4.50 From Paddington

poor-spirited creature – always gave in. Now you're a spirited filly – a very nice filly indeed. I'll give you some advice. Don't throw yourself away on a young man. Young men are fools! You want to take care of your future. You wait…' His fingers pressed into Lucy's arm. He leaned to her ear. 'I don't say more than that. Wait. Those silly fools think I'm going to die soon. I'm not. Shouldn't be surprised if I outlived the lot of them. And then we'll see! Oh, yes, then we'll see. Harold's got no children. Cedric and Alfred aren't married. Emma – Emma will never marry now. She's a bit sweet on Quimper – but Quimper will never think of marrying Emma. There's Alexander, of course. Yes, there's Alexander… But, you know, I'm fond of Alexander… Yes, that's awkward. I'm fond of Alexander.'

He paused for a moment, frowning, then said:

'Well, girl, what about it? What about it, eh?'

'Miss Eyelesbarrow…'

Emma's voice came faintly through the closed study door. Lucy seized gratefully at the opportunity.

'Miss Crackenthorpe's calling me. I must go. Thank you so much for all you have shown me…'

'Don't forget… our secret…'

'I won't forget,' said Lucy, and hurried out into the hall not quite certain as to whether she had or had not just received a conditional proposal of marriage.

II

Dermot Craddock sat at his desk in his room at New Scotland Yard. He was slumped sideways in an easy attitude, and was talking into the telephone receiver which he held with one elbow propped up on the table. He was speaking in French, a language in which he was tolerably proficient.

'It was only an idea, you understand,' he said.

'But decidedly it is an idea,' said the voice at the other end, from the Prefecture in Paris . 'Already I have set inquiries in motion in those circles. My agent reports that he has two or three promising lines of inquiry. Unless there is some family life – or a lover, these women drop out of circulation very easily and no one troubles about them. They have gone on tour, or there is some new man – it is no one's business to ask. It is a pity that the photograph you sent me is so difficult for anyone to recognise. Strangulation, it does not improve the appearance. Still, that cannot be helped. I go now to study the latest reports of my agents on this matter. There will be, perhaps, something. Au revoir, mon cher.'

As Craddock reiterated the farewell politely, a slip of paper was placed before him on the desk. It read:

Miss Emma Crackenthorpe.

To see Detective-Inspector Craddock.

Rutherford Hall case.

He replaced the receiver and said to the police constable:

'Bring Miss Crackenthorpe up.'

As he waited, he leaned back in his chair, thinking.

So he had not been mistaken – there was something that Emma Crackenthorpe knew – not much, perhaps, but something. And she had decided to tell him.

He rose to his feet as she was shown in, shook hands, settled her in a chair and offered her a cigarette which she refused.

Then there was a momentary pause. She was trying, he decided, to find just the words she wanted. He leaned forward.

'You have come to tell me something, Miss Crackenthorpe? Can I help you? You've been worried about something, haven't you? Some little thing, perhaps, that you feel probably has nothing to do with the case, but on the other hand, just might be related to it. You've come here to tell me about it, haven't you? It's to do, perhaps, with the identity of the dead woman. You think you know who she was?'

'No, no, not quite that. I think really it's most unlikely. But –'

'But there is some possibility that worries you. You'd better tell me about it – because we may be able to set your mind at rest.'

Emma took a moment or two before speaking. Then she said:

'You have seen three of my brothers. I had another brother, Edmund, who was killed in the war. Shortly before he was killed, he wrote to me from France .'

She opened her handbag and took out a worn and faded letter. She read from it:

'I hope this won't be a shock to you, Emmie, but I'm getting married – to a French girl. It's all been very sudden – but I know you'll be fond of Martine – and look after her if anything happens to me. Will write you all the details in my next – by which time I shall be a married man. Break it gently to the old man, won't you? He'll probably go up in smoke.'

Inspector Craddock held out a hand. Emma hesitated, then put the letter into it. She went on, speaking rapidly.

'Two days after receiving this letter, we had a telegram saying Edmund was missing, believed killed. Later he was definitely reported killed. It was just before Dunkirk – and a time of great confusion. There was no Army record, as far as I could find out, of his having been married – but as I say, it was a confused time. I never heard anything from the girl. I tried, after the war, to make some inquiries, but I only knew her Christian name and that part of France had been occupied by the Germans and it was difficult to find out anything, without knowing the girl's surname and more about her. In the end I assumed that the marriage had never taken place and that the girl had probably married someone else before the end of the war, or might possibly herself have been killed.'

Inspector Craddock nodded. Emma went on.

'Imagine my surprise to receive a letter just about a month ago, signed Martine Crackenthorpe.'

'You have it?'

Emma took it from her bag and handed it to him. Craddock read it with interest.

It was written in a slanting French hand – an educated hand.

Dear Mademoiselle,

I hope it will not be a shock to you to get this letter. I do not even know if your brother Edmund told you that we were married. He said he was going to do so. He was killed only a few days after our marriage and at the same time the Germans occupied our village. After the war ended, I decided that I would not write to you or approach you, though Edmund had told me to do so. But by then I had made a new life for myself, and it was not necessary. But now things have changed. For my son's sake I write this letter. He is your brother's son, you see, and I – I can no longer give him the advantages he ought to have. I am coming to England early next week.

Will you let me know if I can come and see you? My address for letters is 126 Elvers Crescent , No.10. I hope again this will not be the great shock to you.

I remain with assurance of my excellent sentiments,

Martine Crackenthorpe

Craddock was silent for a moment or two. He reread the letter carefully before handing it back.

'What did you do on receipt of this letter, Miss Crackenthorpe?'

'My brother-in-law, Bryan Eastley, happened to be staying with me at the time and I talked to him about it. Then I rang up my brother Harold in London and consulted him about it. Harold was rather sceptical about the whole thing and advised extreme caution. We must, he said, go carefully into this woman's credentials.'

Emma paused and then went on:

'That, of course, was only common sense and I quite agreed. But if this girl – woman – was really the Martine about whom Edmund had written to me, I felt that we must make her welcome. I wrote to the address she gave in her letters, inviting her to come down to Rutherford Hall and meet us. A few days later I received a telegram from London : Very sorry forced to return to France unexpectedly. Martine. There was no further letter or news of any kind.'

'All this took place – when?' Emma frowned.

'It was shortly before Christmas. I know, because I wanted to suggest her spending Christmas with us – but my father would not hear of it – so I suggested she should come down the weekend after Christmas while the