She Came Back

He looked at her keenly. The basis of their relation was the fact that each admired and stimulated the other. In her presence all the mental processes were quickened and intensified, thoughts stood out sharply. He said,

“If that is so, your second reason doesn’t apply, I’m afraid. She certainly wasn’t shocked at Nellie Collins’ death because she was fond of her. That stuck out about a mile-it’s the sort of thing you can’t miss. The Chief went on talking about her, and there wasn’t a trace of affection in Lady Jocelyn’s replies. Of course if she is A

Miss Silver nodded gently.

“Yes-that is very interesting,” she said. “Assuming that Lady Jocelyn is A

He nodded.

“Yes-it might be like that. I think it’s clear that she wasn’t in at the death, so to speak.”

Miss Silver primmed her mouth.

“A distasteful metaphor, Frank.”

“Apologies-you know what I mean. The girl at Jocelyn’s Holt, Ivy What’s-her-name, says she came up to town with Lady Jocelyn and was never out of sight or sound of her for more than a minute or two until they all went to bed just short of eleven. All the doors of the flat were open, and they were going to and fro from one room to the other, unpacking and arranging things. Mrs. Perry Jocelyn arrived just before four, and they all three carried on. She stayed till seven o’clock, when Lady Jocelyn went into the kitchen and began to prepare the evening meal. Ivy says she’s a lovely cook, but I think she considered it a bit infra dig. Sir Philip got in at half past seven. After di

Miss Silver’s small nondescript eyes met his with an unexpected spark of humour.

“Are you by any chance thinking about a needle and a bundle of hay?”

He laughed.

“Make it a whole hay-harvest and have done with it! The Chief has put me on to follow up anything I can find. So far all we’ve got to go on is, first, Miss Collins’ description of a very pleasant gentleman, and her supposition that he might be Philip Jocelyn, which of course he wasn’t. Now you talked to her, and I didn’t. Would it be safe to assume that this means the fellow was what is called a gentleman? I mean, do you think she would know?”

“I should be inclined to think so.”

“Because, you see, that would be a clue-cultured murderer with an agreeable telephone ma

He produced the triangular scrap of paper torn from the half sheet upon which Miss Silver had written her name and address for Nellie Collins. One below the other, coming in from the jagged edge, stood the syllables -ver; -sions; -ham St.; the second of these being so badly smudged as to be almost illegible.

Miss Silver looked at the smudge.

“That has been worrying me,” she said. “How did it happen?”

“I think it was done on purpose. Smeared probably with a damp handkerchief. There weren’t any fingerprints. You know, we both thought this corner had got caught on the broken glass and left behind that way. But now I don’t think so-I think that’s what we were meant to think. Actually, I’m pretty sure it was deliberate. Because there’s a Cu

Miss Silver coughed and said, “Just so. There is a clever mind behind all this, Frank.”

He nodded.

“Well, our cultured gentleman knows Ruislip pretty well. Of course he may have sat down with a directory and just gone on looking till he found something to fit in with your scrap of paper, but I don’t somehow think so. It would have taken too long, it wouldn’t have been worth while. I think he just had a brain-wave, remembered Miss Oliver, and chucked her in to keep things humming. It’s got a spur-of-the-moment smell about it.”

Miss Silver agreed. He went on.

“Well, culture and Ruislip-neither of them very hot scent.

And then there’s Lady Jocelyn. There must be a co

Miss Silver coughed.

“The co

Frank ran a hand over his shining hair.

“Who left England more than ten years ago, and whose associations and dossier since then are submerged in occupied France. What a hope!”