“She loved evil. It fascinated her, I think.”
“She had her punishment,” said Mrs. Bradley, seriously. “She found out that Meg Tosstick was with child, and she guessed that it was her own husband who had seduced the girl.”
“Didn’t she know for certain?” I asked.
“Not until the birth of the child, I think. The resemblance then was unmistakable. Some new-born babies bear a most extraordinary resemblance to one of their progenitors, as I said; this resemblance tends to become less marked as the child grows older. I am sure that Meg did not confess, and I don’t think Mr. Coutts was very likely to do so, was he?”
“His life was pretty much of a hell as it was,” said I. “I don’t suppose he wanted to make matters worse.”
“Yes, it must be hell to be compelled to lead the existence of a monk when one’s urge for procreation is very strong,” said Mrs. Bradley. “That was the trouble, of course.”
“But surely—” I said awkwardly, lacking her beautifully scientific detachment—“Cora McCanley, I mean—”
“Oh, Mr. Coutts was not Cora McCanley’s mysterious lover,” said Mrs. Bradley. “Nor was Sir William Kingston- Fox.” She smiled wickedly at me. I could have kicked myself for jumping to conclusions. “Don’t you remember telling me what a long holiday Mr. Bransome Burns was spending in these parts?” she said. “Burns was a financier. That, to the impecunious Cora, meant a good deal, of course. She had dug enough money out of Burns to go for that jaunt to London that I spoke about, and had made up her mind to go. Then, as I told you— only you were convinced I was talking about Sir William—Burns telephoned to put her off, and she arranged to hoodwink Burt, and, later, return to the Bungalow. The idea of deceiving Burt, with whom she had quarrelled violently, appealed to Cora, just as I said before, and the story I told of her return and the manner of it was also true. I don’t know how long she had been at the Bungalow waiting for Burns, who couldn’t get away from you all on the seashore that night, when Mrs. Coutts arrived by way of the underground passage
I nodded, and shuddered, of course; I remembered how I myself had picked up that poker once with the intention of knocking out Burt with it.
“And, of course, if anybody had seen Mrs. Coutts on her way back from the Bungalow that evening, she had her reason ready. She pretended she had gone out to look for you all and persuade you to come home, didn’t she? Do you remember that? Only, she gave the wrong time, I expect, to her husband. She went to the Bungalow much earlier than she said, and she had to race back to the inn to get hold of Lowry and tell him he must remove Cora’s body.”
“I remember how fearfully knocked out she was on that Tuesday night,” I said. “It’s a wonder her heart stood the strain of the two murders, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes and no,” said Mrs. Bradley. “She probably considered that she was doing the will of God in ridding the earth of what she considered to be two dreadfully depraved and wicked people. She knew that Cora was an actress, and she knew that the vicar had yielded to temptation in the form of Meg Tosstick. She grew suspicious even of little Daphne, you remember, and it is a very good thing, Noel, that you were sentimental enough to mount guard over the girl as you did. Of course, as the mania took root, there is no doubt that she would have considered herself a crusader against all sexual intercourse. She was the wrong age, my dear Noel, to make the discovery that her husband had deceived her. It was an awful tragedy, that meaningless death of poor Cora McCanley.”
“Do you think Coutts will get over it?” I asked.
“Yes, when the trial of Lowry is over, I am sure he will,” said Mrs. Bradley. “He’s had a shock, but it isn’t as though he was fond of her, you see.”
“Then how
“He was paid by Mr. Coutts to look after Meg Tosstick,” said Mrs. Bradley, “and I think it was his own idea, not Mrs. Coutts’, to change the bodies of the two girls when she had made him drag the body of Cora to the inn. Do you realise he had no alibi (except that supplied by his sister) after the bar opened on that Tuesday evening?”
“And the baby?” I said.
“Oh,” said Mrs. Bradley, “the baby is alive somewhere, I have no doubt. Mrs. Coutts wanted to kill it, I expect, but found she couldn’t. Women are strangely inhibited from killing children, Noel, my dear.”
APPENDIX
mrs. bradley’s notebook
« ^
Sir William fulfilled boyhood promise of good looks and uncontrolled temper. I like the daughter. A very charming child. But why on earth does the man propose to marry her to Bransome Burns? Burns is keen on the match. Horrible!
