The Black Opal

Confession

Dorothy called that afternoon, eager to hear what had happened at the meeting. She was greatly excited, especially when she heard I was to pay a visit.

“How wonderfully it worked out! And he married her! He was always known as an eccentric. I can understand the worry about the child. It would be just the sort of titbit the press likes to get its teeth into. Just imagine if that came out! The object of the marriage would then be completely pointless. And she didn’t have any light to throw on the case?”

“Only that she confirmed my conviction that the doctor did not kill his wife.”

“Well, I suppose she would believe that, wouldn’t she?”

“I am absolutely convinced of it.”

“Unfortunately, that wouldn’t carry much weight in a court of law. And you are actually going to stay in Jefferson Craig’s house! Perhaps you’ll get an invitation for me, one day.”

“I should think that might be possible.”

“What’s the next plan of action?”

“I am to go down at the end of next week.”

“Wonderful. And in the meantime … secrecy.” I looked at her steadily.

“At this stage, I think so.” She nodded. She would agree with me that there could be no point in telling Lawrence at this time. We both knew that he would consider it unwise to become involved in something unsavoury that happened a long time ago.

Dorothy understood Lawrence absolutely. Had she not been looking after him for so many years?

I wrote to my mother and told her what had happened. I thought she would be interested, and it was Harriman who had suggested what I should do. I had not told the Hysons and Gertie would not be home until Saturday. So I would wait until after the visit before saying any thing specific about it to anyone else. Dorothy knew, of course, but then Dorothy was involved, as my mother and Harriman were.

One thing I must tell them was that Edward Marline had sworn to Kitty that he had not poisoned his wife. I knew they would say it was natural that he should do that, but I knew, and Kitty knew, that Edward would not have sworn that he was innocent if he were not. So I was v completely convinced that it was someone else who had administered the fatal dose. I had a letter from my mother wishing me luck and telling me how much she looked forward to being with me again and hearing the result.p>

Gertie and Bernard came home the following Saturday. They were in excessively high spirits. Aunt Beatrice, Uncle Harold and I went to the station to meet them. There were hugs and kisses and shrieks of delight. We drove to the house where everything had been prepared by Aunt Beatrice to give the newly married couple a suitable welcome home.

Bernard had not carried Gertie over the threshold and she insisted they go out and enter in the correct manner, so Bernard performed his duty to everyone’s satisfaction and we all went into the drawing-room where Uncle Harold produced champagne and we all drank to the return of the happy couple.

And they were happy. Gertie shrieked her pleasure at the well-stocked larder and demanded to know if Aunt Beatrice wanted to make her as fat as she was.

It was a wonderful homecoming and it was some time before Gertie turned her attention to me.

I told her about my mother, which interested her, and that I had found some other friends from the past whom I was visiting the following weekend.

“What a lot of friends from the past you have!” she cried.

“You are really a dark horse, Carmel Sinclair.”

Fortunately there was too much to absorb her in her new house for her to be very interested in me.

I had a note from Lucian. He was coming up to London in the middle of the week and suggested we have lunch together at Logan’s.

This threw me into a dilemma. I should have to tell him that I was going away again. He had been in my thoughts a great deal since he had asked me to marry him, and there had been many times when I had wanted to say yes. Very much I had wanted it. I thought how unhappy I should be if he had to go away. I felt envious of Gertie, whose life ran so smoothly. That was how I should have felt if I had been certain of Lucian. There was just that barrier which I could not cross. I did not know even if it were a barrier. There was just something I could not understand and I must know what it was before I could marry him.

I knew now that Lawrence could never be anything but a good friend. Of course, some people married good friends and were very happy. There was my mother and Harriman Blakemore -and now Kitty and Jefferson Craig. A marriage of convenience, if ever there was one. But for what motive? Not financial gain, but genuine desire to help on one side and on the other an over-riding need for support. My mother and Harriman.

Kitty and Jefferson Craig. There was no pretence between them.

I was thinking of telling Lucian what I had told Gertie. That I was going to see a friend from the past. Well, I was . but there was more to it than that.

Then the thought came to me. If I were not frank with Lucian, why should I expect him to be with me?

I decided then that I must tell him that I had seen Kitty Carson, that I was going to stay with her and that I was becoming more and more caught up in what had happened at Commonwood House during that fatal time when it had become part of a cause celebre.

I met him at our now familiar table at Logan’s.

