The Silent Pool Read online

  Miss Silver gave a short hortatory cough.

  ‘If you will allow me to say so, that was extremely foolish.’

  Mrs Smith said heartily,

  ‘Of course it was, but I didn’t stop to think, any more than if I’d got a wasp on my hand and was shaking it off.’

  ‘This happened recently?’

  ‘Monday night.’

  Miss Silver put down her knitting, went over to the writing-table, and came back with an exercise-book in a shiny blue cover. Propping it on her knee, she wrote in it in pencil, heading the page with the name of Smith followed by a query. This done, she looked up with the bright expectancy of a bird on the alert for a suitable worm.

  ‘Before we go any farther I should like to have the names and some description of the other members of your household. Their real names, if you please.’

  Mrs Smith was observed to hesitate. Then she said with a shade of defiance in her voice,

  ‘And what makes you say that?’

  Miss Silver gave her the smile which had won the confidence of so many clients and said,

  ‘I find some difficulty in believing that your own name is really Smith.’

  ‘And why?’

  Miss Silver’s pencil remained poised.

  ‘Because ever since you came into this room you have been acting a part. You did not wish to be recognized, and you presented an extremely convincing portrait of someone very different from yourself.’

  There was a faint mocking inflection in Mrs Smith’s voice as she said,

  ‘If it was convincing, in what way did it fail to convince you?’

  Miss Silver looked at her gravely.

  ‘Handwriting,’ she observed, ‘is often quite a reliable guide to character. Yours, if I may say so, did not lead me to expect a Mrs Smith. Also the paper on which your letter was written was not what she would have employed.’

  ‘That was stupid of me.’ The deep voice now had no trace of a London accent. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Mrs Smith would not, I think, have troubled to put an eye-veil on to so old a hat. She would not have worn an eye-veil at all. It occurred to me at once that you did not wish me to have too good a view of your eyes. You were, in fact, afraid that you might be recognized.’

  ‘And did you recognize me?’

  Miss Silver smiled.

  ‘Your eyes are not easily forgotten. You kept them down as much as possible, but you needed to look at me, because that was why you had come here – to look at me and to make up your mind about consulting me. You disguised your voice very well – the slight accent and the jerky way of speaking. But it was by one slight, almost involuntary movement that you really gave yourself away. It is, I imagine, one which is habitual to you, but I had seen you employ it in the character of Mrs Alving in Ghosts. Your left hand just rose and fell again. It was the simplest thing, but there was something about it which was very effective, very moving. It has remained in my memory as part of a very notable performance. When you made that same movement just now I felt quite sure that you were Adriana Ford.’

  Adriana broke into deep melodious laughter.

  ‘I knew as soon as I had done it that I had slipped up over that hand business. It was out of character. But I thought the rest of it was pretty good. The coat is a treasured relic of Meeson’s – she’s my maid – used to be my dresser. And the hat is one she was going to throw away. Frankly, I thought it was a masterpiece, veiling and all. Anyhow it was my eyes I was afraid about. My photographs have always rather featured them.’ She pulled off the hat as she spoke. The fuzzy grey wig came too. Her own hair appeared, short, thick, and beautifully tinted to a deep Titian red. She said in a laughing voice, ‘Well, that’s better, isn’t it? Of course the hair is all wrong with these clothes and no proper make-up, but we can at least see each other now. I hated having to peer at you through that damned veil.’

  She tossed hat and wig on to the nearest chair and straightened herself. The stoop was no more hers than the rabbit coat. Adriana Ford’s back was straight enough.

  This was no longer Mrs Smith nor was it the tragic Mrs Alving, the terrifying and heart-shaking Lady Macbeth of a decade ago, or the warm and exquisite Juliet of thirty years back. Stripped of her disguise, here was a woman who had lived for a long time and crowded that time with triumphs. There was an air of vigour, there was an air of authority. There was humour, there was a capacity for emotion. The dark eyes were still beautiful and the brows above them finely arched.

