In the meantime Pamela Grey had been passing through a time of emotional stress, with alternating periods of elation and depression which she found very trying.
First there had been the shock of Platt’s disappearance. This had profoundly moved her, particularly owing to the unpleasantness which she had had with him such a short time before. But the shock was as nothing compared with the dreadful fears and doubts which had immediately assailed her mind, fears and doubts so secret and so horrible that she scarcely allowed herself to put them into conscious thought. Happily her panic did not last. She was soon able to thank God that her fears had largely evaporated, while her shameful unworthy doubts had entirely vanished.
Next came an experience of a different kind—Jefferson’s visit. This evoked her keenest interest, upon which was superimposed a magnificent crescendo of delight as Jefferson grew more and more impressed by the process, and finally signed the provisional agreement which bade fair to assure to the syndicate accomplishment and fortune. To Pam it meant a lot more than success in their undertaking. It was owing to her action that Mr Whiteside had put his money into the affair, and she was glad he was not going to lose it. But infinitely more important than anything else, Jefferson’s action made possible her marriage with Jack. There would be money, more than enough, for everything they might want.
Then had come a fresh shock, the finding of Platt’s body. Instantly all her fears had revived. But the verdict at the inquest had been a profound relief. As the death was now definitely known to have been suicide, she need no longer fear. The affair had been terrible; but it was over. A dreadful episode, but an episode past and done with.
She was therefore the more upset and distressed when Jefferson summoned the group to a meeting and she discovered that the matter was by no means over and done with. Jefferson’s suggestion that Platt might have stolen the secret and been murdered for it was more horrible than ever. For a while panic again gripped her, then she gradually realised that the idea was Jefferson’s alone, and that there was no proof of its truth. Her fears again subsided. Apparently Jefferson had frightened them unnecessarily and nothing would come of his theory.
But this optimism was soon dispelled. The police came back again. Not directly about the affair: they were making inquiries about someone called Roberts. Still, this suggestion of police activity behind the scenes was disquieting. She wondered what they were doing and if by any chance they could agree with Jefferson?
She was also worried about another matter, though it had been so overshadowed by her fears that it had grown relatively unimportant. The petrol affair was not progressing as it should. On the day after his arrival back at Bristol, Jefferson had met with an accident and he had put off the visit of Ferris and Jack. It was a temporary delay, of course, but still it was unfortunate.
Altogether the whole period since Platt’s arrival had been pretty trying. It was true that the cloud was passing over, had passed over she might almost say, but while it had lasted it had been rather horrible. Pam, indeed, had almost begun to think that a fortune could be too dearly bought.
Now, however, she was cheered, this time by the preparations for her marriage. She and Jack had begun that fascinating though exasperating task of finding a suitable house. They had decided on having a quiet marriage and taking a cottage, a modest establishment, on a year or two’s lease. Until the big money began to come in Jack proposed to keep on his job and their immediate expenses were to be met by a loan from Mr Penrose. When they were actually rich they would travel for a year or two, and then probably build. Excepting for the immediate future it was all delightfully vague and thrilling.
Then another blow fell which brought back with a rush all Pam’s fears, and left her more anxious than ever.
It happened on a Tuesday afternoon, about a week after Sergeant M‘Clung’s visit to Ferris about Roberts. Work at the office was slack and Jack had decided to take a half-holiday to go with Pam to inspect a house at Knockmore, a district a short distance away from Hillsborough. As they were returning they met Ferris on the road. He held up his hand and Jack pulled the car over.
‘I say,’ Ferris began, ‘this thing isn’t over yet. That sergeant fellah has been down again from Belfast, M‘Clung his name is. He started over the whole blessed affair again as if he hadn’t heard a thing about it before.’
Jack looked startled, while Pam clenched her hands till the knuckles showed white.
‘What affair are you talking about?’ Jack asked. ‘That Roberts man?’
‘Not at all. The Platt business.’
‘What about the Platt business? Hadn’t he heard it all before?’
‘Isn’t that what I’m telling you? He wanted the whole story over again from the beginning; as if he had never heard a word about it. I don’t know what he was after.’
