“We’re coming to it at last,” said Mrs. Bradley. “All right, Mary. Don’t begin to cry. You thought you were poisoned, didn’t you? And now, what made you think that?”
“Ulrica gave me some sweets.”
“Ulrica? Where did she get them?”
“She said that Mother Saint Gregory had given them to her. They were a kind of dark, awful yellow—very sinister. They tasted perfectly horrid, and I was nervous—because of Ursula, you know.”
“Have you any of them left?”
“Yes, one.”
“Good girl. Where is it?”
“In my needlework bag. It’s collected up in Mother Saint Cyprian’s cupboard. I’ll get it for you next needlework lesson if you want it.”
“How many did you eat?”
“Well, I ate three. I thought at first that the taste was simply peculiar, and that I might like it better if I persevered.”
“Had Ulrica given you any directions about eating the sweets, I wonder?”
“Yes. She said not to guzzle them all at once. I thought she was just being nasty. I know I’m greedy. I always confess to the sin of greed, but I don’t seem to get any better. I’m always hungry, that’s all. I don’t really
“Neither does a cormorant,” said Mrs. Bradley, laughing. “Well, what happened next?”
“Well, my inside went funny,” said Mary, delicately, “so I told the girls I was sick, which doesn’t sound quite so awful. And then I
“What?”
“How easy it would be for Ulrica if I was out of the way. There’d be nobody then to go to New York and get grandfather’s money instead of her having it all.”
“So you suspect that your cousin tried to murder you?”
“Well, I didn’t exactly
“Very sensible and commendable,” said Mrs. Bradley, nodding. Mary looked very uncomfortable. “I don’t want to get Ulrica into trouble,” she said.
“You won’t,” Mrs. Bradley promised her. “I will be the soul of discretion. I think we shall find that the sweets were merely brimstone and treacle tablets. Mother Saint Gregory provided them, you say?”
She was more immediately concerned with clothing than with sweets, and, upon leaving Mary, went to find Sister Genevieve. The lay-sister matron brought out the garments which had been found in the bathroom and brought the tape-measure which Mrs. Bradley also demanded. The clothes were as Mother Jude had described— torn and damaged. The rather long grey drill-tunic was black with soot from the roof. All the garments were marked with the owner’s name-tab, U. DOYLE, sewn on with tiny stitches.
chapter 20
george
walt whitman: Stray Thoughts.
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George came back at half-past ten with the car, and Mrs. Bradley was notified of his arrival whilst she was still examining the clothing. George had brought a note from Ferdinand. Mrs. Bradley, standing at the door of the guest-house in the thin spring sunshine, read it, then read it again.
“Arrived safely in Wandles. Celestine all ready to receive us. Ulrica asks whether there is any objection to her going to New York to visit her grandfather, since she has been taken away from school. Says she thinks her relatives would give permission, if you think she would be safe. Let me know what you feel.”
“So you arrived safely, George?” said Mrs. Bradley, looking at him with grandmotherly affection.
“Yes, madam.”
It sounded noncommittal, and Mrs. Bradley was intrigued. She pressed the point.
“Quite safely, and in good time?”
“We were delayed a half-hour or so, madam, on account of the young lady’s injury.”
“Good heavens, George! My son has not mentioned her injury. What was its nature and location?”
“I am at a loss how to answer you, madam.”
“Very well. Tell the whole tale. Come inside. There’s nobody here. We can talk in guilty secrecy.”
She led the way into the dining-room where the cloth was spread but the table not set, and motioned him into a chair. George waited until she was seated, and then, with his peaked cap held between his knees, and his feet set
