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She looked from him to the portrait over the mantelpiece.
“Is that the late Mrs. Paradine?”
“It is-covered with diamonds.”
Miss Silver gazed earnestly at the portrait. Fair and placid, Clara Paradine looked down upon the room. Ruby velvet and the diamonds of her husband’s choice-a plump white neck and shoulders- fair hair of an even shade-blue eyes rather widely set under colourless brows-a kindly mien… Miss Silver considered her with attention, then turned again to Elliot.
“Was she English, Mr. Wray?”
He looked at her.
“What makes you ask that?”
“It is not quite an English type. I wondered whether she had been Dutch, or German.”
Elliot said, “German.”
“And her first husband, Mr. Ambrose?”
“Oh, English.”
After a slight pause Miss Silver dismissed the subject. She said, “Please go on with the rest of the party, Mr. Wray,” and saw him frown.
“Well, that’s very nearly the lot. You’ve seen Lydia Pe
“Very praiseworthy,” said Miss Silver in her most decorous voice. “May I ask how he was supporting his mother?”
“He was a jeweller’s assistant, I believe. His mother died, and Mr. Paradine brought him here as his secretary. He had mugged up shorthand and typing.”
“And was Mr. Paradine attached to him?”
Elliot laughed.
“Nobody could possibly be attached to Albert,” he said.
Chapter 26
Miss Silver dined with the family and afterwards sat with them in the crimson and gold drawing-room, which she admired very much. A grandly proportioned room-such warm colouring-such rich brocades-such a deep-piled carpet-the crystal chandeliers too, the finest of their kind. She approved Mr. Paradine’s taste, and sincerely regretted his demise. Now, all too probably, these handsome and dignified furnishings would be replaced by chintz or linen.
Di
He had been placed as far from Phyllida as the table would allow-Grace Paradine had seen to that. She had seen to it too that he had never had five minutes alone with her all day. And she was trying to hoof him out. All right, let her try. He had been dragged in, and now he was going to stay, and Grace Paradine could pull all the strings she liked. It was Mark’s house and not hers, and somehow he didn’t think she’d get Mark to the point of telling him to go.
His preoccupation with this theme kept him silent through the greater part of the meal. Not that he was remarkable in this-Frank Ambrose spoke exactly twice, and Mark could not be said to have spoken at all. The meal was too much yesterday’s party in caricature. Hashed turkey, fried plum-pudding, the empty place at the head of the table which nobody cared to take. A detective sitting with them to watch how they looked, spoke, ate, drank, thought. These things were not conducive to conversation. Even Dicky’s flow of talk had dried. Women have more social sense than men. Phyllida went on trying to talk to Frank on one side of her, and to Mark on the other, until it was so obviously useless to expect an answer that she gave it up. Lydia and Dicky exchanged a few low-toned remarks and then fell silent. Miss Paradine, at the foot of the table, was a dignified figure of grief. The long black dress with its high neck and falling sleeves enhanced the effect. There were dark shadows under her eyes, the line from brow to cheek had sharpened. There was no longer any anger in her look. Her eyes were sad. There was no resentment in her ma
Miss Silver, placed beside Albert Pearson, received the full benefit of his conversation. It took more than a murder in the house to inhibit his passion for imparting information. But she was to learn that it must be information of his own choosing. Having received a sketch of his early history from Mark Paradine, she attempted to engage him upon a topic with which he might be supposed to be particularly conversant.
She had herself an interest in curious and unusual jewels, but when she addressed a question upon the subject to Albert it met with no response. Instead she was favoured over the hashed turkey with a concise history of Birleton from Saxon times until the reign of Queen Elizabeth. The pudding afforded an opportunity of bringing the story up to date. The founding of the Paradine works by Benjamin Paradine- “grandfather of the late Mr. Paradine, and my own great-grandfather”-was interrupted by Miss Paradine giving the signal for the ladies to retire.
In the drawing-room Miss Silver found herself engaged by her hostess.
“I hope you have everything you want.”
“Indeed yes, Miss Paradine.”
“You must tell me if there is anything I can do.”
Miss Paradine was being very gracious. If there was a hint of condescension in her ma
“You are very good.”
About half an inch of the nether part of little Roger’s suit depended from three of the needles. Miss Silver inserted the fourth needle and began to knit with great swiftness and dexterity. After a slight hesitation Miss Paradine sat down in the opposite corner of the settee.
“We all hope so much that this terrible business may be cleared up as soon as possible.”
Miss Silver’s needles clicked.
“Oh, yes indeed.”