'Fourteen.'
We finished our tea. I saw Mrs. Eubanks eyeing the chicken, ready to garnish and put into the oven, and I knew that now she'd told her story, she was ready to get back to work on the rector's dinner.
I thanked her and rose to leave. She said, 'I don't lie, Miss Crawford. I never did. What I told you is the truth. Not that it matters now with Miss Marjorie gone, and all. But it's been on my mind of late, hearing of how she died.'
I left her to her cooking and walked around the rectory toward the road. I had hardly got to the end of the rectory's drive when I saw policemen just coming out of the Harts' house, and between two constables walked Michael Hart, his face black as a thunder-cloud. In front of them strode Inspector Herbert, mouth grim, eyes looking neither right nor left.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I stood there rooted to the spot, not sure what to say or do for all of several seconds.
And then I was striding across the street and brushing past Victoria Garrison, who was standing in the middle of it, a gloating expression on her face.
She said, as I passed her, in a voice pitched for my ears only, 'He's going to the hangman, and there's nothing you can do to prevent it.'
I ignored her. She wasn't the only person watching as Lieutenant Hart was being taken into custody. Alicia was there, looking stricken, and others I recognized from the church fete.
I caught up with Inspector Herbert as he came through the Harts' gate. He started with surprise when he saw me, then glowered.
'What are you doing in Little Sefton, Miss Crawford?'
'Visiting friends,' I snapped, 'and it's just as well I'm here to tell you you're making a mistake.'
'Mrs. Calder isn't completely out of danger and they are keeping her sedated. But the doctors and the nursing sisters have told me that as she rouses a little, she repeats the name Michael over and over again. When she does, she's restless, and they believe she's afraid in whatever limbo she's in. A deeply rooted residual fear from her attack that she can't face.'
It made sense, of course, but I wasn't ready to give up so easily.
'Nonsense,' I said briskly. 'That's merely one interpretation. I've sat beside men who were hardly more than boys, as they recover from surgery. They call for their mothers-or if they're married, sometimes for their wives. Am I to believe that these soldiers feel their mothers are responsible for their wounds?'
'It's not the same,' he began.
'How can you be so certain? I've never once heard them cry out the name of a German soldier or the Kaiser.'
'You're being ridiculous.' But I could see he was weakening.
By this time Michael and his escort had caught up with us. He said sharply, 'Elizabeth. Stay out of this.'
'Oh, do hush,' I retorted, barely glancing at him. Turning again to Inspector Herbert, I asked, 'What other evidence do you have that Lieutenant Hart is guilty of murder?'
'He was in London the night that Marjorie Evanson died. And again last night.'
I turned to Michael, surprise in my face. 'But that's impossible!'
He had the grace to look ashamed. 'I'm sorry-'
'We found the marks. He dragged her. He's strong enough to do that one-handed. He gripped the collars of her clothing and dragged her into those shrubs. We found the bits of grass and earth on the heels of her shoes.'
I swallowed hard. 'And no one saw him? It was a summer's evening, and no one was looking out a window on Hamilton Place, to see a man loitering or to see him with Mrs. Calder, or in the square?'
'No one. I had men canvassing the street at eight o'clock this morning.'
'How did he get to London? He required permission from his doctors before I could take him there.'
'If you'll step out of the way, Miss Crawford, we'll finish our business here and take Lieutenant Hart to London.'
Behind them I could see Michael's aunt in the door, her face white, her hand to her mouth. Next to her stood her husband, his face pale with shock.
I turned to Michael. 'Who took you to London? Whose motorcar did you use?'
'My own,' he said harshly. 'Victoria agreed to drive me.'
I stepped back, then. 'Where was she when you were supposed to be killing Mrs. Calder?'
'Ask her. I left her at the theater. She wanted to see The Man Who Vanished.'
I whirled on Inspector Herbert. 'Have you verified that?'
'I spoke to Miss Garrison earlier. She paid for her ticket, handed it in, and took her seat. That much is certain. She was waiting outside the theater when Lieutenant Hart was to return for her. I have three witnesses to that.'
A voice behind me said, 'Let it go, Bess.'
It was Simon. I didn't know he had already come back for me. I said, 'But-'
And he repeated, 'Let it go.'
I took a deep breath and moved out of Inspector Herbert's path. He went directly to the motorcar he had waiting, and Michael passed me without a glance, taking his place in the vehicle as ordered. One of the constables was driving, and he slowly moved through the spectators cluttering the street; I felt like bursting into tears.
Not from frustration but from anger. Helpless, furious anger. At Inspector Herbert, at Victoria Garrison, and at Michael Hart as well.
I let Simon guide me to where he'd left his motorcar and got in without a word.
'I'm sorry, Bess,' he said as he stepped in beside me. 'Truly.'
'He's not guilty. Inspector Herbert will come to his senses and realize that for himself.'
'Very likely.' Looking over my shoulder, I could see Alicia. Her expression was pity vying with doubt.
'You don't mean that. You're just trying to make me feel better,' I added, as the village disappeared behind us.
'I'm not, my dear girl. I'm agreeing with you.'
I glanced at him, and saw that he was telling me the truth.
'I thought you didn't care for the handsome lieutenant,' he said after a time. 'You certainly put up a brave defense on his behalf.'
'I respect the fact that a Scotland Yard inspector has a great deal more experience in these matters than I have, but he's been floundering from the start, Simon. There could be any number of reasons why Mrs. Calder is saying Michael's name over and over again. Inspector Herbert should have waited until she could speak before taking any action. What's more, it could be that Victoria is lying.'
But I knew she wasn't. The police had already looked into that too.
Then where had Michael gone, when he left her at the theater?
Simon glanced at me. 'If he's innocent, Bess, Inspector Herbert will have to let him go. You needn't worry.'
I closed my eyes, trying to read Michael's face as the policemen had brought him out. I could see it still, and what I read there was anger, not innocence. He hadn't protested, I had. And I could feel my cheeks burn with the memory.
Not because I was ashamed of my defense of him. But because I knew that Inspector Herbert would see it very differently. Like everyone else who had been a witness to that scene, to him it would point to my feelings for Michael, rather than any objectivity on my part.
And then I knew what I had to do. There might not be another chance. 'Please-Simon-I must go back. It's important,' I told him urgently.
He slowed, but said, 'It's not wise, Bess.'
It took several minutes to convince him, but in the end he reluctantly turned back toward Little Sefton. I
