“Certainly. I looked to see whether the pilot light of the geyser had been turned off.”
“Had it?”
“Yes, quite securely.”
“But had not the guest-house fence been coated with creosote?”
“Oh!” said both nuns, as though this point had escaped them.
“Tell me, please,” said Mrs. Bradley, as though she had decided not to labour it, “about the guest-house towels.”
“The guest-house towels are distinctive,” said Mother Jude, “and the wet towel seems to have come from one of the rooms. The towels are striped in blue and white, and carry the name of the convent, ‘Sisters of St. Peter in Perpetuity,’ embroidered in red across the corner.”
“Was the wet towel mentioned at the inquest?”
“It seemed of no importance.”
“No? Yet surely that towel might have changed the verdict from suicide to accident? Would a suicide take a towel?”
“I don’t believe it would have helped to get the verdict altered,” Mother Jude sadly interposed. “People do so many things from habit.”
“Yet Mother Saint Ambrose said, a short while ago that she was not astonished to find no towels in the bathroom. That, in her opinion and according to her experience, children were feckless beings whose common sense could never be relied on. Perhaps, however, you are right. The towel makes a small point only, although an interesting one. There is one thing more; what happened when you found that it was impossible to resuscitate the child?”
“Miss Bonnet and the doctor went to have another look at the bathroom, which Annie, by then, had tidied. Sister Saint Ambrose and I went together to Sister Saint Francis to let her know what had occurred. Annie and Bessie were told to remain in the kitchen until they received other instructions, and on no account to let anyone know what had happened.
“Did you speak to the doctor again before the inquest?”
“Yes, he returned with the police.”
“That seems an extraordinary thing.”
“He was frank with us. He said that, although he could smell gas when he went into the bathroom with Miss Bonnet—although, now you have mentioned the creosote, it might have been that—he could detect nothing wrong with the water-heater—he is quite a practical man—and that the circumstances needed explaining.”
“He refused to sign the death certificate, then?”
The two nuns bowed their heads.
“And what view did the policeman take?” asked Mrs. Bradley. Mother Jude smiled.
“He did not confide in us. He took notes, and was exceedingly nervous, and addressed Reverend Mother Superior throughout the conversation as ‘Your Worship.’ He wiped his boots, too, which we thought was nice of him.”
“And when did the demonstration take place?”
“On Saturday night,” Mother Ambrose answered. “We were disturbed after dark by a number of wild young men from neighbouring villages.”
“Were the gates locked?”
“Fortunately they were. Bessie very bravely volunteered to go for help. She has good qualities although she lacks self-control.”
“You did not let her go?”
“We did,” replied Mother Jude. “I myself assisted in helping her over the west wall so that she could get past the attackers without being seen.”
“It was thought best,” said Mother Ambrose, “that she shoud go with our assistance and permission rather than that she should be led into the sin of disobedience.”
“When once the idea had occurred to her, she would have gone in any case,” said Mother Jude, simplifying the other nun’s statement.
“I see,” said Mrs. Bradley. “And did she obtain assistance?”
“No. No one would come to our help. It proved impossible to wake the village policeman.”
This was not news to Mrs. Bradley, who had heard as much from the chambermaid at the inn, and she remarked: “So the policeman who wiped his boots was not the village policeman?”
“No. He was a man from Kelsorrow. The doctor lives in Kelsorrow, and telephoned from here to the police station. He knows the inspector there.”
“I see. Thank you, both of you. You have been most kind and patient.”
“You will doubtless, as you suggested, go next to see Sister Saint Francis,” Mother Ambrose suggested.
“I think so. Are you going that way? Shall we all three walk together?”
The nuns were bound respectively for the Orphanage and for the convent kitchen, so, Mother Ambrose stately as a cassowary, Mother Jude like a cheerful, plump little robin, and Mrs. Bradley a hag-like pterodactyl, they proceeded, at the religious pace, to the gatehouse to enter the grounds.
