Rebecca

by Daphne Du Maurier

  I turned round when I heard the soft closing of the door. It was Mrs. Danvers. She had come back again with the diary in her hand.

  "I was right," she said quietly. "She had marked down the engagements as I said she would. Here they are on the date she died."

  She opened the diary, a small, red leather book. She gave it to Colonel Julyan. Once more he brought his spectacles from his case. There was a long pause while he glanced down the page. It seemed to me then that there was something about that particular moment, while he looked at the page of the diary, and we stood waiting, that frightened me more than anything that had happened that evening.

  I dug my nails in my hands. I could not look at Maxim. Surely Colonel Julyan must hear my heart beating and thumping in my breast?

  "Ah!" he said. His finger was in the middle of the page. Something is going to happen, I thought, something terrible is going to happen. "Yes," he said, "yes, here it is. Hair at twelve, as Mrs. Danvers said. And a cross beside it. She kept her appointment, then. Lunch at the club, and a cross beside that. What have we here, though? Baker, two o'clock. Who was Baker?" He looked at Maxim. Maxim shook his head. Then at Mrs. Danvers.

  "Baker?" repeated Mrs. Danvers. "She knew no one called Baker. I've never heard the name before."

  "Well, here it is," said Colonel Julyan, handing her the diary. "You can see for yourself, Baker. And she's put a great cross beside it as though she wanted to break the pencil. She evidently saw this Baker, whoever he may have been."

  Mrs. Danvers was staring at the name written in the diary, and the black cross beside it. "Baker," she said. "Baker."

  "I believe if we knew who Baker was we'd be getting to the bottom of the whole business," said Colonel Julyan. "She wasn't in the hands of moneylenders, was she?"

  Mrs. Danvers looked at him with scorn. "Mrs. de Winter?" she said.

  "Well, blackmailers perhaps?" said Colonel Julyan, with a glance at Favell.

  Mrs. Danvers shook her head. "Baker," she repeated. "Baker."

  "She had no enemy, no one who had ever threatened her, no one she was afraid of?"

  "Mrs. de Winter afraid?" said Mrs. Danvers. "She was afraid of nothing and no one. There was only one thing ever worried her, and that was the idea of getting old, of illness, of dying in her bed. She has said to me a score of times, 'When I go, Danny, I want to go quickly, like the snuffing out of a candle.' That used to be the only thing that consoled me, after she died. They say drowning is painless, don't they?"

  She looked searchingly at Colonel Julyan. He did not answer. He hesitated, tugging at his mustache. I saw him throw another glance at Maxim.

  "What the hell's the use of all this?" said Favell, coming forward. "We're streaking away from the point the whole bloody time. Who cares about this Baker fellow? What's he got to do with it? It was probably some damn merchant who sold stockings, or face cream. If he had been anyone important Danny here would know him. Rebecca had no secrets from Danny."

  But I was watching Mrs. Danvers. She had the book in her hands and was turning the leaves. Suddenly she gave an exclamation.

  "There's something here," she said, "right at the back among the telephone numbers. Baker. And there's a number beside it: 0488. But there is no exchange."

  "Brilliant Danny," said Favell: "becoming quite a sleuth in your old age, aren't you? But you're just twelve months too late. If you'd done this a year ago there might have been some use in it."

  "That's his number all right," said Colonel Julyan, "0488, and the name Baker beside it. Why didn't she put the exchange?"

  "Try every exchange in London," jeered Favell. "It will take you through the night but we don't mind. Max doesn't care if his telephone bill is a hundred pounds, do you, Max? You want to play for time, and so should I, if I were in your shoes."

  "There is a mark beside the number but it might mean anything," said Colonel Julyan; "take a look at it, Mrs. Danvers. Could it possibly be an M?"

  Mrs. Danvers took the diary in her hands again. "It might be," she said doubtfully. "It's not like her usual M but she may have scribbled it in a hurry. Yes, it might be M."

  "Mayfair 0488," said Favell; "what a genius, what a brain!"

  "Well?" said Maxim, lighting his first cigarette, "something had better be done about it. Frank? Go through and ask the exchange for Mayfair 0488."