  Miss Silver saw these things and the something else for which she looked. It was there in the eyes and in the set of the mouth. There had been wakeful nights and days of indecision and strain before Adriana Ford had brought herself to play the part of Mrs Smith and bring her troubles to a stranger. She said, ‘Perhaps you will now give me the particulars for which I asked you.’

  Chapter Three

  Adriana Ford laughed.

  ‘Persistent – aren’t you?’ she said. The laughter passed. She went on in her deep voice, ‘You want to know who was in the house, and what they were doing, and whether I think any one of them has been trying to kill me – don’t you? Well, I can give you a list of names, but it isn’t going to help you any more than it has helped me. Sometimes I think I’m imagining the whole thing. I came to see you because quite suddenly I felt I couldn’t just sit and wait for the next thing to happen. Quite a lot of people come and go at Ford House. I’ll give you their names and tell you who they are, but I want it to be clearly understood that I’m not suspecting anyone or accusing anyone, and that if I say the word, you will tear up any notes you may have taken and forget everything I’ve told you.’

  Miss Silver said,

  ‘I have already assured you that whatever you say will be in confidence. Always provided that no tragic event should necessitate the intervention of the law.’

  Adriana’s hand rose and fell. It was the gesture Miss Silver had remembered – slight, graceful, and expressive.

  ‘Oh, after me the deluge! If I’m murdered, you can do what you like!’ The words were spoken on an impulse which spent itself and died. A frown followed, and quick words. ‘Now why did I say that? I didn’t mean to. We had better get on with those names.’ She tapped with her fingers upon the arm of her chair. ‘I don’t know how much you know about me, but everyone knows that I’ve retired from the stage. I live three miles from Ledbury in an old house down by the river. It is called Ford House. I bought it twenty years ago. I fancied it because of the name. I was born Rutherford, but I went on the stage as Adriana Ford. Some of my relations have stuck to the Scotch Rutherford, but some of them call themselves Ford – after me. I’m the last of my own generation. Now, I’ll begin with the staff at Ford House. Alfred Simmons and his wife, butler and cook. They’ve been with me for twenty years. They live in, and so does Meeson, whom I suppose you can call my maid. She used to be my dresser, and she is devoted to me. She came to me when she was only a girl, and she’s about sixty now. Then there are two women who come in daily – a girl called Joan Cuttle, a silly irritating creature, but you can’t imagine her wanting to poison anyone – and a middle-aged widow whose husband used to be an under gardener. Her name, if you want it, is Pratt. Outside, there’s a gardener called Robertson, and a young man under him, Sam Bolton. He looks after the car and does odd jobs.’

  Miss Silver wrote down the names in the blue exercise-book whilst Adriana fell into a frowning silence. In the end she said,

  ‘Well, that’s all the staff, and I can’t think of a single reason why any of them should want me out of the way.’

  Miss Silver coughed.

  ‘No legacies?’

  ‘Well, of course! What do you take me for? Meeson’s been with me for forty years, and the Simmons for twenty.’

  ‘Are they aware that you have provided for them?’

  ‘They would think very badly of me if I hadn’t.’

  ‘Miss Ford, I must ask you to be exact. Do they actually know that you
have provided for them?’

  ‘Of course they do!’

  ‘And to a considerable extent?’

  ‘I don’t do things by halves!’

  ‘Any other legacies to the staff?’

  ‘Oh, no. At least – that is – five pounds for every year of service. A hundred would cover the lot.’

  Miss Silver drew a line across the page.

  ‘We have now disposed of the staff. May I ask who else resides at Ford House?’

  Adriana’s fingers traced the outline of a carved acanthus leaf.

