HE opened the door for her and watched her go. She walked slowly. A graceful creature, not over strong. No match at all for Lady Steyne. If she were happy she might be beautiful. No, that wasn’t the word — lovely. Yes, that was it — lovely, and sweet, and good.
She came up to Rafe Jerningham, gave him her message, and passed on.
Rafe looked after her as she went, and then took his casual way to the study.
Like Lisle, he gave the Inspector the sort of greeting he would have given to any acquaintance who had dropped in. Unlike the others, he did not sit down, but strolled to the jutting chimney breast, where he stood with his back to the hearth. Overhead, the portrait of the Jerningham who had been Lord Chief Justice of England frowned upon the scene. The crimson of the robes had gone away to the dull glow of a half extinguished fire, but the frown would endure while there was paint upon the canvas.
The Inspector, turning his chair to face the chimney-piece, met it full. The formidable brows beetled over dark eyes which were very like those of his descendants — more like Dale’s than Alicia Steyne’s or Rafe’s. But the brown skin was theirs, very marked against the grey wig. The hand grasping a parchment roll was Dale’s hand to the life.
Rafe, following the direction of the Inspector’s glance, said with a laugh,
“He was an awful old ruffian — hang you as soon as look at you. Good old days — weren’t they? You’d have been doing your job with a spot of rack and thumbscrew to get things going. Life’s gone all tame and soft — hasn’t it ?”
March smiled.
“I can get along without the thumbscrews. Actually, I don’t suppose you can tell me very much, except that I’d like to know what you thought of Pell when he was here in Mr. Jerningham’s employ.”
Rafe put his hands in his pockets. He stood easily, one foot on the stone kerb which guarded the hearth, the knee bent.
He said, “I don’t know that I thought of him at all. He didn’t come my way much — I’m one of the toiling millions. I do run a small car, but the other chap, Evans, does anything I don’t do myself. Pell just didn’t come my way. You’re not asking me what he looked like, I suppose?”
“I wouldn’t mind having that.” The Inspector was thinking that you don’t describe a man without giving away your opinion of him.
Rafe’s shoulder lifted.
“Short — wiry — tough — not the sort of chap you’d pick for a Don Juan. Very good at his job, I believe. Black hair, lightish eyes — tendency to spread grease and engine oil about. You know, that’s a very funny thing, the other man, Evans, could do the same job and come out comparatively spotless where Pell would be black all over. I couldn’t see why Cissie fell for him myself, but I suppose he smartened up a bit when he went courting.”
“What sort of temper had he?”
“He never showed any to me, but then as I say, I hadn’t much to do with him. Glum, silent sort of devil, but Dale always says he’s the best mechanic he ever came across.”
March said, “Thank you.” He didn’t think Rafe Jerningham had cottoned very much to his cousin’s pet mechanic. He said,
“Did you know the girl?”
“I’ve seen her off and on since she was a baby. I can’t say I knew her.”
“She didn’t talk to you about Pell?”
“Oh, no. I don’t think she talked to anyone except Lisle.”
“You were not on those terms. But you could hardly have known her for all those years without having your own opinion of her character. Would you say she was the sort of girl who might commit suicide if she was unhappy over a love affair?”
The shoulder lifted again.
“I shouldn’t like to say. I suppose anyone might commit suicide if they were pushed too far. I don’t know how far she was pushed.”
The twice repeated verb made its own impression on the Inspector. He said in his most serious voice,
“Will you give me your impression of the girl.”
Rafe frowned. There was a fleeting likeness to the ancestral Lord Chief Justice. He said with distaste in his voice,
“Oh, a long, thin dreep. No guts. The sort that whines and has a perpetual cold when it’s a child. But with a kind of obstinacy underneath — you know what I mean.”
“Would you expect that sort of girl to throw herself over a cliff?”
“The unexpected does sometimes happen,” said Rafe.
Inspector March agreed. He took up his notebook, laid it down again, and said,
“When you left Mrs. Jerningham last night it was to go for a walk. Can you tell me in what direction you went?”
Rafe removed his foot from the stone kerb and straightened up. With a careless movement he turned his wrist and took a glance at the watch which was strapped there. He said in rather an absentminded voice,
“Oh that — I went down and along the beach.”
“In which direction?”
“Oh, round the bay.”
“Did you go in the direction of Tane Head?”
Rafe smiled.
“I was forgetting you were a stranger here. If you walk far enough round the bay you get to Tane Head — in time.”
“How much time?” said March rather quickly.
“That,” said Rafe, still smiling, “would depend upon how fast you walked.”
“How long did it take you last night?”
