She began to put the tea-things together, and then stood, arms akimbo, for a further effort of oratory.
“Don’t you drive she too far, sir, our Hannah. Her’s like a child some ways, for all her’ll work till her do drop. There’s no more wickedness in Hannah than there is in a little babby. But her do take things to heart; and if her’s the next to be fished out of mill-stream, that’ll be plain wickedness, that will.”
“I think we can make sure that doesn’t happen,” said Macdonald.
“I wouldn’t be so sure. Why can’t you be a-done, sir? Sister, her came over dizzy and her brooded like. That’s good enough for I. All this here’s not going to bring Sister back.”
Macdonald would dearly have liked to ask, “Do you wish Sister would come back?” Perhaps some reflection of his impious thought reached Emma Higson’s mind, for as she lifted the teapot she said: “Not that it’s for the likes of we to question the ways of Providence. And when you’ve done your lookings around in this house, sir, I’d take it kindly if you’d say so and let me lock up proper-like. Us don’t want no more carryings-on tonight.”
CHAPTER XVI
When Macdonald left Emma Higson in the kitchen, he went hack to the office, where Reeves was industriously writing a report. Reeves had been admitted to the house by Macdonald when the latter sent Cook into the kitchen to put the kettle on, Macdonald having undertaken to lock the front door and close the windows.
Macdonald said: “I’m leaving the house to you. I’ll be back later —garden door around eleven o’clock. Hannah’s safe in bed.”
“I’ll be there,” murmured Reeves.
At that moment the telephone rang; before he answered it, Macdonald opened the door and called: “All right, Mrs. Higson. I’ll answer it.” He shut the door and lifted the receiver. It was Dr. Brown.
“What’s this about Hannah Barrow being ill? If she is ill, why wasn’t I called?”
“I called Dr. Ferens because he was nearer, sir. She seemed in a bad way, but it’s nothing to worry about. I was just coming down to see you.”
“And who’s looking after Hannah? I tell you, I don’t like it. The devil’s let loose in this place.”
“Mrs. Higson is here, sir. She’s quite reliable.”
“Reliable? How do you know who’s reliable?” snapped the old man. “Everybody seems to be taking leave of their senses. Did you say you were coming down here?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be with you within five minutes.”
The old man was still muttering to himself as Macdonald replaced the receiver.
Leaving the door of the office wide open, after a nod to Reeves, Macdonald went towards the kitchen, whence emerged a good savoury smell and splutter of frying bacon and eggs.
“Mrs. Higson,” he called, and, getting no reply, he went into the kitchen and found Emma busy with her frying pan. “I’m just going, Mrs. Higson,” he called across to her. “Would you like to come round the house with me and satisfy yourself there’s nothing to worry about, or will you be quite happy in your mind if I go round myself?”
“Thanking you, sir, if you’ll go around that’s good enough for I. I’ll have me bit of supper and then go upstairs to be near Hannah. And I tell you straight I’m not letting nobody in here after I’ve bolted door when you go out.”
“Quite right. And you can bolt all the other doors too. I’ll give you a call when I’ve been round.”
Conscientiously Macdonald went through every room in the house. Reeves was there somewhere, but Macdonald didn’t catch sight of him. Nobody was better at a cat-and-mouse act than Reeves. Hannah was snoring peacefully, still lying sedately on her back, but her wrinkled face was a normal colour and her scrubby hands were as red as nature meant them to be, relaxed on the grey blankets which Emma Higson had tucked in so neatly.
Macdonald went downstairs to the office, collected his attache case and the sheets of Reeves’s report, and then went to call Emma Higson, who saw him to the front door.
“It’s been a fine old upset and all,” she said, “but if so be us has got to have policemen all over house, us’d as soon have you as anybody, meaning no offence.”
“Very kindly said,” replied Macdonald. “You get up to bed and have a good sleep. Good night to you.”
He heard the bolts shoot into their old sockets with a purposeful rattle as he turned away into the fragrant witchery of the summer evening. Milham on the Moor looked lovely enough to catch at the heart, the evening sun glowing on rose and ochre of cob walls, on golden thatch and enchantment of carven stone, all embellished with roses and honeysuckle, scented, colourful, and serene.
2
“Why couldn’t you let Hannah alone?” demanded old Brown indignantly. “She’s a borderline case, I know that, got the mind of a child, but she’s a good old soul. D’you think you could put her in a witness box? Not if I know it. She hasn’t got her full complement of wits, and I won’t have her bullied. ’
“No one’s going to bully her, sir. Certainly not myself,” replied Macdonald patiently. “I realise as well as you do that her intelligence is limited. She couldn’t be taught to read and write, but she could be taught to do routine tasks, and to do them well. Because her world is very limited, she remembers accurately all the small things she has been taught to do by rote. And she notices any deviation from the normal. I’m quite convinced she was telling the truth when