Pam felt horror creeping like a fog over her mind. ‘Oh, Fred,’ she said tremulously, ‘what was it all about? Did he not say what had started it again?’
‘He did not. He said he was trying to collect some further information. But you’ll see him for yourselves. He was asking when he could see the both of you.’
‘It’s about that Roberts,’ Jack suggested. ‘Did he not mention him?’
‘He did not. Never mentioned the name.’
‘Has he gone?’
‘He has, but he’ll be back.’
‘You didn’t tell him anything new?’
‘Sure how could I when I had told him it all before?’ Ferris returned with some irritation.
‘You might have known from his questions what he was after.’
Ferris looked aggrieved. ‘Well, so I did,’ he admitted sarcastically. ‘He asked about Platt and why he came over here and what he did while he was here and how he went away. I took it he was after what had happened to Platt.’
Jack continued asking questions as if he was somehow convinced that Ferris could have produced a full explanation of the whole affair, had he so desired. But in the end he desisted, and they drove on.
‘Oh, Jack,’ Pam moaned, ‘what does it mean? Why can’t they let it alone?’ Her fears had swelled up like a great flood.
‘Means nothing.’ Jack took the news coolly. ‘They have to fuss around a bit for their money.’
‘But surely the thing was settled at the inquest. It was proved to be suicide. Why can’t they let it be?’
‘It wasn’t proved to be suicide: the inquest doesn’t matter two hoots. The police may think it was murder. Wouldn’t be surprised myself. Platt didn’t seem the man for suicide.’
‘Oh, dreadful!’
‘Jefferson thought it was murder: you could see that by what he said at that meeting. Maybe he’s got the police convinced.’
Though Pam once again felt utterly terrified, she took some comfort from Jack’s attitude. He was so obviously unimpressed. Clearly no idea of the nature of her fears had entered his mind. Well, that was all to the good. If he was so sure, perhaps there really was no danger. She knew she was imaginative, and perhaps it was simply that her imagination had run away with her.
But later on that evening her terror was renewed, and even Jack began to seem a little upset.
She had dined with the Penroses, and was beginning to feel happier as she and Jack sat chatting in his tiny den, when Ferris was announced.
‘I thought I’d come round and tell you,’ he began, as he took a cigarette from the case Jack held out. ‘That fellow M‘Clung’s been making more inquiries.’
‘What?’ Jack asked.
‘Well, he had asked Mac and me what we were doing on the Sunday after Platt left—the Sunday, mind you. We told him, of course: not that there was anything special to tell. But we told him what there was.’
‘Well? For heaven’s sake go ahead.’
‘Well, I’ve just seen Mac and what do you think? M‘Clung had gone straight to his house after he left us, and asked if he was there on the Sunday.’
Jack stared.
‘Not just straight out like that, you know,’ went on Ferris. ‘He pretended there was some question about the time Platt left for the boat on Saturday night, and that if he knew what time M‘Morris had got home it would help to settle it. He said M‘Morris couldn’t remember and he wondered if any of them there could help him.’
‘What’s that to do with Sunday?’
‘I’m coming to that. It happened that the maid knew what time he got in, for it was her evening out and he’d turned up just after she had: just at the time he’d said. Then M‘Clung slipped in a question about what time he’d gone out on Sunday. He did it casually and they didn’t notice anything funny about it. But he made quite sure Mac was there.’
‘But what’s it all about? What’s the man after?’
‘There’s more in it than that,’ Ferris went on. ‘When Mac told me that, we both went down to the hotel and had a drink and asked a question or two. And he was there too. He must have gone straight to the hotel from Mac’s.’
‘What doing?’
‘Checking up on our statement. When Platt had had dinner, when Mac and I went in, when we left for Belfast. Everything he could check, he checked.’
‘But he’d done that before?’
‘Of course he had. That’s what Agnew and Quirky said. It was all the same questions he asked over again.’ Ferris paused and nodded his head significantly. ‘And I expect when I go and see the Alexanders in the morning, I’ll hear he was there too.’