“I’m afraid I didn’t get as far as that last night. I turned half way. It would have been too convenient if I had gone on, wouldn’t it? Eyewitness’s account of— well, I should have been in a position to say whether it was suicide or murder. Or perhaps not? As I don’t know exactly where Cissie fell, it’s quite possible that I mightn’t have been any use as a witness even if I had been on the spot. There are places where the cliff overhangs quite a piece.”
“Are you sure you were not there?” said March very directly.
Rafe Jerningham strolled over to the table and stood looking down at the Inspector with his quizzical smile.
“Oh, quite sure.”
March returned his look with a searching one.
“I should like to know how long it usually takes you to reach Tane Head from here.”
Rafe’s tone changed. He said in a perfectly simple manner,
“It is four miles by road — say ten minutes in a car, or on foot just over the hour if you’re a good walker. Two miles by the beach, and it takes me three-quarters of an hour.”
“Thank you — that is what I wanted to know. But last night you turned back half way?”
“About half way.”
“How was the light when you turned?”
“Good enough to see me home.”
“That would be about half past nine?”
“A little later than that — but I didn’t look at my watch.”
“Could you see the headland? Could you have seen if there was anyone up there?”
“Until I turned — oh, yes.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“Not a soul.”
“Or hear anything — either before you turned or afterwards?”
“I’m afraid not. Too bad, isn’t it? I’d have been such a convenient witness if I’d only gone on round the bay! But if you’d ever tried walking there after dark you’d know why I turned back.”
March said, “I see.” And then, “What time did you get in last night?”
Rafe took his hands out of his pockets. He picked up Dale’s ruler and balanced it.
“Oh, latish,” he said. “If I’d known it was going to matter, I’d have kept count of the time, but I’m afraid I didn’t. That’s the worst of things like murders and suicides, they drop on you without any warning. If I’d known that the unfortunate Cissie was going to be anything of the sort, I’d have kept an eye on the time, but as it was, I just dawdled along and finished up by sitting down by the sea wall until — well, that’s the bother, I don’t know when.”
“Midnight?” suggested the Inspector.
“It might have been,” said Rafe.
L ISLE went out into the garden. Beyond the tennis courts there was a shady place backed by the tall mixed hedge and flanked by old thorn trees. There was a seat against the hedge. She sat down there, leaned back, and let herself relax. She could see the sky, too full of light to be very blue, a grassy slope planted with rhododendron, azalea, syringa, lilac, and the white eucryphia shining like orange blossom in the sun. Lower down a few dark conifers, and hollies — gold, silver, and the old English green. A slender maple fluttered frail pink and white leaves. The air was still, but these translucent leaves were never still. Nothing else moved except the sea, glittering, brightening, changing with its own secret motion.
Lisle saw all these things as one sees things so accustomed that they are part of consciousness and are accepted without thought. Light, shade, sun, air, the scent of growing things in the sun — she opened her mind to them and let them stay there.
She fell into a light sleep, and woke to see Dale looking down at her. He stood between her and the sun. She thought it was his shadow that had waked her. When he moved the sunlight slanted in again between the branches of the old thorn tree. It was warm upon her arm and breast.
He moved, but did not sit down — just stood there frowning a little and looking at her as if there was something he wanted to say but he did not quite know how to begin.
Still not quite awake, she said, “What is it, Dale?” And then all at once the truce of sleep was over and she was broad awake and startled.
He said, “I want to talk to you. This is going to be a most unpleasant business. You’ve got to help.”
She looked at him, her eyes wide and soft, a little colour in her cheeks.
“What do you mean?”
He spoke with a kind of nervous irritation which made the words sound harsher than he meant them to be.
“For God’s sake, Lisle, wake up and be your age! I suppose you don’t want a lot of talk about this affair any more than I do. Where on earth have you been all day? I wanted to get hold of you before you saw March. What did he say to you? What did you tell him?”
She thought before she spoke. Why did she need to think? His temper flamed.
“What did you say?”
Even then she didn’t hurry. If he had known it, she was trying to steady her voice. It was not so very steady as she said,
“He just wanted to know what Cissie had said to me, and whether she was the sort of girl who might commit suicide if she was unhappy. I told him I didn’t think she was.”
“Was that all?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“And what makes you so sure that Cissie wouldn’t commit suicide?” His voice was rough with anger. “I should have thought she was just the sort of spineless creature—”
Lisle interrupted him.
“Oh, no — she wasn’t like that at all.”
“You’re very sure.”
“Yes, I am — because she was so pleased with the coat I gave her. That’s what I told the Inspector, and I think he quite saw it. If you’re not too unhappy to be pleased with a new coat, you’re not so unhappy that you’d throw yourself over a cliff.”