When we had ordered, he said: “Something has happened. Tell me.”

I hardly knew where to begin, so I said: “You know I have always been interested in the Marline case.”

His face changed. He frowned slightly.

“Oh, it is so long ago. It’s all over. What good could anyone do now?”

“I don’t know. But I have seen Kitty Carson.”

“What?”

“Let me explain. You know I stayed with my mother. I told you how she had married Harriman Blakemore and how they would like to see you one day. I am going to arrange that. When I was there, we talked a lot about the Marline case. You see, my mother was interested in Commonwood, for obvious reasons, and we talked about the old days.

Harriman suggested that, as a man called Jefferson Craig had campaigned for Kitty, he might know something of her whereabouts. “

“What made you go to all this trouble?”

“I suppose it was due to knowing them all so well and my conviction of the doctor’s innocence.”

“If he were innocent, who killed Mrs. Marline?”

“That is the mystery. Suicide possibly, but I can’t believe that.

However, Harriman had this idea, and Dorothy Emmerson had once written to Jefferson Craig and had an address. So I wrote to Kitty care of him, and she got the letter right away because she had married him.

The out come of all this was that we met in Kensington Gardens.

It was easy to talk there. I had found a quiet spot and there are not many people about at ten o’clock in the morning. “

He stared at me unbelievingly and I added: “There it is. And that is where I am going.”

“I can’t see …”

“You think I should not have done this?”

“Perhaps, when something like this has happened, it would be better not to become involved. I think it is something you should put out of your mind and forget.”

“There are some things one cannot forget, however much one tries.”

“What did she tell you?”

“How she suffered. She has a daughter now. Jefferson Craig married Kitty so that the child should have the name of Craig. He seems to be a wonderful man. Harriman is too. How lucky both Kitty and my mother are! Poor Kitty, she suffered so much.”

He was staring ahead of him.

“Yes. Both of them seem to have found very good men.”

“Kitty admits how fortunate she has been in that respect. Her great fear is that, although her little girl has the name of Craig, some day someone might discover that she is the daughter of Edward Marline. She says that will hang over her for ever.”

“It is very remote,” he said.

“Yes, she knows that, but it is there. And, Lucian, it is possible.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“So I am going to her. I shall meet Jefferson Craig. Dorothy Emmerson is most impressed. She says he is a very clever man.”

He was silent and I guessed he was thinking that my preoccupation with this unsavoury event was unhealthy and rather foolish. Yet, at the same time, he had looked rather disturbed when I had spoken of the shadow which Kitty had said would hang over her daughter.

He changed the subject and we talked of other matters, of Gertie’s return and my next visit to the Grange, which would be after my return from seeing Kitty. Then my mother wanted me to go to Castle Folly, and she had said that it would be very pleasant if Lucian accompanied me.

But some pleasure had gone out of this meeting, and I felt the barrier between us was stronger than ever.

I was very surprised that evening to find that a note addressed to me had been delivered at the house. It had been pushed through the letter box and I was surprised to see that it was in Lucian’s handwriting.

I opened it with eagerness and read:

My dear Carmel, I must see you tomorrow. It is very important. I have something to tell you without delay. We must go somewhere where we can be undisturbed. You told me you had met Kitty Carson in Kensington Gardens and there was hardly anyone there at ten in the mornings.

Could you possibly meet me there tomorrow at that time? I will wait for you at the Memorial. I shall be there in any case.

My dearest, this is very important. I love you.

Lucian.

I read and re-read the note. He had called me ‘dearest’ and he had said “I love you.” That gladdened me, but the mysterious urgency of it faintly alarmed me.

I scarcely slept that night and in the morning at ten o’clock I was at the Memorial, to find Lucian already there.

“Lucian!” I cried.

“What has happened?”

He took my arm.

“Let’s sit down in that quiet spot you mentioned.”

We hurried there. His face was stern and very solemn.

As soon as we were seated, he said: “It is about the Marline case.”

I was astonished.

“Yes, yes?” I said eagerly.

“You are convinced that Edward Marline did not commit that murder. I think I know who did.”

“Lucian! Who?”

He was staring straight ahead. He hesitated, as though he found it difficult to speak, then he said slowly: “I think … I did.”

“You! What do you mean?”

“I mean that I fear I may have been responsible for Grace Marline’s death.”

That’s impossible! You weren’t there. “

“Carmel, I think I may have been responsible,” he repeated.

“I mean her death may have been due to me. It has haunted me for a long time.