Jack stared. ‘The Alexanders? What on earth are you talking about now?’
‘My alibi,’ Ferris returned darkly. ‘I spent Sunday afternoon there. He’ll have been to check up if that was true.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Jack repeated with exasperation.
‘Well, you will,’ Ferris said with gloom. ‘He’ll be coming to you next.’
Still Jack did not seem to appreciate what might lie behind M‘Clung’s questions, but with every sentence of Ferris’s Pam’s terror grew more overwhelming. This looked like what she had feared from the very beginning! And how could suspicions of that kind be disproved? …
‘He didn’t say he was coming to see Jack?’ she asked, speaking with difficulty through her dry lips.
‘He did. He’s coming to see you both. He was looking for you this afternoon, then when I told him you were away he said he’d be down again tomorrow.’
It was evident to Pam that Ferris understood, if he did not share, her fears. But equally obviously the idea had not occurred to Jack. Should she tell him what was on her mind? Should she warn him, so that the hideous suggestion should not come on him unexpectant and unawares? Or would it be better that it should so come on him? Would not his manner be more convincing in the latter case? She did not know. Horribly worried she said goodnight without unburdening her soul.
And in the morning it was too late. She went early to Hillview, but he had already left for the office. She did not follow him to Lisburn. Perhaps after all, things were better as they were.
For the next hour she waited in a fever of unease and apprehension. She could settle to nothing, and the suspense grew almost unbearable. Indeed it was almost with feelings of relief, that at last she saw the small Ford drive up to the door. M‘Clung and a plain-clothes man got out. They were shown into the sitting room. She went down.
Now that she was face to face with the ordeal, Pam’s nervousness seemed to a large extent to evaporate. She felt calm and her own mistress. To her astonishment she became satisfied that she would be able to control her manner so as not to suggest to these men that she was otherwise than secure and content.
M‘Clung’s manner also, whether by his own intention or otherwise, tended to put her at her ease. He was polite, almost friendly, and entirely matter of fact and free from emotion. The plain-clothes man, whom he called Brown, seemed kindly and sheepish rather than aggressive. He looked the indulgent and slightly sat-upon father of a family rather than the stern and implacable policeman. Pam breathed more freely.
‘It’s the same business that I was down about before, Miss Grey,’ M‘Clung began. ‘There’s a new feature come into the case since you gave your statement and I want to ask you one or two more questions. It’s about a man named Roberts. Did ever you hear of him?’
A wave of relief filled Pam’s mind. What a fool she had been!
‘I heard from Mr Ferris that you had been down here making inquiries about someone of that name,’ she answered calmly. ‘I never myself heard of any Mr Roberts.’
‘You never heard the name mentioned?’
‘Not in connection with anyone here.’
M‘Clung seemed disappointed. He continued in a sort of half-hearted way questioning her, as if repeating the questions might make her change her answers. Pam’s fears had almost evaporated, and even she had the courage to turn the tables on the sergeant and ask who Roberts was.
‘Well, that’s just what we’re wanting to know,’ he returned, it seemed to her, apologetically. ‘He’s a man we think crossed with Mr Platt and saw him on the boat. If we could find him we might get something more about what happened.’
‘But is there any doubt about what happened?’ Pam asked, growing bolder still.
‘Well,’ M‘Clung shrugged, ‘that Mr Jefferson that was over, he’s been to the super with some tale that Platt had stolen that secret of yours and that this man Roberts had murdered him for it. Roberts was staying here at the hotel and he certainly crossed by the same boat. I don’t think there’s anything in it myself, but Mr Jefferson he’s got the super’s ear and so we’ve got to go into the thing again. But don’t you, miss, be letting on that I said so.’
‘Of course not.’ A whole weight of anxiety and dread was lifted from Pam. What a fool she had been, she thought again. There was nothing to be frightened about. Nothing! It was queer about Roberts certainly, but it had nothing to do with her. She turned almost warmly to M‘Clung as he went on in his rather singsong voice.
