Through The Wall

The ground floor of the next-door house was dark on this side, as it had been on the other. Over the parlour she could see that Felix Brand’s window was open and the room quite dark. But in the room next to hers, which was Florence Brand’s, just on the other side of the dividing wall, though the casement window stood wide, there was a light behind the chintz curtains, throwing up a rather heavy pattern of red and purple rhododendrons. Miss Silver had not been in the house for two days without hearing all about those curtains. There had been good thick ones with linings, ageing a little in ’39, when of course owing to the outbreak of war it had not been possible to replace them. Seven years later, when they actually fell to pieces, the best that could be achieved was a chintz, and linings were not to be thought of.

As she leaned from the window and became aware of voices from behind the rhododendrons she reflected that this was indeed a fortunate circumstance. Lined damask curtains such as had once obscured the light and prevented the air from entering Mrs. Brand’s room would have had a sadly deadening effect upon sound. As a gentle-woman, Miss Silver would not have dreamed of listening to a private conversation. As a private investigator, she had often conceived it her duty to do so. She was very near that open window. The chintz, although so darkly patterned, presented hardly any obstacle to sound. The voices were those of Mrs. Alfred Brand and her sister. Miss Silver conceived it her duty to listen.

She was not the only person to do so. Pe

She latched the door and stood for a moment looking at the scrawled, untidy sheets with which the piano top was strewn. The room was full of Felix. He might have been standing there beside her. She came away no more than a minute or two before Miss Silver looked out of Ina Felton’s window and found the drawing-room dark.

Pe

The light-switch was over by the bedroom door. It ought, of course, to have been at the head of the stairs, but Florence Brand’s motto was, and always had been, “Put it near me and it will be quite convenient for everyone.” There had been raging rows about that light-switch. Pe

As Pe

“I shall say Felix did it.”

Chapter 39

The hand which Pe

Florence Brand made a sound of some kind. Cassy Remington’s voice went higher.

“I shall say he did it, and the police will take him away, and then we shall have a little peace.”

This time Florence spoke. Her voice had the same sound as before, an odd heavy tone that might have been disapproval. She said,

“They don’t believe everything you tell them.”

Cassy laughed angrily.

“They’ll believe this. Because it’s only reasonable. Who else had any reason to kill Helen Adrian-answer me that! You can’t, can you? Nobody can. He was crazy about her-crazy with jealousy. He saw the light on that blue and yellow scarf she was wearing over her head, and he followed her down to the terrace and pushed her over the edge after Cyril Felton had come in. And then of course Cyril guessed and tried to blackmail him, and he killed him too.”

Florence Brand said,

“How do you know?”

There was that high, excited laugh again.

“I saw him come in at the gate.”

“When did you see him?”

“I was looking for Pe

“And did you?”

“Really, Florence -what a thing to say! Of course I did!”

“He didn’t come in till after the police got here.”

Cassy Remington said with enjoyment,

“Oh, yes, he did. I looked out of the window, and I saw him. He came in at twenty to five. I saw him, but he didn’t see me, because I stood behind the curtain.”

Florence Brand said slowly,

“He couldn’t have got here. Pe

“And you believe her! She would lie her head off for Felix, and you know it! Besides, her watch might be wrong, or anything. And he could have run after her and got here very nearly as soon as she did, couldn’t he? The police won’t take any notice of what Pe

There was a sound in the room as if Florence Brand was getting to her feet with one of her ponderous movements. Pe

“You had better be careful, Cassy. You had better sleep on it. I don’t think-”

“You never do,” said Cassy Remington in a spiteful voice. “You haven’t enough brain, and you are too indolent. But you had better do what you can to back me up. They’ve taken that dress of yours away, you know, and when they find there’s a bloodstain all down the front-”

Florence Brand said, “A bloodstain!” Her voice had a shocked sound. Then she seemed to pull herself together.

“Really, Cassy, I don’t know what you are thinking about! You know as well as I do that it was the juice out of the tart at lunch.”

“Are you sure about that? Are you really quite sure? I wouldn’t be too sure if I were you.”

“You were there-you saw me spill the juice.”

“Did I? Do you know, I wouldn’t like to have to swear to it.”

“Pe

“I don’t think we need bother about Pe

“It was fruit juice. They can tell that by testing it.”

Cassy laughed, high up and shrill.

“Oh, my dear Florence, I have a feeling that they will find something much more interesting than currant juice! That is one of the reasons I am going to tell the police about Felix. He could have come in, you know, and wiped the knife on your skirt whilst you were reading about the Wessex Parson. Or perhaps better let the Parson go, and stick to it that you were fast asleep and snoring. I don’t mind saying you were. After all, I am your sister.”