  The nagging pain was strong beneath my heart. I stood quite still, my hands by my side. Maxim did not look at me.

  "Go on, Frank," he said. "What are you waiting for?"

  Frank went through to the little room beyond. We waited while he called the exchange. In a moment he was back again. "They're going to ring me," he said quietly. Colonel Julyan clasped his hands behind his back and began walking up and down the room. No one said anything. After about four minutes the telephone rang shrill and insistent, that irritating, monotonous note of a long-distance call. Frank went through to answer it. "Is that Mayfair 0488?" he said. "Can you tell me if anyone of the name of Baker lives there? Oh, I see. I'm so sorry. Yes, I must have got the wrong number. Thank you very much."

  The little click as he replaced the receiver. Then he came back into the room. "Someone called Lady Eastleigh lives at Mayfair 0488. It's an address in Grosvenor Street. They've never heard of Baker."

  Favell gave a great cackle of laughter. "The butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker, they all jumped out of a rotten potato," he said. "Carry on, detective Number One, what's the next exchange on the list?"

  "Try Museum," said Mrs. Danvers.

  Frank glanced at Maxim. "Go ahead," said Maxim.

  The farce was repeated all over again. Colonel Julyan repeated his walk up and down the room. Another five minutes went by, and the telephone rang again. Frank went to answer it. He left the door wide open, I could see him lean down to the table where the telephone stood, and bend to the mouthpiece.

  "Hullo? Is that Museum 0488? Can you tell me if anyone of the name of Baker lives there? Oh; who is that speaking? A night porter. Yes. Yes, I understand. Not offices. No, no of course. Can you give me the address? Yes, it's rather important." He paused. He called to us over his shoulder. "I think we've got him," he said.

  Oh, God, don't let it be true. Don't let Baker be found. Please God make Baker be dead. I knew who Baker was. I had known all along. I watched Frank through the door, I watched him lean forward suddenly, reach for a pencil and a piece of paper. "Hullo? Yes, I'm still here. Could you spell it? Thank you. Thank you very much. Good night." He came back into the room, the piece of paper in his hands. Frank who loved Maxim, who did not know that the piece of paper he held was the one shred of evidence that was worth a damn in the whole nightmare of our evening, and that by producing it he could destroy Maxim as well and truly as though he had a dagger in his hand and stabbed him in the back.

  "It was the night porter from an address in Bloomsbury," he said. "There are no residents there at all. The place is used during the day as a doctor's consulting rooms. Apparently Baker's given up practice, and left six months ago. But we can get hold of him all right. The night porter gave me his address. I wrote it down on this piece of paper."

  25

  It was then that Maxim looked at me. He looked at me for the first time that evening. And in his eyes I read a message of farewell. It was as though he leaned against the side of a ship, and I stood below him on the quay. There would be other people touching his shoulder, and touching mine, but we would not see them. Nor would we speak or call to one another, for the wind and the distance would carry away the sound of our voices. But I should see his eyes and he would see mine before the ship drew away from the side of the quay. Favell, Mrs. Danvers, Colonel Julyan, Frank with the slip of paper in his hands, they were all forgotten at this moment. It was ours, inviolate, a fraction of time suspended between two seconds. And then he turned away and held out his hand to Frank.

  "Well done," he said. "What's the address?"

  "Somewhere near Barnet, north of London," said Frank, g
iving him the paper. "But it's not on the telephone. We can't ring him up."

  "Satisfactory work, Crawley," said Colonel Julyan, "and from you too, Mrs. Danvers. Can you throw any light on the matter now?"

  Mrs. Danvers shook her head. "Mrs. de Winter never needed a doctor. Like all strong people she despised them. We only had Doctor Phillips from Kerrith here once, that time she sprained her wrist. I've never heard her speak of this Doctor Baker, she never mentioned his name to me."

  "I tell you the fellow was a face cream mixer," said Favell. "What the hell does it matter who he was? If there was anything to it Danny would know. I tell you it's some fool fellow who had discovered a new way of bleaching the hair or whitening the skin, and Rebecca had probably got the address from her hairdresser that morning and went along after lunch out of curiosity."

  "No," said Frank. "I think you're wrong there. Baker wasn't a quack. The night porter at Museum 0488 told me he was a very well-known woman's specialist."