I try not to think of it, but sometimes I wake in the night with a horrible sense of guilt, and I think of that man who hanged for something which could have been due to me. I think of the governess . and now her daughter . who have this hanging over them for the rest of their lives . because of what I did. “

“How could you have had anything to do with it? You hardly saw the woman. You weren’t there.”

“I was there,” he said.

“Do you remember the day before she died? I shall never forget it.”

“I remember,” I said.

“You and Camilla came to tea.”

“Yes. We were in the drawing-room downstairs because Mrs. Marline was in the garden and it wouldn’t matter if we made a noise. We talked of opals. You remember that?”

I nodded.

“Camilla said our mother had had some fine ones, and Estella, or it might have been Henry, replied that their mother had an opal ring. He wanted to show it to me.”

It was all coming back to me that warm afternoon. Tom Yardley had wheeled Mrs. Marline into the garden and there we were, in the drawing-room, laughing because we did not have to worry that we might make too much noise since She was in the garden and out of the way. I had been disappointed because Lucian had gone off with Henry, leaving us girls together.

Lucian went on: “Henry was determined to show me his mother’s opal, because he was sure it was as good as any thing my mother had: and I was eager to see it. Henry said: ” Come into her bedroom. It’s all right. She’s in the garden. I know where she keeps it. ” We tiptoed into her room. She was safe in the garden, in the shade of the oak tree. Henry found the opal.

“Look!” he cried. It was then that it happened. I knocked over the table at the side of her bed as I went to take the jewel. There were two bottles of pills on it. The tops were not properly screwed on and they were scattered all over the floor.

“I was dismayed, but Henry said: ” Look, pick them up in a minute. Just look at this. Look how it flashes. I reckon that’s a very fine opal one of the best. ” I was about to proclaim the superiority of my mother’s when I heard Mrs. Marline say something to Tom Yardley and the chair began to move. Henry put the opal quickly back and I started to pick up the pills. There was one idea in our minds. We must not be caught here. I picked them all up. I had put them into the bottles.

They were on the table where they had been and we ran giggling from the room just in time. Carmel, I did not think about that incident until later . much later. I awoke one early morning. The possibility had dawned on me. I had mixed up the pills. They were two different kinds, I was sure now. Mrs. Marline had taken the wrong ones. “

“I can’t believe that, Lucian.”

“I have been trying to tell myself it couldn’t have been like that. I never stop trying to assure myself. But it is a possibility. I should have come forward. I should have told what had happened. But I could not have saved Edward Marline. He was already dead. I was away at school at the time of the trial and the execution, and knew nothing of it until it was over. It was not until a long time after that I realized what could have happened. The idea suddenly came to me. It might have been due to my action. Those pills were in different bottles to distinguish them. They might have looked different. In my haste, I had not thought of that. My one purpose was to get the pills back in their place before I was discovered. Mrs. Marline might have intended to take a small dose but taken a fatal one.”

“Lucian, you are building up a fantasy. How do you know there were two sorts of pills, just because there were two bottles on the table?”

“I saw some newspaper cuttings about the trial once. There was a great deal about the medical evidence and those pills figured largely in it.

What the pills contained was described. There was one which was to be taken only if she were in great pain-and no more than one a day.

Then there was a milder sort, of which she could take three a day. I supposed they were both at her bedside. You can see how it might have happened they were spilt. They were hurriedly picked up and put back anyhow. It is almost certain that some would have got into the wrong bottle. “

“But suppose you did mix them in your haste? There would be some difference in the pills. One would be larger, or of a different colour. You might not have noticed it, but anyone in the habit of taking them would.”

“There was no suggestion at the trial that she had taken the wrong ones by accident. There was no suggestion that they had been put into the wrong bottles. They did not know they had been spilt, of course.

All that was said was that she had taken a massive overdose of strong pills which had proved fatal. As it was so long after they hanged that poor doctor that this occurred to me, I tried to convince myself that it was too late to alter anything. There was nothing I could do to save him. But I can’t stop thinking of Kitty Carson and her daughter, who have to live their lives, as you say, under a threatening cloud. I can’t forget it. It has haunted me for a long time.

“I am glad I have told you, Carmel. I must do … whatever has to be done.”