‘So those being the orders you’ll excuse me if I have to go over your evidence again. I have to report that I’ve done so in the case of all the witnesses.’
‘Of course, sergeant. As I said before, I would be only too glad to help you, only I’m afraid I can’t.’
‘Thank you, miss. Then I’ll begin.’
He was certainly as good as his word. Once again he went into her whole statement and in the most minute detail. Indeed he appeared himself to feel how exasperating and unnecessary it must seem to Pam, as he apologised for his persistence. ‘I’m wanting to know if there was anything that suggested the secret might have been stolen,’ he explained. ‘You might have seen something that would suggest it to me, though you mightn’t have thought of it yourself.’
The questions drew on to the Saturday. ‘When was the last time you saw Mr Platt?’ he asked.
‘About midday at Mr Ferris’s cottage.’
‘Oh, then you weren’t in at the steamer in the evening?’
Pam hesitated. ‘I didn’t see Mr Platt off, if that’s what you mean. But I was at the steamer, or rather at the shed door.’
‘How was that, Miss Grey?’
‘I drove Mr Penrose in.’
‘I see. Then Mr Penrose and Mr Platt didn’t go in together?’
‘No.’
‘Two people crossing from here by the same boat on the same night. Friends too. Tell me, why didn’t they go together?’
For the first time Pam felt some confusion. ‘Well,’ she replied, less spontaneously, she could not help feeling, ‘I think you know that Mr Penrose and I are engaged. I wanted to see him off myself.’
‘I understood that. I think you said you had been engaged for some time?’
‘That’s correct.’
Slowly M‘Clung turned over the pages of his notebook. ‘I see,’ he said presently, ‘you and Mr Penrose went into Belfast to meet Mr Platt. Why shouldn’t you have done the same thing about his going away?’
‘It’s not quite the same thing, I think. Mr Penrose was going away for some days. I wanted to have him to myself at the last.’
‘Well, that certainly is different.’ The suspicion of a smile hovered round the corners of M‘Clung’s mouth. Under other circumstances Pam would have been furious with him for it: now she was grateful. ‘You didn’t happen to see Mr Platt or Mr Ferris or Mr Ferris’s car when you were in?’
‘I did not.’
‘They were in about half-past ten. What time would you have got down to the boat?’
‘Not till nearly eleven. Indeed we ran it rather fine.’
‘How was that, Miss Grey?’
‘The car was punctured. When we went out to start, one of the back wheels was flat.’
‘Oh? And what did you do?’
‘Mr Penrose changed it.’
‘He changed it, did he? At that time of night?’ M‘Clung looked thoughtful. He glanced at Pam with something of suspicion in his eyes. Apprehension surged back into Pam’s mind. The atmosphere suddenly changed. Tension grew.
But M‘Clung didn’t seem to notice it. With his manner more matter of fact than ever, he went on with his questions.
‘Let me see that I’ve got that straight. When did you go out to the car in the first instance?’
‘About a quarter to ten.’
‘Then you would have been at the boat shortly after ten. That would have been rather early, wouldn’t it?’
‘I thought so. But Mr Penrose didn’t want me to be out too late. You see, after returning the car to Hillview, I had to walk home.’
‘I see. Then you found the wheel punctured and Mr Penrose changed it. And I suppose had to pump the spare one up?’
‘He had.’
‘And you weren’t done till nearly half-past ten?’
‘Between quarter and half-past.’
Again M‘Clung paused, obviously thinking hard. ‘Now here’s something I want you to tell me,’ he went on presently. ‘Mr Penrose wanted you back early. But if he changed the wheel you wouldn’t get back till late. Now under these special circumstances, why couldn’t he have gone in with Mr Ferris?’
It was a nasty question, but Pam felt equal to it. ‘Well, it was rather late then, wasn’t it? Mr Ferris might have left.’
‘Oh, I see. You mean by the time you had walked to Mr Ferris’s cottage, he would probably have left? Is that what you mean?’
Pam nodded with some relief.
‘And there was no telephone to the cottage.’ He paused, then added quietly, ‘You’re sure that was the reason?’
