The Listening Eye

When Moira reached for it, she moved back quickly and put the table between them. Something in her haste must have strengthened her fingers, because the envelope tore.

A snapshot dropped out. It went fluttering down, to lie upon the carpet and be seen for what it was. She saw it quite clearly, and so did Moira Herne. The blood came up into Mi

Moira picked up the snapshot and held out her hand. Mi

Mi

Chapter 18

THE drive went on for a little way before it turned and was out of sight of the house. All the time she was crossing the gravel sweep and walking down the open stretch of the drive Mi

She was standing with a hand stretched out before her and resting upon the bough of a small tree. It had its first leaves about it like a green cloud. She stood there holding on to it and not knowing what to do next, because her legs were shaking and there was a weakness in them and in her whole body. If she could sit down and rest for a little, perhaps some of her strength would come back and she would be able to walk down Cranberry Lane and get on to the Ledlington bus. She mustn’t miss it- oh, no, she mustn’t miss it-or her train. Florrie would be dreadfully worried if she missed her train. Florrie hadn’t wanted her to come.

At this point her thinking became very much confused. The bough seemed to be slipping out of her hand-everything seemed to be slipping. She had a dim sense that she was falling. And then that was gone too- everything was gone.

Miss Silver had walked down to the village to post a letter to her niece Ethel Burkett. Having received the news that Ethel’s sister Gladys whose irresponsible conduct had been giving her family a good deal of anxiety had now returned to her home and husband, she had hastened to relieve Ethel’s mind.

“Andrew Robinson,” she wrote, “is a man for whom I feel a great deal of respect. He does not pretend that Gladys’s conduct has not gravely displeased him, but he is prepared to overlook it and say no more about the matter. He believes her friend Mrs. Farmer to be a thoroughly bad influence, and is glad to be able to tell me that she will shortly be leaving Blackheath on a visit to her married daughter in South Africa. I can only hope that she too will have learned a lesson, and that her mischief-making proclivities will not be employed to impair the harmony of her daughter’s home.”

The letter posted, and the evening being clear and still, Miss Silver diverged from the drive and contemplated with pleasure the green park land with which Merefields was surrounded. There were many fine clumps of trees coming into leaf, the ground undulated in a ma

Amid these surroundings she strolled for a time, her thoughts dwelling with gratitude and relief upon the outcome of what had threatened to become a painful family problem. Returning through the shrubbery in the direction of the drive, she was following a narrow path set on either side with trees and bushes in their spring greenery, when her eye was attracted by something not at all in keeping with this rural beauty. It was, in fact, something of an extremely disquieting nature. What she saw was a woman’s hand in a black thread glove and a woman’s arm in a black cloth sleeve. The hand and arm lay upon the ground, and they lay very still. There was no more than that to be seen, because there was a froth of white bird cherry in the way. It was not in Miss Silver to hesitate before what might prove to be an unpleasant situation. She stepped off the path, pushed aside a blossoming bough, and saw Mi

She lay on her side, that one hand and arm stretched out as if when it was too late she had groped for something to break her fall. Her rather long black skirt was quite neatly disposed. Her shabby black hat had tilted and almost covered her face. She lay dreadfully still. Miss Silver went down on her knees, reached for the hand, and found it lax and warm. The warmth came through the black thread glove. She stripped it off and felt for the pulse in the wrist. She felt for it, but at first she could not find it. She had to shift her grasp more than once before she could feel the faint, slow beat. It was very faint indeed. Miss Silver took off the hat, took off her own scarf and laid it under the head, and considered what she had better do next. The woman was not young. The now exposed features were drawn and colourless. It was evident that assistance must be sought, but in order to summon it she must leave the poor thing alone, and this she really did not like to do.

She had just made up her mind that to hurry to the house was the only possible course for her to follow, when the hand which she was holding stirred faintly and a pair of blue eyes blinked up at her from the pale face. It was obvious that at first they did not see her. They had the look with which a very young infant gazes at what it ca

“You will be all right now.”

The eyes shut again. A few moments passed before they opened. Mi

“I fell-”

“Did you hurt yourself?”

The reply came in a faint wondering tone.

“I-don’t-think so-” Then after a pause, “It was-a long way. I was-so tired-”

It was some time before Miss Silver felt it prudent to ask a question.

“Were you on your way to the house?”

The head was feebly shaken.

“No-I was coming away-” The eyes filled with tears. “I can’t go back there-I can’t-”

Miss Silver said very gently indeed, “Why can you not go back?”

When Mi