“You have come to help us, I hope. Miss Danesworth and I are old acquaintances. It is very pleasant to meet her again, but I wish, as she does, that the circumstances were of a less tragic nature.”

Richard said, “Yes.” And then, “My aunt has told you what we know?”

“I think so. You did not see Miriam Richardson at all that evening?”

Richard looked her straight in the eyes.

“No, I did not see her. I gather that she came here to see me and waited for some time. Then suddenly she looked at the clock and said she could not wait any longer. She said, ‘Tell Richard I want to see him, will you? Not tonight-I’m doing something else. But if he’d like to he can come round in the morning.’ That’s right, isn’t it?” He turned to Miss Danesworth.

“Yes, it was just like that, and she was out of the door before either of us could answer her. She gave me the impression that she was afraid of being late for an appointment.”

“Miss Forbes was in the room?”

Miss Danesworth said, “Yes, Jenny was here.”

“Then perhaps I might see her-”

“Oh, yes.”

Miss Danesworth was quite calm again. Looking at her, it seemed impossible that a momentary turn of speech should have brought her to the verge of breaking down. Miss Silver discerned compassionately that it was Richard for whom she had feared-Richard who was the weak point in her amour. She remembered what she had heard from Mrs. Lucius Bellingdon- “She lost the man whom she was engaged to in the war, and then her sister and brother-in-law. They were killed in a car crash-or an air raid, I forget which. She took their boy and has brought him up splendidly. He is in the Army-a very nice fellow, about five-and-twenty.”

Miss Danesworth had gone to the door. She opened it and called, “Jenny!”

Miss Silver understood. Jenny was not to be biased. She was to come and answer whatever Miss Silver cared to ask her.

Jenny came in.

“This is Miss Silver. She wants to ask you about Miriam’s visit on Saturday.”

Jenny stood there. She didn’t understand. She looked at Richard, and then back at Miss Silver.

“Miriam? She came here to see Richard. How much do you want?”

“All of it, I think, my dear.”

Jenny stood there. She repeated that last conversation with Miriam. She was rather pale, but she had herself well in hand. Richard watched her all the time. When she came to where Miriam looked at the clock, her tone altered. She said,

“She looked at the clock suddenly, and she said, ‘Is that right?’ Miss Danesworth said, ‘It keeps excellent time,’ and Miriam said, ‘Oh-then I must go. Tell Richard I want to see him, will you? Not tonight-I’m doing something else. But if he’d like to he can come round in the morning.’ And she was out of the door almost before she had finished speaking. That’s all. We-we didn’t see her again.”

Frank Abbott came in on that. He was very much on duty, and he took Miss Silver away as soon as possible. It wasn’t until they were in the car that he relaxed.

“Well?” he said. “Did you have a satisfactory visit?”

“I think so, Frank. Are you taking me to see Jimmy Mottingley?”

“I will if you would like me to. It would probably make things easier for you.”

Miss Silver gave him a warmly sympathetic look.

“That is indeed kind. I shall be most grateful.”

“Well, how did it go? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

“I think that you should not ask me, but I will tell you. The thing that struck me when I asked to see the young girl, Jenny Forbes, was that Miss Danesworth went to the door and called for her. She wished me, I think, to understand that she was not putting words into her mouth. Jenny Forbes gave me an account of the dead girl’s visit which was practically identical with what Miss Danesworth had already told me. The important thing about both these accounts was that they represent Miriam Richardson as looking at the clock suddenly and asking if it was right. Miss Danesworth said yes, it was, and Miriam said, ‘Then I must go. Tell Richard I want to see him, will you? Not tonight-I’m doing something else. But if he’d like to, he can come round in the morning.’ In my opinion this definitely contradicts any idea that it was Richard Forbes whom she was expecting to meet.”

Frank Abbott threw her a sharp look.

“That had occurred to you?”

“Yes.”

“And you regard it as a wash-out?”

“My dear Frank!”

He laughed.

“Language to be expressive must be, shall we say, apt.”

“You may, and do, say what you like as long as you do not attribute your slang expressions to me.”

He laughed.

“Oh, that was it, was it? I retract and apologize.”

They came into Colborough half an hour later. Miss Silver had been silent for the greater part of the way. A good deal would depend upon what she thought of Jimmy Mottingley. His father’s trust in him might not be justified. She was very well aware of the turns and twists possible to a man’s conscience. Mr. Mottingley appeared to be under no illusions with regard to his son-but there were reservations in all of us. He could admit the utmost culpability in one direction whilst strenuously denying it in another. She thought that she would know when she saw Jimmy whether she could take his case or not. To justify the guilty was a role she would not undertake. She remained abstracted during the drive, and Frank respected her silence.

When they had arrived at the prison she left the talking to Frank Abbott. He was an old friend of the Governor’s, and the way was smoothed for her. She was shown into a light, bare room with a long table and a chair at either end of it. Presently a warder came in with Jimmy Mottingley, whom he escorted to the chair at the opposite end of the table, and when Jimmy had seated himself, the warder withdrew to the door, paused there for a moment to say, “I’ll just be outside if you want me, madam,” and withdrew. The upper portion of the door being of glass, they were still under observation, but they could not be overheard.

Miss Silver turned back to the table, and to Jimmy Mottingley at the other end of it. She saw a boyish looking young man, fair haired and blue eyed, the kind of youth who in any average family would be rather a spoiled child. She wondered whether Mr. Mottingley had been as firm with his son as he declared.

And then Jimmy Mottingley was looking at her with a kind of bravado and saying,

“Why have you come?”

Miss Silver did not answer him for a moment. She looked at him, and saw the signs of weakness, the signs of pain. That the boy was on the verge of a breakdown was obvious. She smiled reassuringly and said,

“I have come at your father’s request to try and help you.”

He laughed.

“At my father’s request! Do you know what he thinks? He thinks I did it. He sat there and lectured me. He said he would pay for my defence, but I mustn’t imagine that I would get off the punishment due to me. And he talked about God’s law which couldn’t be broken with impunity.”

Miss Silver said with cornposure, “Mr. Mottingley, I do not think that you understood your father… No, one minute, please. You must try to control yourself, or we shall be interrupted. The warder on the other side of that door will only remain where he is whilst you conform to the regulations. If he has any reason to suppose that you are becoming violent he will feel it his duty to come in, and you will be taken away to your cell again. I must beg of you to preserve calm.”

Jimmy stared at her. He shuddered and said in a whisper,

“Calm- Oh, my God! Do you know what it is like to be suspected of the one thing on earth that you could never do? Do you know what it’s like?”

“I can only know what you tell me. Would you like to go back to last Saturday, and to tell me just what happened?”