conversation.
‘I am glad to obtain that address,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘I want to confirm the impression of the police that your husband could have had nothing to do with Miss Murchan’s disappearance.’
‘I don’t see why the police should have any impression about it one way or the other, but, as a matter of fact, and to save you trouble, I can tell you that my husband came out of the mental hospital last June, on the tenth of the month. I don’t know when Miss Murchan disappeared, so I don’t know whether, if he’d wanted to have a hand in her disappearance, he could have done so.’
‘I see,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘You blame the school, Mrs Princep, I know, for what happened. Do you happen to know whether your husband particularly blamed Miss Murchan?’
‘I don’t think he did, but I do know Miss Murchan promised to tell us a piece of news about it. She said she knew, and she supposed we knew, who was responsible.’
‘But she didn’t give any name?’
‘We asked her — pressed her — but she declared it wasn’t necessary. She said we must know whom she meant, and that, if we agreed, she’d take her story to the police. She said they’d know what to do.’
‘Does that mean you refused to allow her to go to the police?’
‘Oh, no. And I think she did go. What we couldn’t understand was why she suddenly left the school.’
‘And Miss Paynter-Tree, too. Still, I suppose there was felt to be some responsibility there.’
‘Responsibility!’ said the woman, with extreme bitterness. ‘Well, you can use that word by all means. Anyhow, I know what I think.’
‘We are coming to something,’ thought Mrs Bradley. ‘What
‘Why, that those responsible for bringing the poor child into the world took the liberty of putting her out of it.’
‘Oh?’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘And that means…?’
But Mrs Princep was not prepared to amplify her opinion. She closed her thin lips, and then suddenly opened them again to add, apparently irrelevantly, ‘I’ve been married three times, you know.’
‘What I don’t understand at all,’ said Mrs Bradley, perceiving that Mrs Princep was not prepared to volunteer any explanation of this last remark, ‘is how the child came to be in school so late. It was surely very unusual.’
‘Thinking as I do,’ said the grandmother, ‘I’m sure the poor mite was decoyed.’
‘By the murderer, you mean, if one accepts your opinion. An opinion, I may add, which I share and which the police are beginning to investigate.’
‘Are they? Are they really?’
‘So, you see, you can speak freely to me on the subject.’
‘Yes,’ said the woman, ‘I see that. My husband was very fond of the child,’ she added. ‘Of course, he never realized who she was.’
‘Are you sure of that? You mean she was the child of one of your sons or daughters, don’t you?’
‘Illegitimate,’ said Mrs Princep, tightening her lips more than ever. ‘I had a daughter by each of my previous marriages. The younger girl went wrong, and the other would have done, too, given half a chance. Of course I couldn’t have them in the house. My husband doesn’t even know I’ve got two daughters. I never told him. I’d been widowed for nearly ten years when he married me, and the girls had left home long before.’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure he doesn’t know you have two daughters,’ thought Mrs Bradley. Aloud she asked: ‘Wasn’t the mother fond of the child? Was she willing for you to take it?’
‘It would have ruined her career. I had to have it. I told my husband it was an orphan I’d adopted. It was only five when we married. Of course, he may have found out about it later. The elder girl may have let him know. They couldn’t stand one another. Yet they took posts together to be able to see the child, and watched one another like cats. The father of the child was by way of being engaged to the elder one, Blanche, you see, and then, when Doris bore the child —!’
‘Yes,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘An old story, isn’t it? But now, if you’ll forgive me for asking, can you tell me whether your husband had had any of his attacks previous to the inquest?’
‘Oh, yes. He had spent two years in a mental home before I married him. I knew that. I liked him none the worse for it.’
With this oddly-worded statement she seemed to have finished all that she had to say on the subject.
‘One more question, and then I’ll go,’ said Mrs Bradley gently. ‘Did the child’s mother believe that the child had been murdered?’
‘She had the best reason of anybody to believe it, as I told you,’ Mrs Princep replied. Mrs Bradley, digesting all the implications of Mrs Princep’s illuminating remarks, and also this one, which seemed a trifle obscure, she felt, went off on her third errand.
‘Mental hospital?’ said the local reporter. ‘Yes, he did. But if you want my candid opinion, he was as sane as I am. Eyewash, to get public sympathy. Been some scandal about him at some time, I should imagine. The wife hushed it up, but, hang it, there was the kid. What were people to think? She said she had adopted it, and, of course, they’ve only lived in the town about four years. But you know how people gossip, and some of it followed them here. It’s certain the child was illegitimate.’
‘That wouldn’t necessarily prove that it was his,’ Mrs Bradley retorted.
‘No. But why did he throw that fit at the inquest, then? Gave things away, people thought. Of course, people love a bit of scandal, but, after all, no smoke without fire. Anyway, into the bin he went, and was discharged last June. I interviewed him on the subject of his experiences. No good. Merely got a flea in my ear. Couldn’t stand the fellow, anyway. Unwholesome old devil, I thought him.’
