THE CRIME AT TATTENHAM CORNER (Murder Mystery Classic). Annie Haynes
will not get a penny."
"It is scarcely decent to talk of Lady Burslem's second husband when her first is only this day buried," Mr. Weldon said expressively.
"Decent! I dare say it is not!" the general growled. "Precious few natural things are! But it is what the widows mostly think of, let me tell you that. Not the one they put underground, but the one they hope to find on top."
Meanwhile the widowed Lady Burslem had walked past the drawing-room, resisting her father's gesture towards them.
"No, you all go in there and have tea and things; I am going back to my room. I must be alone to think."
"Well, I shall see you in, anyhow," Mrs. Dolphin said restlessly, linking her arm in her sister's. "Don't be an ass, Sophie; of course I am coming in to make you comfortable. I'm not too fond of that maid of yours: she seems to me to be always watching you."
"I don't care much about her, either," said Sophie listlessly. "I don't think I shall keep her. I think I shall go abroad in a week or two, and I should prefer some one who speaks Italian."
The door into her room stood open. Forbes was near the window, apparently holding something up to the light. She turned as the sisters entered, and for a moment Sophie fancied she looked discomposed. She recovered herself immediately, however, and came forward.
"You look tired, my lady, quite worn out. A little sal volatile and a rest in your favourite chair—"
She drew one up to the open window as she spoke.
Her tone was sympathetic, but Clare Dolphin, watching her, saw a look of triumph gleam for a moment in her eyes.
Sophie lay back in her chair and submitted to her maid's ministrations without the protest her sister had half expected. Presently she looked up.
"I am all right now, Clare. Forbes will look after me. And then I must be alone. It seems to me that I have not had a moment to think since John—"
Mrs. Dolphin did not look quite pleased. "Oh, very well, then, if you don't want me I will go home. Goodness knows, I have plenty to do. But I didn't like the idea of your being alone."
"You are very kind." Sophie received her sister's kisses passively, rather than returned them. "But—but, you see, there is so much that I shall have to do alone now."
"Oh, well, I will come in again some time this evening, just to see how you are."
She shut the door with a decided jerk as she went out.
Sophie sat up. Her languor had momentarily disappeared. "What was that you were looking at when we came in, Forbes?"
Forbes hesitated.
"Well, I had just found your frock, my lady. The one you wore for dinner on June 2nd. I found it all crushed together at the bottom of the wardrobe. It is in a fearful state, my lady. The front breadth is right out."
She shook the dilapidated garment before Sophie's unwilling eyes as she spoke. One glance was enough to show its hopeless condition—dirty, covered with mud-stains. There were still a few ominous dark stains left on the bodice, and the front breadth hung literally in rags.
"What am I to do with it, my lady? I really can hardly touch it."
"It is in a terrible state," Sophie said, staring at it with fascinated eyes. "I knew it was in a mess, but I had no idea that it was as bad as this. Of course I wore it when I went to Oxley. That, and my purple coat with the beaver collar over it. And of course we did a lot of walking in and out. They—they wanted me to see everything. Earlier in the day it had been raining."
"Yes, of course, my lady." But the maid was not satisfied. "Just look at the front, my lady, all in rags!"
Sophie gazed at it in silence for a minute. "It—there are lots of thorn bushes near the stables, and we left the car a little way away. I suppose I got my frock caught on the bushes going back."
"It looks as if it had been cut, my lady, as if some one had taken a knife and hacked at it," the maid objected, holding out one side.
Lady Burslem sat back and closed her eyes. "Well, I am sure I do not know what has happened to it. Put it in the rag-bag, please, Forbes, or wherever you put such things. I don't care what becomes of it. I do not suppose I shall ever wear white again. You can take that white and gilt frock of mine that you f liked so much when it came home last week. It will do for you when you go to a dance with your young man."
"Oh, my lady, and you have never had it on. It does seem a shame. I shall love to have it. Not that I shall be going to any dances now. Tom and me, we lost too much over Peep o' Day."
"Ah! I must have a talk with you about that later on, Forbes." Lady Burslem's accession of energy left her suddenly. "I will have some more sal volatile, and—and then I will see you again later."
When at last the maid had retired Sophie sat up and looked round her cautiously. Her cheeks were burning now and her eyes were fever bright. She went across to the door and locked it. Then she came slowly back, her eyes fixed on her dressing-case.
"I must!" she whispered to herself. "I must make sure."
She opened the case. Everything looked just as usual. She felt for the spring that opened the secret drawer. Was it her fancy, or did it work more stiffly than usual? It moved with a sort of creak that she did not seem to have noticed before. And then she uttered an exclamation of horror and dismay. She had put that long strip of satin with its ugly, brown stain in the drawer. Yes, there was—there could be—no mistake about that. And now the drawer was empty!
Frantically she pulled it out. She shook it. She turned it topsy-turvy and felt behind it.
In vain—no silk was there!
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