“And that made you suspect her?” She did not reply for a moment. Then she said, “I thought she was rather more agitated than she need have been, and there was the connection with Little Poynton. Then after Connie’s death and Colonel Repton’s she was one of the four people who had to be very seriously considered- Mrs. Repton, Miss Eccles, Miss Wayne, and Mr. Barton. If it had only been Colonel Repton’s death that was in question, Mrs. Repton must certainly have been arrested, but her connection with the other two deaths was slight, and in the case of Connie Brooke it is difficult to see what opportunity she could have had of drugging the cocoa. Miss Eccles, Miss Wayne, and Mr. Barton all had this opportunity, but I may say at once that I never really suspected Mr. Barton. His only motive, as well as that of Miss Eccles and Miss Renie, must have been fear of being identified as the writer of the letters. But after my interview with Miss Pell it was clear that the scrap of paper which would have identified this person had been picked up in one of the houses visited by Doris Pell on the afternoon before she was drowned. Those houses were the Manor, Willow Cottage where she called on Miss Wayne, Holly Cottage where she saw Miss Eccles, and the Croft where she saw and to some extent confided in Connie Brooke who had been her childhood’s playmate and companion. She certainly could not visit Mr. Barton whose door was never opened to a woman. I therefore dismissed him from my mind.”

“And you did not really suspect Scilla Repton. Why?” Again she was silent for a moment. She finished her cup of tea and set it back upon the tray.

“There was the question of the cocoa, and then-these things are difficult to put into words. There are impressions so slight, so indefinite, that one is scarcely aware of them, yet as one constantly succeeds another a picture is built up. Mrs. Repton struck me as unaware of being in any danger. She was conscious of having offended against the moral law, and aggressively impatient of that law and of the consequences which this breach was bringing down upon her. But she did not seem to me to be at all aware of any possible relation between herself and the criminal law, or of the consequences which it might have in store. She was brazening out the exposure of her intrigue with Mr. Earle, she was angry and resentful over the change in her husband’s will, and she was a good deal more shocked at his death than she was willing to admit. She was in fact a vain, selfish, idle and undisciplined young woman who found herself in uncongenial surroundings and snatched at anything which would alleviate her boredom, but in my opinion she would not have gone out of her way to write the anonymous letters, and she would not have poisoned her husband. And, as everyone is now aware, she did not do so.”

“And there was no one else at the Manor who could have filled the bill?”

“Oh, no. Miss Maggie is a gentle person, not very strong, not very efficient, but full of kindness, and Valentine Grey is a very charming girl. There is a good deal of sweetness in her character, and her principles are good.”

He laughed.

“Well, she’ll need the sweetness. Jason is an odd fish.”

Miss Silver smiled indulgently.

“They have known one another from childhood and are very deeply attached.”

“Well, so much for James Barton and the Manor. That left you with the occupants of three more houses.”

She shook her head reprovingly.

“Oh, no-with only two. The third house would be the Croft, and Connie Brooke who lived alone there was herself a victim. I was left with two possible suspects, Miss Eccles and Miss Wayne. Either of them could have met Doris Pell and pushed her into the pond, since either could have known that she was going up to the Manor that evening with Miss Maggie’s blouse. Either could have drugged Connie Brooke’s cocoa, Miss Wayne by slipping round to the Croft while Connie was at the Manor, and Miss Eccles by seeing her the whole way home instead of saying goodnight at the gate of Holly Cottage. Either could have introduced the cyanide into Colonel Repton’s whisky, Miss Eccles when she took him in his tea, and Miss Wayne by slipping out of the drawing-room and making an opportunity of entering the study. As you probably know, she prides herself on how cleverly she managed this. Miss Maggie having handed over to me the anonymous letter which she herself had received, I tore off a corner of the page and produced what I hoped was a passable imitation of the scrap of paper picked up by Doris Pell. After some experimenting with a pointed match dipped in ink, my suspicion that the letters had been written in this manner was confirmed. I wrote the first part of the word Tilling upon my torn-off corner and took it with me when I went down to Holly Cottage with a basket of fruit from Miss Maggie. I believed that the sight of that piece of paper in my possession could hardly fail to produce a strong reaction in the person who had seen such a piece in the possession of Doris Pell, and who had, I was sure, committed murder in order to suppress this damning evidence. Miss Eccles’ reaction was an open and natural one. She is a person with an extremely active and inquisitive mind. In spite of her state of grief she showed a very lively curiosity as to how I had come by this piece of evidence. Miss Wayne’s behaviour was very different. If she had not already betrayed herself by her complaint that she considered the cat Abimelech to be unsafe because he was in the habit of growling at her, the marked change which came over her when she saw my piece of paper would have done so. The shock, followed by my statement that I believed a piece of paper like this had brought Doris Pell to her death, and that Miss Wayne had seen it in her hand as she was now seeing it in mine, was sufficient to break her down. She could no longer control her fear, her anger, or the insensate pride which the criminal feels in his achievement. By the time that the police arrived her condition was plainly one of insanity. She must have been an anxiety to her sister for years. The elder Miss Wayne seems to have known that it was Miss Renie who was responsible for the affair of the anonymous letters at Little Poynton five years ago.”

Frank Abbott said,

“There were two suicides then. Miss Wayne should have told what she knew.”

Miss Silver had picked up her knitting. The rich red of Ethel Burkett’s cardigan lay in her lap, the green needles moved briskly. She said,

“Three lives would have been saved had she done so, all good, all useful. But few people are prepared to subordinate their private feelings to their public duty.”

Memorizing this as a vintage example of what he irreverently termed Maudie’s Moralities, Frank brought a lighter tone to the conversation by enquiring after the health of the cat Abimelech.

“I don’t know how many of his nine lives he had used up already, but the gas cupboard must have drawn pretty heavily on any that remained.”

Miss Silver smiled.

“He is the youngest of the cats, which accounts for his having been so foolish as to be lured through the hedge by the offer of a piece of mackerel, a fish of which he is inordinately fond. Miss Renie is very proud of the manner in which she trapped him by placing the mackerel in an old carpet-bag which could be closed by pulling on a string. Those bags have quite gone out now, but they were very capacious and the opening was strongly reinforced by a metal bar. I have no doubt that Abimelech fought to free himself, but with Miss Renie on the watch he had no chance. But he is quite himself again now, and received me in a very friendly manner when I called on Mr. Barton before leaving Tilling Green.”

“You called on Barton? My dear ma’am, you don’t mean to say he let you in!”

Miss Silver smiled benignantly.

“He did indeed. He made me a most excellent cup of tea and introduced all the cats.”