  "H'm," said Colonel Julyan, pulling at his mustache, "there must have been something wrong with her after all. It seems very curious that she did not say a word to anybody, not even to you, Mrs. Danvers."

  "She was too thin," said Favell. "I told her about it, but she only laughed. Said it suited her. Banting I suppose, like all these women. Perhaps she went to this chap Baker for a diet sheet."

  "Do you think that's possible, Mrs. Danvers?" asked Colonel Julyan.

  Mrs. Danvers shook her head slowly. She seemed dazed, bewildered by this sudden news about Baker. "I can't understand it," she said. "I don't know what it means. Baker. A Doctor Baker. Why didn't she tell me? Why did she keep it from me? She told me everything."

  "Perhaps she didn't want to worry you," said Colonel Julyan. "No doubt she made an appointment with him, and saw him, and then when she came down that night she was going to have told you all about it."

  "And the note to Mr. Jack," said Mrs. Danvers suddenly. "That note to Mr. Jack, 'I have something to tell you. I must see you'; she was going to tell him too?"

  "That's true," said Favell slowly. "We were forgetting the note." Once more he pulled it out of his pocket and read it to us aloud. " 'I've got something to tell you, and I want to see you as soon as possible. Rebecca.' "

  "Of course, there's no doubt about it," said Colonel Julyan, turning to Maxim. "I wouldn't mind betting a thousand pounds on it. She was going to tell Favell the result of that interview with this Doctor Baker."

  "I believe you're right after all," said Favell. "The note and that appointment seem to hang together. But what the hell was it all about, that's what I want to know? What was the matter with her?"

  The truth screamed in their faces and they did not see. They all stood there, staring at one another, and they did not understand. I dared not look at them. I dared not move lest I betray my knowledge. Maxim said nothing. He had gone back to the window and was looking out into the garden that was hushed and dark and still. The rain had ceased at last, but the spots fell from the dripping leaves and from the gutter above the window.

  "It ought to be quite easy to verify," said Frank. "Here is the doctor's present address. I can write him a letter and ask him if he remembers an appointment last year with Mrs. de Winter."

  "I don't know if he would take any notice of it," said Colonel Julyan, "there is so much of this etiquette in the medical profession. Every case is confidential, you know. The only way to get anything out of him would be to get de Winter to see him privately and explain the circumstances. What do you say, de Winter?"

  Maxim turned round from the window. "I'm ready to do whatever you care to suggest," he said quietly.

  "Anything for time, eh?" said Favell; "a lot can be done in twenty-four hours, can't it? Trains can be caught, ships can sail, aeroplanes can fly."

  I saw Mrs. Danvers look sharply from Favell to Maxim, and I realized then, for the first time, that Mrs. Danvers had not known about Favell's accusation. At last she was beginning to understand. I could tell from the expression on her face. There was doubt written on it, then wonder and hatred mixed, and then conviction. Once again those lean long hands of hers clutched convulsively at her dress, and she passed her tongue over her lips. She went on staring at Maxim. She never took her eyes away from Maxim. It's too late, I thought, she can't do anything to us now, the harm is done. It does not matter what she says to us now, or what she does. The harm is done. She can't hurt us anymore. Maxim did not notice her, or if he did he gave no sign. He was talking to Colonel Julyan.

  "What do you suggest?" he said. "Shall I go up in the morning, drive to this address at Barnet? I can wire Baker to expect me."

  "He's not going alone," said Favell, with a short laugh. "I have a right to insist on that, haven't I? Send him up with Inspector Welch and I won't object."

  If only Mrs. Danvers would take her eyes away from Maxim. Frank had seen her now. He was watching her, puzzled, anxious. I saw him glance once more at the slip of paper in his hands, on which he had written Doctor Baker's address. Then he too glanced at Maxim. I believe then that some faint idea of the truth began to force itself to his conscience, for he went very white and put the paper down on the table.

  "I don't think there is any necessity to bring Inspector Welch into the affair--yet," said Colonel Julyan. His voice was different, harder. I did not like the way he used the word "yet." Why must he use it at all? I did not like it. "If I go with de Winter, and stay with him the whole time, and bring him back, will that satisfy you?" he said.