It was not exactly what Pam had meant to convey. She felt as if she had somehow been trapped into the statement, but now that she had made it, she thought she had better stick to it. ‘Well, there was a risk of it, wasn’t there?’ she answered as lightly as she could.
Once again M‘Clung paused. Then he said slowly, ‘No, there wasn’t any risk of it. You knew that Mr Ferris wasn’t starting from his cottage but from the hotel, where he was to go to pick up Mr Platt. You said so before. Why did you not ring up the hotel?’
Pam gasped. This was horrible. This was what she had feared from the beginning, but what she thought she had escaped. But she mustn’t betray her fear. ‘I’m afraid neither of us thought of that,’ she answered shakily.
M‘Clung’s manner, which had grown more matter-of-fact and bored as the interrogation went on, now changed with disconcerting suddenness, and Pam saw that beneath the respectful easy-going exterior there was hidden quite a different type of man. He stared at her fixedly and said in a much sharper tone:
‘Now, Miss Grey, you’ve done extra well up to the present. I would have staked my life on everything you’ve said. Now, don’t be spoiling it. Forget that last answer and let me have the truth.’
Pam flushed. ‘It was the truth,’ she declared.
‘It may be. But it wasn’t the whole truth. Now, what was it? I can see by your manner that there was some other reason, and I’m going to know what it was.’
Pam hesitated. She was honest and truthful by nature, but she would have lied herself black in the face if it would have helped Jack. But would any prevarication help Jack? Now that he suspected something, this man would certainly find it out. She could not rely on Ferris or M‘Morris lying for Jack. And Jack himself certainly wouldn’t lie. He would tell the whole thing without the slightest hesitation. Would her prevarication not arouse the very suspicions she wanted to avoid? She felt profoundly worried.
Then suddenly she saw a way by which she might tell the truth and still keep Jack out of it.
‘It’s not a thing I want to talk about,’ she said, allowing herself to look embarrassed and distressed, ‘but if I must, I suppose I must. I can only ask you not to repeat it.’ Again she paused. ‘The truth is that Mr Platt had—had got a little too friendly. There was nothing in it, of course, but I didn’t like it and I didn’t want to see more of him than I could. It was I who insisted in driving Mr Penrose in. That’s the whole thing.’
M‘Clung seemed about to ask another question, then paused in his turn. Again he turned over the pages of his notebook, apparently comparing two items. Then he put away the notebook and smiled.
‘That’s too bad, Miss Grey. I can understand you wouldn’t be wanting to talk about it, and I withdraw what I said. Now let’s see; I think that’s about all.’ He sat for a moment thinking, then rose to his feet. ‘We’ll be getting along now, and I’m sorry for giving you all this annoyance.’
It was over! And it hadn’t been so bad. Except for that unfortunate question just at the end, the man had learnt nothing that she hadn’t already told him. And about that she needn’t be upset. Obviously he had thought nothing of it. He hadn’t even asked if Jack was aware of her feelings, as she thought he was going to. Instead he had looked up his book. But as there could have been nothing about the affair in his book, she needn’t worry because of that. No, she had done well. It was over, and well over.
At the same time she felt physically as if she had been beaten, and so tired that she could scarcely hold up her head. She decided she must do something about it. Actually she did two things, both unprecedented. She mixed herself a stiff tot of brandy, and she went upstairs and lay down on her bed.
Her rest-cure was a success. She fell asleep, waking only at lunch time. Much refreshed, she found herself able to talk naturally to her parents about M‘Clung’s visit.
But after the meal when she was again alone, her anxiety swelled up once more. She felt she must know whether M‘Clung had interviewed Jack, and what he had said. She could not possibly wait till the evening. She decided she would go into Lisburn. She would not go to the office, but she would ring up Jack from a street booth and he would come out and meet her. She would only keep him a minute.
Relieved at the prospect of seeing him so soon, she put on her things and went out to get the bus. But before she reached its stopping place she met Ferris.
‘You saw the sergeant?’ he asked her in a low tone.
