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“Yes, sir, he’s back.”
Dr. Lester nodded.
“Well, well, it’s a long time ago-quite a long time ago.”
CHAPTER 8
That same afternoon, coming out of the Holly Tree, Craig Lester observed a tall figure making a leisurely approach from the direction of Crewe House. No one had ever told him that Miss Crewe was a secluded invalid, but he had somehow received that impression. His visit to her room had not been repeated, though upon one pretext and another he had managed to see Rosamond and Je
After three days in Hazel Green Craig was aware that Mrs. Merridew, the late owner of Dalling Grange, resided there. “A very nice lady,” as Mrs. Stubbs informed him. “And a deal more comfortable at the White Cottage than she’d be at the Grange, which wants a regular staff to run it, and cold and draughty past belief. I worked there as kitchenmaid when I first went out-all stone passages and great big rooms that hadn’t been used for years, enough to break your heart. But she’s very comfortable here with Florrie going in to do for her every day.”
In the true spirit of village gossip Craig enquired, “And who is Florrie?” and received quite a flood of information about Florrie Hunt herself, her parents, now both deceased, and her other relations, of whom there appeared to be several in the neighbourhood.
“Mr. Hunt, he was second gardener at Dalling Grange. No ambition, that was what was wrong with him. All he wanted was to go on growing the vegetables same as he’d always done, and Florrie’s a chip off the same block. She’s a real good cook, and she could do a lot better for herself than going in daily like she does to Mrs. Merridew. But there, it takes all sorts to make a world, and the Hunts are all the same. Poor Maggie Bell now- her mother was a Hunt, and she was just such another. And then in the end off she goes and never a word out of her, which is a thing you couldn’t credit, not when you knew her. And if you ask me, she must have met with an accident or something, and nothing to tell anyone who she was.”
There was a lot more about Maggie Bell, and how the police had come into it but nothing found out. And then back to Mrs. Merridew again, and how nice for her to have an old schoolfellow to stay.
With this in the back of his mind, Craig Lester watched Miss Crewe go by. He had arrived at a rear view of her uncomfortably straight back, when Henry Cu
He saw what everyone in the village had seen during the last three years-what anyone in the village might see on any day of the week. He saw Henry Cu
CHAPTER 9
Mrs. Merridew turned from the window with a sound of dismay.
“Oh dear!” she said. “She has done it again! I can’t think how she can-so dreadfully awkward!” Then, as she encountered Miss Silver’s enquiring glance and heard Miss Crewe’s deep voice at the front door, she added hastily, “I will tell you afterwards, my dear,” and assumed the posture of one who has just risen from her chair to receive a guest.
The door was opened by Florrie, who herself remained unseen. Lydia Crewe came into the room. She had discarded her coat and appeared immensely tall and thin in the straight dark tweeds. There was a double string of pearls about her neck, and a valuable diamond brooch on the lapel. She did not exactly smile, but her face relaxed to a quite noticeable extent as she greeted her hostess and acknowledged the introduction which Mrs. Merridew at once proceeded to make.
“My old schoolfellow, Miss Silver. We only met again the other day after-well, we won’t say how many years. So pleasant, so very pleasant, to meet an old friend again, isn’t it?”
There was a slight pause before Miss Crewe said, “Not always.” It was borne in on Mrs. Merridew that a fatal propensity for saying the wrong thing had once more asserted itself. She hoped that Miss Crewe would not think she had meant in any way to refer to Henry Cu
“No, no-it all depends, doesn’t it? Especially when it is a case of relations. Poor Muriel now-” She turned in explanation to Miss Silver. “ Lady Muriel Street -an old friend and near neighbour. Mr. Street owns that big place Hoys just outside the village. I’m sure I sympathize very much with her. I met her yesterday, and she was telling me that she had relations of Mr. Street ’s to stay, and they seemed to find the country so dull. They have been accustomed to go abroad in the winter, and now that they can no longer afford it they find the English spring so very trying-the cold winds, and so much rain. And then, of course, they are not gardeners, which provides one with a constant interest, and they do not care for walking. And with petrol the price it is! Muriel is afraid they have been finding their stay very monotonous, and as she says, she would really rather not have had the house so full at the moment.”