  ‘My cousin Geoffrey Ford and his wife Edna. He is in his late forties. His means are not what he would like them to be, and the life of a country gentleman suits him. He began by coming for visits, which have prolonged themselves into a more or less permanent stay. He is agreeable company, and I like to have a man about the house. His wife is one of those tiresome well-meaning women. She interferes with the servants and calls it doing the housekeeping. She would like to keep everything locked up and dole it out in daily doses. And she is ridiculously jealous of Geoffrey.’

  Miss Silver held her pencil poised.

  ‘When you say ridiculously, do you mean that she has no reason to be jealous?’

  Adriana laughed a little harshly.

  ‘Far from it! I should say she had every reason! But what does she expect? She is older than Geoffrey, and she could never have been attractive. No one has ever been able to make out why he married her. As far as I know, she has no money. Well, so much for Geoffrey and Edna. Then there’s Meriel.’

  Miss Silver wrote down the name and repeated it on a note of enquiry.

  ‘Meriel-?’

  ‘Oh, Ford – Ford. At any rate that’s what she’s been called for the last twenty-three years or so. And it’s no use your asking where she comes in, because she doesn’t. You may say that she was thrown on my hands, and there she’s likely to remain. She frightens the men away. An intense creature – probably a misfit anywhere.’

  ‘What does she do?’

  ‘The flowers.’ Adriana’s mouth twisted.

  ‘You have never thought of giving her a profession?’

  ‘Oh, I’ve thought of it, but all she has ever wanted to do was to go on the stage or to dance – starting at the top. She has no idea of working, and she has no real talent. In fact the whole thing is a grievance.’

  Miss Silver wrote against the name of Meriel Ford – ‘Emotional, disappointed, discontented.’

  She looked up, to find Adriana’s eyes fixed on her with a doubtful expression.

  ‘Those are all the regular people, but of course there were visitors. I suppose you don’t want to know about them.’

  ‘Do you mean that there were visitors staying in the house at the time of the incidents which have alarmed you?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘Then I think you had better give me the names.’

  Adriana leaned back.

  ‘Well, there was Mabel Preston for one. She was there for the day when I broke my leg, but of course she couldn’t have had anything to do with it.’

  ‘And who is Mabel Preston?’

  Adriana made a face.

  ‘Oh, an old friend, and an unlucky one. She used to be quite well known as Mabel Prestayne, but she married a wrong un and went downhill. He spent everything she earned, and when she couldn’t earn any more he went off and left her, poor thing. I have her down once in a way, but I must say I didn’t want her just then.’

  Pencil poised, Miss Silver enquired,

  ‘Had she any interest in your will?’

  Adriana looked rueful.

  ‘Well, she has. I help her a bit, and she is down for an annuity. But it wouldn’t be of any advantage to her really. In fact I should think she would lose by my death, because I give her things from time to time – clothes, you know – that sort of thing. You can put Mabel out of your head. It’s really not worth your while to write her down. I’ve known her for forty years, and she wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

  ‘Have you any other names to give me?’

  ‘There is my young cousin, Star Somers – you will know about her. She is very pretty and attractive, and she has had quite a success in comedy. She doesn’t live at Ford House, but she runs up and down because her little girl is there with a nanny. Star divorced her husband about a year ago. He comes down sometimes to see the child, but he doesn’t stay in the house. Another occasional visitor is Star’s cousin, Ninian Rutherford. They’re like brother and sister and very fond of each other – their fathers were twins. He comes to stay when she is there.’

  Miss Silver wrote down the name. Then she said,

  ‘And which of these people was staying in the house when you fell on the stairs?’

  Adriana’s eyes looked back at her with a mocking expression.

  ‘Oh, all of them, except Robin Somers. No, let me see – I believe he was there too. He doesn’t come down as a rule when Star is at Ford, but it was Stella’s birthday – the little girl, you know – and he actually remembered it. Star wouldn’t see him – she was furious. There was a party – just a few children from round about – and I had been in the thick of it, but I went upstairs to try and get Star to come down, and she wouldn’t because of Robin. So he must have been in the house when I fell… The date? Oh, March the fifteenth.’