She didn’t like his manner, which was vaguely disquieting. ‘I did,’ she answered. ‘He questioned me for an hour and more.’
‘What time did he leave?’
‘Getting on to eleven.’
Ferris nodded. ‘Then he must have come straight,’ he remarked.
‘What?’ Pam asked sharply. ‘Was he with you too?’
‘He was so.’ Ferris paused, seeming a little embarrassed. He looked doubtfully at Pam, then went on, still in a low voice. ‘What did you tell him about Jack’s row with Platt for? Wouldn’t it have been wiser to have said nothing about that?’
Pam stared. ‘I never told him about it.’
‘You what?’ It was now Ferris’s turn to stare. ‘Well, he knew all about it and he said you told him.’
‘Fred: I never did!’ Her voice sharpened as once again panic seized her. ‘Tell me.’
‘Good Lord! The dirty hound! He got it out of me by a trick. I say, Pam, I’m so sorry. But I didn’t know.’ His voice took on a supplicating tone.
Pam almost danced with impatience. ‘Oh, what does it matter?’ she hissed. ‘Tell me! What happened?’
‘He came and he talked, as confidential as you please. He said he was wanting to know a bit more about the unpleasantness between Jack and Platt on the Saturday morning. He said you’d mentioned it, but that you’d seemed to feel the thing, and so he hadn’t wanted to keep on at you about it. If I would let him know further details, he said he wouldn’t have to trouble you again.’
‘And what did you say?’ Pam’s mouth had gone dry.
‘I said it was nothing. Platt had got a little fresh with you, and Jack didn’t like it, that was all. I said there was no harm done.’
‘And was he satisfied with that?’
Ferris looked really upset. ‘Well, he was not,’ he admitted. ‘He said he’d understood from you it was much more serious than that. Then he began—you know the way he has—taking each item of the thing and asking questions about it till all’s no more. What exactly had Platt done? Had he taken you in his arms? Had he kissed you? and I don’t know what all. Then, where was Jack at this time? Did he see it? What did he do? Then he said he’d understood from you that Jack had gone for Platt and that there had been a fight. Had there or had there not? Well, what could I say? I told him there was no fight at all, but that Jack had struck Platt once. Then I told him Platt had apologised and the thing had blown over.’
‘But I never told him a single word of all that.’
Ferris shrugged. ‘I’m afraid I see it now,’ he admitted, ‘now when it’s too late. The dirty dog was just guessing and bluffing and I, like the mug I am, didn’t see what he was up to. I see now what was on his mind because of the questions he asked me first: I couldn’t make out what he was after at the time. He wanted to know hadn’t we all dined with the Penroses on Friday evening, and if Jack and Platt were friendly then. I said they were, which was the truth. I didn’t know what was coming, you see?’
‘Oh, go on!’
‘Then he wanted to know what had happened when we left the house after dinner. I said Mac and I had run Platt to the hotel and had a drink with him before separating. By that, he got that Jack and Platt hadn’t met again that night. He had it in his book that we’d all been at the cottage on Saturday morning and also that you and Jack hadn’t seen Platt after that meeting. So he must have guessed the trouble took place then, because there wasn’t any other time it could have. But Pam, you must have told him something to make him start wondering?’
‘He asked me why Jack and Platt hadn’t gone to the steamer together. I put it on myself. I told him Platt had been a little affectionate and that I was just as glad not to go in with him. I never brought in Jack at all.’
‘He must have guessed Jack knew or Jack would have wanted to go in together. You see, he’s just put two and two together and pretended you told him, and so got confirmation out of me. I’m sorry, Pam, but it’ll not do any harm.’
‘Oh, Fred, are you sure?’
‘I am so. Certain sure.’
‘It has never occurred to Jack that there might be—danger.’
‘No, nor to anybody else either, except yourself. It wouldn’t have occurred to me, only I saw what was in your mind. Don’t you be worrying yourself, Pam. Jack’s all right.’
