and too much convinced that these opinions must be right. If Chief Inspector Lamb could believe that poor Miss Collins had merely met with a very sad accident whilst on her way to visit her old friend Mrs. Williams of Ruislip-if he could believe that she had missed her way and wandered into the dark lane where she was found, it was more than she herself could do. She did not care how respectable a person Mrs. Williams seemed to be, she did not for a moment believe that Miss Collins had had any intention of going to see her. She might have known Mrs. Williams, or she might not-upon this point Miss Silver kept an open mind. But on that Monday afternoon she had been going up to town with the intention of meeting Lady Jocelyn under the clock at Waterloo at a quarter to four. If it was not Lady Jocelyn whom she met there, it was someone who knew of the appointment and kept it in Lady Jocelyn’s place. Lady Jocelyn, it seemed, could not have kept it herself-the Chief Inspector expressed himself quite satisfied as to that. Miss Silver primmed her lips. She considered that he was too easily satisfied.

  It was at this point in her meditations that her attention was attracted by a sudden change in the light. It had been a singularly dark and cheerless day, but now quite suddenly the air outside was bright. With a slight regretful sigh Miss Silver put down her knitting and went over to the window. It was cheering to see the sun after so many gloomy days. The light came slanting down the turning opposite, a level beam of sunshine from where the sun was caught between two threatening clouds. No real sign of clearing up, she feared. Merely a transitory gleam, but pleasant-very pleasant.

  She remained at the window until it faded. Just as it did so, she saw a woman stop on the opposite pavement and look up. She wore a small fur-trimmed cap and a very handsome fur coat. Her hair was bright under the cap. Miss Silver looked at her, and immediately recognized Lady Jocelyn. Every paper had carried its print of Amory’s portrait. They were like her-very like her indeed.

  She stood there looking up as Miss Silver looked down, her smoothly tinted face without expression, her fine grey eyes steady under arched brows. She might have been looking at a view, or watching a chess problem. Then all at once she turned and went back along the way that she had come, walking easily and without hurry. Miss Silver watched her go.

  Anne Jocelyn went home and let herself into her flat. She felt gay and confident. The plan gave her a feeling of power. It was there at her hand to use or not to use. She might use it, or she might not-she hadn’t made up her mind. Meanwhile it gave her that sense of power.

  Some time after tea the telephone bell rang
. As she lifted the receiver she heard a slight cough. A woman’s voice said, “Lady Jocelyn?” She wondered who was ringing her up and said, “Yes.”

  “I think you will know my name. It is Silver-Miss Maud Silver.”

  “Why do you think I should know it?”

  There was that slight hortatory cough.

  “I think you came to see me this afternoon, or at least to see where I live. You did not come in. If you intended to do so, you changed your mind and went away… It was just as well.”

  “I really don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “I think you do. I have rung you up because there is something you ought to know. You were being followed.”

  Anne made no sound. She stood holding the receiver in a rigid hand until she could command her voice. Even then she kept it low. The low voice said,

  “I really don’t know what you mean.”

  Miss Silver coughed.

  “Lady Jocelyn, you would do well to listen to me. You came along Leaham Street this afternoon just before four o’clock. You stood on the pavement and looked across at Montague Mansions. I happened to be looking out of my sitting-room window, and I recognized you at once. Your resemblance to the Amory portrait is-remarkable.”

  Something in Anne said, “She knows-” and then, “How does she know?”

  Quietly and precisely Miss Silver continued. She might have been answering that unspoken thought.

  “I beg that you will listen to me, because I know great care was taken to prevent that unfortunate Miss Collins from reaching you. Has it not occurred to you that the same care might be taken to prevent you from reaching me?”

  “I really don’t know what you are talking about.” The repetition was by now a mechanical one. The voice was lifeless, the words without meaning.

  Miss Silver said, “I think you had the intention of coming to see me, but you could not make up your mind. In the end you decided against it. The person who was following you was a woman in a shabby brown coat with a brown and purple scarf tied over her head. Whilst you were waiting on the pavement she stood under the porch of one of the houses higher up. When you went back she turned with her face to the door as if she were waiting for someone to answer the bell. But when you had gone past she came down the steps again and followed you.”