  Favell looked at Maxim, and then at Colonel Julyan. The expression on his face was ugly, calculating, and there was something of triumph too in his light blue eyes. "Yes," he said slowly, "yes, I suppose so. But for safety's sake do you mind if I come with you too?"

  "No," said Colonel Julyan, "unfortunately I think you have the right to ask that. But if you do come, I have the right to insist on your being sober."

  "You needn't worry about that," said Favell, beginning to smile; "I'll be sober all right. Sober as the judge will be when he sentences Max in three months' time. I rather think this Doctor Baker is going to prove my case, after all."

  He looked around at each one of us and began to laugh. I think he too had understood at last the significance of that visit to the doctor.

  "Well," he said, "what time are we going to start in the morning?"

  Colonel Julyan looked at Maxim. "How early can you be ready?"

  "Anytime you say," said Maxim.

  "Nine o'clock?"

  "Nine o'clock," said Maxim.

  "How do we know he won't do a bolt in the night?" said Favell. "He's only to cut round to the garage and get his car."

  "Is my word enough for you?" said Maxim, turning to Colonel Julyan. And for the first time Colonel Julyan hesitated. I saw him glance at Frank. And a flush came over Maxim's face. I saw the little pulse beating on his forehead. "Mrs. Danvers," he said slowly, "when Mrs. de Winter and I go to bed tonight will you come up yourself and lock the door on the outside? And call us yourself, at seven in the morning?"

  "Yes, sir," said Mrs. Danvers. Still she kept her eyes on him, still her hands clutched at her dress.

  "Very well, then," said Colonel Julyan brusquely. "I don't think there is anything else we need discuss, tonight. I shall be here sharp at nine in the morning. You will have room for me in your car, de Winter?"

  "Yes," said Maxim.

  "And Favell will follow us in his?"

  "Right on your tail, my dear fellow, right on your tail," said Favell.

  Colonel Julyan came up to me and took my hand. "Good night," he said. "You know how I feel for you in all this, there's no need for me to tell you. Get your husband to bed early, if you can. It's going to be a long day." He held my hand a minute and then he turned away. It was curious how he avoided my eye. He looked at my chin. Frank held the door for him as he went out. Favell leaned forward and filled his case with cigarettes from the box on the table.

  "I suppose I'm not going to be
asked to stop to dinner?" he said.

  Nobody answered. He lit one of the cigarettes, and blew a cloud of smoke into the air. "It means a quiet evening at the pub on the highroad then," he said, "and the barmaid has a squint. What a hell of a night I'm going to spend! Never mind, I'm looking forward to tomorrow. Good night, Danny old lady, don't forget to turn the key on Mr. de Winter, will you?"

  He came over to me and held out his hand.

  Like a foolish child I put my hands behind my back. He laughed, and bowed.

  "It's just too bad, isn't it?" he said. "A nasty man like me coming and spoiling all your fun. Don't worry, it will be a great thrill for you when the yellow Press gets going with your life story, and you see the headlines 'From Monte Carlo to Manderley. Experiences of murderer's girl-bride,' written across the top. Better luck next time."

  He strolled across the room to the door, waving his hand to Maxim by the window. "So long, old man," he said, "pleasant dreams. Make the most of your night behind that locked door." He turned and laughed at me, and then he went out of the room. Mrs. Danvers followed him. Maxim and I were alone. He went on standing by the window. He did not come to me. Jasper came trotting in from the hall. He had been shut outside all the evening. He came fussing up to me, biting the edge of my skirt.

  "I'm coming with you in the morning," I said to Maxim. "I'm coming up to London with you in the car."

  He did not answer for a moment. He went on looking out of the window. Then "Yes," he said, his voice without expression. "Yes, we must go on being together."

  Frank came back into the room. He stood in the entrance, his hand on the door. "They've gone," he said, "Favell and Colonel Julyan, I watched them go."

  "All right, Frank," said Maxim.

  "Is there anything I can do?" said Frank, "anything at all? Wire to anyone, arrange anything? I'll stay up all night if only there's anything I can do. I'll get that wire off to Baker of course."