“She was very quiet and docile. Her nature was gentle, and, I would have said, good.”
“Have you altered that opinion, then?”
“It cannot be good to contravene the will of God,” the young nun answered sadly.
“I am here to try to establish that the child did not take her own life. I am interested to know that you at least concede the possibility of suicide. Were you present at the inquest?”
“No, I was not.”
“Which nuns were present?‘ ’
“Sister Saint Ambrose, Sister Saint Jude, Sister Saint Francis and Reverend Mother Superior.”
“Anyone else from the convent?”
“No one. That is, Miss Bonnet was there to witness to the finding of the—of the child.”
“Nobody else? None of the lay-sisters?”
“Nobody else, so far as I know.”
“How do you come to know what happened?”
“Sister Saint Francis, with the permission of Reverend Mother Superior, told us, before morning school on the day of the inquest, what had happened. Later we were told of the verdict given by the coroner.”
“Do all the nuns teach?”
“Yes, except for Reverend Mother Superior. Sister Saint Francis is the headmistress, and so does not do as much teaching as the rest, but she is always in school. Sister Saint Ambrose, who is matron of the Orphanage, and Sister Saint Jude, who is kitchener and hospitaller, do no teaching, ordinarily, in the private school.”
“And I suppose I am keeping you from your teaching now?”
“I have set the top form an essay. They will not be idle.”
By this time they had reached the convent gatehouse. Here Annie was waiting to conduct Mrs. Bradley again to the guest-house parlour.
“Good-bye, then, Mother Mary-Joseph,” said Mrs. Bradley. “Thank you for answering my questions.” The young nun bowed and smiled. Mrs. Bradley passed through the gate, but paused beside the lay-sister who came out and pushed it open.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I am lay-sister Magdalene.”
“And do you always keep this gate shut?”
“Shut, yes, but not locked until sunset. But I come down now and open it for everybody who goes through, because we think
“Are you the only person who keeps this gate?”
“Why, yes.” She seemed not in the least puzzled by this persistent questioning, but still smiled as she closed the convent gates behind Mrs. Bradley and Annie.
“Now, Annie,” said Mrs. Bradley, when they were again in the parlour, “I want you to show me the bathroom in which the child was found.”
The guest-house was nothing more than three detached houses, built originally for private purchase, but now made into one by means of covered ways which joined them together. Next to them were two more houses, and these were still occupied by private families unconnected with the convent. Annie led the way across the hall, up some stairs to a landing, and then pointed.
“That’s the one, madam. That’s the bathroom where she was found.”
“Are you afraid to go in?”
“No, madam, not in the least.”
“What did you do whilst Bessie had gone running along for Mother Saint Ambrose and Mother Saint Jude?”
“I stayed where I was with Miss Bonnet.”
“Where was that? Will you stand in the same place again?”
Annie walked a couple of paces forward.
“It would have been here, madam.”
“Now tell me where I should stand, supposing I had been Miss Bonnet.”
“Forward of me, madam, not quite so near the door. She went bursting in, do you see, and came bursting out again.”
“What, once again, did she say?”
“She began with an oath, madam. Do you order me to repeat it?”
“Just as you like.”
“She said, ‘Good God! Annie, run and get someone! I’m not going to touch her! I can’t!’ ”
“Now, look here, Annie, I want you to think very carefully for a minute. I have in my notes”—she turned back the pages—“that when Miss Bonnet came out of the bathroom she did not scream out; she merely said, ‘Annie,