He spoke confidently, and she looked at him with gratitude. Perhaps he was correct and she was needlessly alarmed. After all no one who knew Jack could possibly suspect him. And then again came that horrible qualm. He was known to be passionate. His temper was very short: a quick flare-up and over in a moment. Anyone who didn’t know him really well might doubt. Why even she … Her cheeks burned as she recalled her thoughts. She knew better now, but others …
The bus came up and she took her place. At Lisburn she rang up Jack. And then was dispelled one awful fear which in spite of herself had fought its way into her mind. His voice answered her as normally and unemotionally as ever.
Five minutes later they had entered a café and called for tea. It was early in the afternoon and the place was empty. They could talk without risk of being overheard.
‘Oh, Jack, tell me. Was the sergeant with you?’
‘He was, curse him. I had an appointment in M‘Auley’s office and I thought he’d never go. For a whole blessed hour he sat there asking silly questions. I nearly told him what I thought of him.’
‘What did he ask about?’
‘What didn’t he ask about?’ Jack grew indignant. ‘Every darned thing: things that he’d been told about six times already. A fat lot of good it must have done him.’
‘Did he mention the row with Platt?’
‘That too. Though how the hell he knew about it beats me.’
‘What did he say?’
Jack grinned suddenly. ‘He asked me if Platt was stunned when I knocked him down. I told him a fellow with a skin as thick as his would take something more than a blow from me to knock him out.’
Pam shivered. ‘Jack, you didn’t?’ she exclaimed. Was Jack an absolute utter fool, or had he shown the highest form of wisdom? She didn’t know, but she remained terrified. ‘What did he say?’ she went on tremulously.
‘He said he understood the fellow had apologised and that the matter was closed, and was this so?’
‘Yes?’
‘I told him it was so.’
‘Well, and what then?’ Sometimes she felt she would like to shake Jack. Getting information from him was like squeezing blood out of a stone.
‘Well, that was all. He put up the usual story about being obliged for my help and all that guff, and then he cleared out.’
‘And did he seem satisfied?’
‘Of course he seemed satisfied. Why wouldn’t he? When is that blessed girl going to bring the tea?’
It was all right. A little shakily Pam reassured herself. And Jack had been wise. Whether he had intended it or not—she rather imagined not—he had as a matter of fact said just the right things. He couldn’t have done better. Yes, it was all right. Relief stole into her mind.
And that relief continued to grow as day after day passed and the police made no further sign. So far as she was concerned it had been a false alarm. She had worried herself needlessly. As it happened so often before under other circumstances, she had allowed her imagination to run away with her. She was always suffering from things that didn’t happen. It should be a lesson to her.
Gradually her thoughts turned from the subject to the brighter one of her approaching marriage. Jack had taken the house at Knockmore on a two years’ lease, and she had spent many thrilling hours there over the question of carpets, curtains and wallpapers. Furniture also was a subject of endless delight and its disposition gave rise to the most entrancing problems. In these Jack was even less use than she anticipated, but this perhaps was just as well, for in this house, this marvellous house, this house which was to be really her own, she was going to have everything her own way. But she wanted him to admire her choice, and in this unhappily he became a trifle short also.
‘How do you think that chair goes with the carpet?’ she would say. ‘Isn’t it just perfect, as if they were made for one another?’ and he would answer heartily, ‘Fine! What about a spot of lunch?’ However, she told herself, he was made like that and she wouldn’t change him for any other living soul on earth.
She was a lucky girl, she told herself again! How incredibly her outlook had changed in the last twelve months! Then, cramped in means as her parents were, she was trying to find an apparently non-existent job, and looking forward to an existence of struggle and privation. Now, about to marry the best man in the whole world, and with a prospect of wealth greater than she could have imagined, her future was assured—as far as anything in this world can be sure. A lucky girl! Incredible was the only word for it.
And then in a moment her entire outlook was changed. That awful, ghastly terror which for so long had been lurking in the recesses of her mind suddenly reappeared, this time as a stark reality.
Early one morning Mr Penrose, white and trembling and looking ten years older, called to see her. He could scarcely speak. But for all that he was able to make his meaning clear. Late on the previous night police officers had arrived and had arrested Jack on a charge of murder.