‘Since then she’s turned round on Arthur P-H, though, and would like to kill him,’ said Laura. ‘Inversions, and so forth, I take it. Ah, yes, I get it all now.’
‘I don’t know whether you do,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘Think it over, and don’t be misled. I have had no reason to alter my opinion that Connie would rather die than harm that boy. She does not, of course, feel the same about Mr Tidson.’
‘Why are you keeping her more or less of a prisoner? And why have we got to have her with us for a bit?’
‘Well, I’m afraid for Connie. She is not, in one sense, completely responsible for her actions.’
‘But isn’t she going to start a job, or something?’
‘I only wish I thought so! Now, before we leave Winchester, there is one thing I would very much like to do.’
‘Set that man free. He’s bound to be let go, though. They can’t pin anything on him.’
‘He’s a strong-willed fellow,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘He’s fond of his wife, I think, and doesn’t want to hurt her unnecessarily.’
‘So he gets himself arrested for murder on the word of that awful Grier woman! Can’t see much chivalry in that!’
‘I think he may have chosen the lesser of the two evils. But my lawyer is going to try to get at him.’
‘Ferguson?’
‘Yes. He has had one interview already. It was abortive. Here is Ferguson’s report. It is just what I had expected. Never mind! He will try again.’
Laura opened the envelope which Mrs Bradley handed her.
‘He won’t see me. He won’t see anybody,’ wrote Mr Ferguson. ‘He says he does not wish to be legally represented; that he did not commit the murder, and that the police can fry in hell.’
‘Well, that’s that,’ said Laura, folding up Mr Ferguson and handing him back. ‘Now what?’
‘Now we do what I have been waiting to do – but we could not do it whilst the Tidsons were here – we interview the young woman who is the cause of all the trouble.’
‘The naiad?’
‘No. The missing sweetheart. The woman that this stupid, chivalrous Potter really
‘Oh!’ said Laura. ‘What a hope!’
‘Of finding her, do you mean? I have every hope. She has a jealous husband or cruel parents, she is known to Mrs Grier, and she may have left Winchester since the murder of little Grier.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I
‘I think I understand. She was with Potter on the night and at the time of the murder. She has been too scared, because of husband or parents, to come forward and give the chap his alibi, and, because she’s a coward (as aforesaid) she’s cut and run. Is that it?’
‘And very plainly stated, except that she may not have left Winchester.’
‘But what about Potter? Isn’t he a fool not to name her? Is that where the chivalry comes in?’
‘Yes. But there are other points as well. I should think he’s been expecting her to come forward, and his despairing reception of Mr Ferguson shows that he no longer thinks she will. He hasn’t brought the subject up himself for two reasons: first, he loves his wife, but rather as a son loves his mother. He doesn’t want to upset her more than she’s been upset already. It has upset her to believe that he was involved with the odious but middle- aged Mrs Grier, but he knows that she doesn’t really believe her own wild accusations about that. If it came out, however, that he has been visiting a young and passably good-looking woman, and was with her on the night of the murder—’
‘She’d probably rather have him hanged than have him home, poor blighter,’ said Laura.
‘I suppose,’ Mrs Bradley went on, ‘that he does not believe for an instant that he, an innocent man, can be condemned.’
‘And he may be right, at that,’ said Laura. ‘Anyway, I suppose it’s worth the risk, from his point of view. But suppose he
‘Well, we’ll make up our minds that he won’t be.’
‘Right. Pity if he’d kept his mouth shut and all for nothing. I do admire people who hope for the best and don’t babble. When do we begin this Sherlock stuff to find the missing woman?’
‘In the same way that Holmes began his search for the missing racehorse,’ said Mrs Bradley, with a cackle. ‘We note that the dog gave the game away by not barking in the night. You remember?’
‘I like having my leg pulled,’ said Laura, with great good-humour, ‘and especially by intellects I respect; but there is a limit, and you’ve reached it. Are you talking of Mr Tidson’s dog? I call that a very mysterious animal, you know.’
Mrs Bradley cackled.
‘But I am not joking,’ she protested. ‘Come with me, and you’ll see.’
Mrs Bradley went first to Mrs Potter.
‘Where did your husband work?’ she asked as soon as the front door opened.
‘Oh, it’s you, mum,’ the poor woman said. ‘He worked for Mr Rummidge.’
‘How do I get there?’
‘Have you got anything to go on?’
‘I know who the murderer is. The police know, too.’
‘Then why don’t they let Potter go?’
‘They will. You must go on being patient. It won’t be for much longer now. Whereabouts is this place? And how long will it take me to get there?’
‘It’s just over the other side there. Take quarter of an hour, maybe. I don’t know ’ow quick you can walk.’
‘Right. Thank you. Cheer up, Mrs Potter! This business is very nearly settled and – I don’t think you’ll have much more trouble to keep your husband at home once you’ve got him back. How is your little girl? Is she still away?’
‘No, poor mite. Her cried to come home, so I had ’er. She knows where her dad is. The other children took care of that!’
‘Ah, well, we were all cruel at their age. How are you off for money?’
‘I’ve all I want,’ said the woman, flushing. ‘You’re working, then?’
‘What else can I do?’
‘What indeed?’
‘I don’t mind work. I’ve worked ’ard all my life. It’s the worry that kills!’
‘Very true. Well, don’t worry any more. Everything will turn out all right. You see if it doesn’t. Have you been to visit your husband?’
‘He won’t ’ave no one, Potter won’t. E’s obstinate.’
‘He feels he’s been badly treated, and so he has.’
‘It’s his own silly fault!’ said Mrs Potter, her chin shaking. ‘He done wrong, and now it’s come ’ome to ’im.’
‘You’ll have to forget all that, and allow him to make a fresh start. Men will be men, you know!’
‘They’re beasts, the whole lot of ’em, mum! That’s what they are! Fair beasts!’
‘Attractive beasts, too,’ muttered Laura. ‘I say,’ she added, when they were away from the house, ‘what price this Potter finding the kid on his way to work? Does that wash?’
‘Not well,’ Mrs Bradley agreed. ‘I think he was infatuated with this young woman of his, and, like many another Romeo, went out of his way to pass the house where she lived. I hope so, anyway, as I particularly want to find out where that was without asking the natives any questions. Potter has kept his secret, and I shouldn’t care to—’
‘Blow the gaff on him? Quite right. Where now? Round here to where he found the body?’
Beyond the wide shallow water a narrow road branched off which led vaguely in the direction indicated by Mrs Potter as leading towards Mr Rummidge’s works.