Dale’s face had changed suddenly. With a rough impulsive movement he flung himself down beside her and caught her hands in his.
“That damned coat! Why did you give it to her? Do you think I don’t keep seeing it — all smashed and stained? Your coat! Horrible!”
“Dale!”
He put her hands to his lips, bending his head down over them, holding them against his cheek, kissing them over and over again.
“Dale!”
“It’s a damnable thing! I keep thinking suppose it had been you.”
“How could it have been me?” said Lisle in a quiet, empty voice.
He laid her hands back in her lap and slipped an arm about her shoulders.
“That’s the sort of trick one’s imagination plays. You haven’t any, have you? It just got me on the raw — I don’t know why. I wish you hadn’t given her that coat. I don’t like other people wearing your things.”
Lisle almost laughed.
“Why, what can I do with them?”
“Burn them.”
“Dale — how wasteful! I couldn’t!”
“Never mind about that. Are you going to help me?”
A faint uneasiness stirred. She said,
“Of course. What do you want me to do?”
She began to wish that he would take his arm away, but it held her.
“It’s this way. You know Alicia drove me up to the aerodrome?”
“Yes.”
“Well, we went for a drive first. It was too early for night flying, and we went up on to the headland for a bit. We used to picnic up there when we were children. Lal wanted to watch the sunset, so we went. And we didn’t see Cissie, but we saw Pell rushing away in the deuce of a hurry. The worst of it is Lal and I will have to swear to that at the inquest, and if they run Pell in for murder, we shall have to swear to it at the trial. We didn’t get to the aerodrome till eleven, and every minute of the time we were together is going to be put under a microscope. It’s the most damnable thing that could have happened — you can imagine what people will say. And the only way to stop their mouths lies with you. You’ve got to go about with Alicia, and you’ve got to go about with me. We’ve got to give the best imitation of a honeymoon couple. If everyone sees the sort of terms we’re on, and that you and Lal are friends, well, there won’t be any more to say.”
Lisle sat back into the corner of the seat. His arm fell from her shoulders and lay along the oak rail. She said without looking at him,
“Is Alicia my friend?”
Dale sat back too. His hand came down on the seat with a thud.
“What do you mean by that? She’s my cousin — and your cousin.”
Lisle said what she had not meant to say.
“Are you in love with her?”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“No. I saw you yesterday — in the study—”
The dark colour rushed into his face. He looked for the moment so taken aback and helpless that her heart smote her. Then anger swept in.
“What are you talking about?”
She shrank back as far as she could go.
“Are you in love with her?”
“I don’t know what you think you saw.”
She said quite quietly and gently, “I saw you kissing each other. She had her arms round your neck. It was after Miss Cole had gone. I was looking for you to tell you about it. She wanted — no, that doesn’t matter—”
“None of it matters,” said Dale, in a different voice. He caught her hands again. “Darling, I’m awfully sorry — I really am. I wouldn’t have had. you hurt for the world. Lal and I haven’t the slightest idea of being in love — I give you my word we haven’t. We’re just awfully fond of each other, and — well, she’s impulsive. She’d been on at me to take her up next time I flew, and I’d been saying I wouldn’t, and all at once I gave in. She was so pleased she just chucked herself into my arms. Of course you had to come along at that identical moment! I really am sorry, darling. Do be friends.” He smiled at her with his eyes, drawing her towards him.
A thin, cold whisper went through her mind like a wandering wind. “It isn’t true — it wasn’t that sort of kiss — it isn’t true—” Why shouldn’t it be true? Why couldn’t she believe what he said, and believe the smile in his eyes and be happy again? A longing like a sharp hunger came over her to cry away all her fear and doubt and unhappiness in his arms. She mastered it.
Not that way, not because she was so achingly tired and afraid. What she had borne she could not go on bearing. If there was more to come she must bear that too, but she would meet it with her eyes open — not drugged and anaesthetised by a false happiness. A line came up out of memory and rang in her ears: “I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forbore and crept past.” She lifted her head and said gently,
“I’ll do anything I can. What do you want me to do?”
“Well, nothing very difficult, darling, though I’m afraid it may be a bit distressing. I thought we might go down and see Miss Cole together. She’d think a lot of it if we did.”
He released her hands, and she got up almost with relief. She was physically exhausted and mentally strained. The scene with Miss Cole would be a painful thing to go through, but anything was better than to go on sitting here on this lovely evening — the sea, and sky, and green things praising God, and Dale looking at her as if he loved her with all his heart. Six months ago it was paradise. Now she shrank from it as the last, worst burden she could be asked to bear.