“I wish to goodness you’d leave it alone, Roger,” said Alec, almost plaintively.
XXIII
Mrs. Plant Talks
The inquest, in spite of the snail-like deliberation demanded by all legal processes, did not occupy more than an hour and a half. The issue was never in the least doubt, and the proceedings were more or less perfunctory. Fortunately the coroner was not of a particularly inquisitive disposition and was quite satisfied with the facts as they stood; he did not waste very much time, beyond what was absolutely necessary, in probing into such matters as motive. Only the minimum possible number of witnesses were called, and though Roger listened carefully, no new facts of any description came to light.
Mrs. Plant gave her evidence clearly and without a tremor; Lady Stanworth’s statuesque calm was as unshaken as ever. Jefferson was in the witness box longer than anyone else, and told his story in his usual abrupt, straightforward manner.
“You’d never think, to see and hear him, that his whole evidence is nothing but a pack of lies, would you?” Roger whispered to Alec.
“No, I wouldn’t; and what’s more I don’t,” retorted that gentleman behind his hand. “It’s my belief that he thinks he’s telling the truth.”
Roger groaned gently.
As far as minor witnesses went, Graves, the butler, and Roger were both called to corroborate Jefferson’s tale of the breaking down of the door; and the former was questioned regarding his discovery of the confession, while Roger told of the locked windows. Alec was not even called at all.
The verdict, “Suicide during temporary insanity,” was inevitable.
As they left the morning room Roger caught Alec’s arm.
“I’m going to try and get hold of Mrs. Plant now, before lunch,” he said in a low voice. “Do you want to be present, or not?”
Alec hesitated. “What exactly are you going to do?” he asked.
“Tax her with having been blackmailed by Stanworth, and invite her to tell me the truth about the night before last.”
“Then I don’t want to be there,” Alec said with decision. “The whole thing absolutely sickens me.”
Roger nodded approvingly. “I think it’s better that you shouldn’t be, I’m bound to say. And I can tell you afterwards what happened.”
“When shall I see you, then?”
“After lunch. I’ll have a word with you before I tackle Jefferson.”
He edged away from Alec and intercepted Mrs. Plant, who was on the point of ascending the staircase. Jefferson and Lady Stanworth were still talking with the coroner in the morning room.
“Mrs. Plant,” he said quietly, “can you spare me a few minutes? I want to have a little chat with you.”
Mrs. Plant glanced at him sharply.
“But I’m just going up to finish my packing,” she objected.
“What I have to say is very much more important than packing,” Roger returned weightily, unconsciously regarding her from beneath lowered brows.
Mrs. Plant laughed nervously. “Dear me, Mr. Sheringham, you sound very impressive. What is it that you want to speak to me about?”
“If you will come out into the garden where we shall not be overheard, I will tell you.”
For a moment she hesitated, with a longing glance up the staircase as if she wished to escape from something peculiarly unwelcome. Then with a little shrug of her shoulders she turned into the hall.
“Oh, very well,” she said, with an assumption of lightness. “If you really make such a point of it.”
Roger piloted her out through the front door, picking up a couple of folding garden chairs as he passed through the hall. He led the way into a deserted corner of the rose garden that could not be overlooked from the house, and set up his chairs so that they faced one another.
“Will you sit down, Mrs. Plant?” he said gravely.
If he had been trying to work up an atmosphere with a view to facilitating further developments, Roger appeared to have succeeded. Mrs. Plant seated herself without a word and looked at him apprehensively.
Roger sat down with deliberation and gazed at her for a moment in silence. Then:
“It has come to my knowledge that you were not speaking the truth to me yesterday about your visit to the library, Mrs. Plant,” he said slowly.
Mrs. Plant started. “Really, Mr. Sheringham!” she exclaimed, flushing with indignation and rising hurriedly to her feet. “I fail to understand what right you have to insult me in this gross way. This is the second time you have attempted to question me, and you will allow me to say that I consider your conduct presumptuous and impertinent in the highest degree. I should be obliged if you would kindly refrain from making me the target for your abominable lack of manners in future.”
Roger gazed up at her unperturbed.
“You were really there,” he continued impressively, “for the purpose of being blackmailed by Mr. Stanworth.”
Mrs. Plant sat down so suddenly that it seemed as if her knees had collapsed beneath her. Her hands gripped the sides of her chair till the knuckles were as white as her face.
“Now look here, Mrs. Plant,” Roger said, leaning forward and speaking rapidly, “there’s been something very funny going on here, and I mean to get to the bottom of it. Believe me, I don’t mean you any harm. I’m absolutely on your side, if things are as I believe them to be. But I must know the truth. As a matter of fact, I think I know pretty well everything already; but I want you to confirm it for me with your own lips. I want you to tell me the plain, unvarnished truth of what happened in Stanworth’s library the