  Miss Silver wrote that down too.

  ‘And the incident of the mushroom soup?’

  ‘Oh, that was in August. And I can’t give you the exact date, so it’s no use your asking me. I only remember about my fall because it was Stella’s birthday. But it would have been a weekend, if that is any use, because Star was there, and Mabel – and, yes, I suppose most of the others too, but not Robin. At least not that any of us knew. But as to the tablet, you can see for yourself it might have been put into the bottle by anyone and at any time. In fact,’ said Adriana with a radiant smile, ‘anyone might have done any of the things, or they may all have been just nothing at all.’ She opened the old fur coat and threw it back with a buoyant gesture. ‘Now that I’ve told you all about it, you can’t think how much better I feel. You know how it is, you think of things in the night and they get hold of you. I expect the whole thing is just imagination from start to finish. I slipped and fell. The fly on the drop of soup just happened to die – flies do. And as to the tablet, I suppose it might have been a different sort that got in by mistake, or one that hadn’t turned out quite right – something like that. I had better just put the whole thing right out of my mind.’

  Miss Silver was silent. Her face was grave and composed. She thought Adriana Ford was talking to convince herself, and she wondered whether the effect would be more than a transitory one. It was a little while before she spoke again.

  ‘As you have said yourself, you have very little to go upon. The fall might have been quite accidental, and the evidence as to the soup is far from conclusive. The tablet does give grounds for thought. It is a great pity that you threw it away. Since you have come to consult me, I will give you the best advice I can. Short of changing your household and your whole mode of life, there are certain things which you could do.’

  Adriana’s fine brows lifted.

  ‘As what?’

  ‘You could make a point of having your meals with the rest of the family. Separate meals make it a great deal easier to tamper with food. That is the first point.’

  ‘And the next?’

  ‘Allow your household to suppose that you have been making alterations in your will. If there is anyone who believes that your death will profit him or her, such an announcement would cast doubt upon the matter and thus remove a possible temptation.’

  Adriana threw out her hands in a sweeping gesture.

  ‘Oh, my dear Miss Silver!’

  Miss Silver said sedately,

  ‘That is my advice.’

  Adriana flung back her head and laughed. It was a deep and musical sound.

  ‘Do you know what I am going to do?’


  ‘I think I can guess.’

  ‘Then you are even cleverer than you think. I’m going to take out a new lease of life, and I’m going to live it my own way. Things happened when I was sitting here telling you I thought there was someone who wanted me dead – I didn’t believe it any more, or if I believed it I didn’t care. I’m going to live. And I don’t mean just to drag on, an invalid on a couch – I mean really live. I’ve got a car hired for the day and Meeson waiting in it, and when I go out of here I’m going shopping, and I’m going to get a lot of new clothes, and I’ll have my hair touched up – it wants it. And I’ll go back to Ford and I’ll make a big splash there. My parties used to be famous. I don’t know why I stopped giving them – the War, and then I couldn’t be bothered – but I’m going to start all over again. And I’ll keep a good look out, I can promise you that. If there is anyone who wants me out of the way, they are not going to find it so easy!’

  Chapter Four

  The drawing-room at Ford House was a great deal too full of furniture. It was a large room with three long windows looking to the terrace, but it was not as light as it ought to have been because the old painted panelling had deepened to what was practically sage green, and the heavy grey velvet curtains obscured a good deal of the glass. In the days when Adriana Ford had entertained there these moss and lichen shades had made a wonderful background for her flaming hair and her whole magnificent exuberance. In her absence it was the furniture which dominated the scene – towering Chippendale cabinets crammed with china; a grand piano in ebony and mother-of-pearl; tables in ormolu, in marqueterie, in walnut inlaid with satinwood; monumental sofas; enormous chairs; a marble mantelpiece like the entrance to a tomb; a clutter of ornaments. Adriana had lighted it all like a torch. Without her it was a gloomy has-been.