Now that she had made a start it wasn’t so difficult. In fact it wasn’t difficult at all. The room was so exactly like rooms which she remembered when she was a little girl and went visiting with her grandmother. Gran herself had possessed photograph-frames in silver filigree on plush, and had cherished a photogravure of The Stag at Bay. Old Miss Emsley who had been one of Gran’s bridesmaids, had possessed chairs of the same family as these, with curly walnut legs and spreading laps. Great-aunt Cecilia had worn beaded slippers and net fronts with little bones to keep the collar stiff. These familiar associations promoted confidence. Miss Silver diffused it to a quite extraordinary degree. By some means best known to herself she possessed the art of turning back the clock until the state of tension and fear in which so many of her visitors found themselves gave way insensibly to the atmosphere of the schoolroom. Here the problem became the teacher’s affair, to propound, to explain, and to resolve. The responsibility was hers, the solution already known.

Katharine did not put any of this into words, but she felt its influence. When she had told Miss Silver about Tattlecombe’s Toy Bazaar, the Wurzel toys, Mr. Tattlecombe’s accident, and what William had told her about being hit over the head, Miss Silver gave her gentle cough.

‘I think that is not all.’

Katharine said, ‘No.’

She locked her hands tightly together in her lap and told Miss Silver about the jab in the back. Then she told her about Emily Salt.

‘She really is a very queer sort of person. I don’t think she’s right in her head. William says she has dreadfully creepy ways, and Mr. Tattlecombe says she ought to be in a home. He says she listens at doors too. I believe she is very angry because Mr. Tattlecombe has made a will leaving the business to William. I – I wondered – ’

‘Yes, Mrs. Smith?’

‘She really isn’t right in her head – I’m sure about that. Mr. Tattlecombe had been telling William about his will that first time he was attacked. I did just wonder if she had been listening at the door and – and- Oh, it does seem dreadful, but I can’t help thinking of it!’

Miss Silver knitted thoughtfully.

‘And the second attack – that also occurred after he had been visiting Mr. Tattlecombe?’

‘Yes. She could have followed him.’

‘Would she be physically capable of such an assault?’

‘She is a tall, bony woman.’

After a moment Miss Silver said, ‘Sergeant Abbott, who witnessed the attack, appeared to have no doubt that the person he saw was a man.’

The quick colour came to Katharine’s cheeks.

‘It was dark and wet. Mr. Tattlecombe’s waterproof was hanging in the hall – I saw it myself when we went there to tea.

Miss Silver knitted in silence for a little while. Then she said,

‘When did Mr. Tattlecombe sign the will benefiting your husband?’

‘The day before he told William about it.’

‘In fact the day before the first attack.’

‘Yes.’

‘It was the first attack, Mrs. Smith? There had been no previous indications of enmity or ill will from any quarter?’

Katharine was taken by surprise. When she looked startled, as she did now, her eyebrows took an upward tilt, her eyes widened and brightened. William called it her flyaway look. It really did give her the air of a creature poised for flight. It was not lost on Miss Silver. She said with some firmness,

‘Was the blow on the head the first attempt?’

The colour drained out of Katharine’s face. She said in a distressed voice,

‘I don’t know.’

‘I think it might clarify your ideas if you put them into words. You have some incident in mind – it would be better if you would tell me what it was.’

Katharine felt as she had often felt when bathing. You walked into shallow water which was deceptively warm and tranquil, then, as it rose about your body, it became colder and the cold rose too. If you went too far, any step might take you out of your depth. She thought this step was safe. But was it? She didn’t know. She looked at Miss Silver in some distress of mind, and then without any premeditation found herself saying,

‘I was thinking about Mr. Tattlecombe’s accident.’

‘Yes?’

‘It happened just outside the shop. He lives over it, and he always goes out for a breath of air the last thing at night. It was about half-past ten, and it was a very dark, damp night. He came out by the private door with the light on in the passage behind him, and he went to the edge of the kerb and fell under a car. He says he was “struck down”. He had concussion, and he was badly bruised, and there was an injury to his leg. He might easily have been killed. Of course he may have slipped – ’

‘You connect this incident with the other one?’

Katharine looked away from her into the fire.

‘He is the same height and build as William is, and he has the same kind of hair, only it’s grey – but with the light shining on it from behind – ’

Miss Silver inclined her head.

‘Quite so. The face would be in shadow, and fair hair would be indistinguishable from grey.’

‘Yes.’

‘A little shiver ran over Katharine. She put out her hands as if to warm them. The logs in the grate sent out a comfortable glow. But the cold was inside her. She was afraid – afraid of what she was thinking, afraid of what she was saying, afraid of where it might be taking her. It mustn’t take her too far – it mustn’t, it mustn’t. And then she knew that it had already done so. Miss Silver was saying,

‘You mean that someone who had planned the attack mistook Mr. Tattlecombe for Mr. Smith. That would mean that the person who attacked him was not at all familiar either with Mr. Tattlecombe or his habits. He or she must have been expecting to see Mr. Smith. But Emily Salt would know Mr. Tattlecombe, since she had lived, for so many years with his sister. Did she at that time know Mr. Smith?’

Katharine had that distressed look again.

‘I don’t know – I don’t think so. William said he hadn’t ever seen her until Mr. Tattlecombe went to his sister’s house after he left the hospital.’

‘But Mr. Tattlecombe visited at his sister’s house. Emily Salt would have known him?’

‘Yes.’

‘Someone who knew Mr. Tattlecombe and did not know Mr. Smith might, in the circumstances, have taken Mr. Smith for Mr. Tattlecombe, but I fail to see how he could have taken Mr. Tattlecombe for Mr. Smith.’

Katharine’s hands were clasped again in her lap. Her words came in a soft hurry.

‘Then – then it couldn’t have been anything, could it? It was stupid of me to think that it could. That’s the worst of this sort of thing – it sets one’s imagination to work.’ She caught at the word and clung to it. ‘I’ve been imagining things – it was just my imagination. I quite see what you mean – it couldn’t have been anything else.’

She put a hand on the arm of her chair as if she was going to rise. A hortatory cough arrested the movement. She felt called to order. Her hand stayed where it was. She had that startled look. Yet there was nothing alarming about the question which followed the cough.

‘At the time of Mr. Tattlecombe’s accident were you already working at the Toy Bazaar?’

‘Oh, no.’

‘How long have you been there?’

‘About six weeks. I came just afterwards. They were short-handed.’

‘You answered an advertisement?’

The waters were getting deep again. Katharine said,

‘No.’

‘You were recommended – perhaps by Mr. William Smith?’

Her colour came too quickly. So did her words.

‘Oh, no – he didn’t know I existed. I just asked – if they wanted anybody.’

‘Had you any previous experience?’ said Miss Silver.

‘No, I hadn’t. I – I needed a job.’

Miss Silver smiled.

‘Pray do not think me very intrusive. I am wondering what took you to Tattlecombe’s Toy Bazaar.’