I’m glad you’ve told me. We’ll talk of it. We’ll work out what has to be done. We must always share. “

He turned to me. We looked at each other for a second and then his arms were round me. He kissed me lingeringly and with a yearning passion. He was asking me to help him. Fleetingly, I thought of him as he had been when I first knew him. The hero who protected me. Now it was his turn to be vulnerable, and I wanted more than anything to care for him.

I knew in that moment that I loved him completely. Understanding was there between us. Barriers had been swept away. I had said it all when I had told him we must share.

“What’s to be done?” I said.

He replied: “You are going to Kitty Carson. I am coming with you.”

I stared at him in astonishment.

“Yes,” he said.

“I thought it out last night. There is that man, the expert, Jefferson Craig. He will know what action to take. I will tell them exactly what happened. I have decided on that. It is the only way I can live now. There will be publicity, but I shall face it. Do you agree, Carmel?”

“I think you will not be at peace until you have faced up to this. But to come with me … I am not sure. We shall have to think more about that. Kitty will not expect me to arrive with anyone. I think the best thing would be that I should first explain to them and perhaps you could come down the following day. Kitty will probably remember you.

You must have seen her now and then when you came to the house. “

“Yes, I do remember her a very pleasant person.”

“I will tell her what you have told me and then we can all talk it over.”

“I think that is probably the best way of doing it. Oh, Carmel, how glad I am that I told you!”

“You should have told me before.”

“I know that now.”

“You have to throw off this sense of guilt. Even if it were as you fear and I cannot believe it happened like that it is not your fault. A boy’s careless act does not make him a murderer.”

“No. But it can make him the cause of someone’s death. And that is a sobering thought. One can’t help its having an effect. Oh, I wish I could be sure that it had not happened that way!”

“We’ll ask Jefferson Craig’s advice. He will know what could be done.”

Lucian smiled suddenly.

“Oh, Carmel,” he said.

“I like the way you say ” we”.”

We were a great deal happier when we left the Gardens. Guilt still hung heavily on Lucian, but now I shared his problem, and we were both aware that through it we had come closer together.

When Kitty met me at the station there was a young girl with her. I knew at once that this was Edwina a pretty girl with considerable charm, and I was immediately aware of the great affection between her and her mother.

“This is my daughter Edwina, Carmel,” said Kitty.

“And Edwina, this is Miss Carmel Sinclair, whom I used to teach.”

Edwina smiled and shook my hand.

There was a gentleness about her which reminded me of the doctor, and I could understand why Kitty was proud of and apprehensive for her.

Kitty drove the trap herself and, as we passed along through those pleasant lanes, I was trying to work out how soon I could approach the matter which was uppermost in my mind.

We made conventional conversation and in due course arrived at the house. It was very pleasant, of three storeys and painted in white, which gave it a clean, fresh look. The house was made attractive by the green shrubs which grew around it. There were steps to the front porch and on the second floor were two balconies, one on either side, which had a charming effect.

As the trap drove up, a young woman appeared on the porch and ran down to greet us. I knew her at once and felt a rush of emotion. Adeline!

She stood still, looking at us. She had aged very little with the years. Her wide, innocent eyes had retained their youth. She must be thirty, but she looked no more than seventeen.

She skipped towards us as a child might. Indeed, I believed Adeline had remained a child at heart. She seemed happy and serene.

A man came out of the stables and took the trap. He touched his forelock to us.

“Thank you, Thomas,” said Kitty. And then: “Adeline. Well, you two know each other.”

Adeline had run to me. She stood there, smiling shyly. I took both her hands and kissed her.

“Adeline,” I said.

“I am so pleased to see you.”

“It’s Carmel,” she said and laughed.

“Yes,” said Kitty.

“Carmel is going to stay with us for a few days.

Won’t that be nice? “

Adeline nodded, and we went into the house.

The hall was spacious and there was an oak chest on which stood a bowl of flowers, arranged, I guessed, by Kitty. A man came into the hall and I knew at once that he was Jefferson Craig. He stooped a little and walked with some difficulty, but the eyes that met mine were among the most alert I had ever seen. They were brown under bushy grey brows and his hair was thick and almost white. He was an old man, but he certainly had a great presence.

He said: “I am so glad you have come to see us. Kitty has been talking of you ever since she came back from your meeting, so you are not exactly a stranger to me. I look forward to getting to know you better.”

“Thank you, and I do not think of you as a stranger either … for I have heard a great deal about you.”

“I shall take her to her room, Jefferson,” said Kitty.

“We’ll get together for lunch. How’s that?”

“Excellent. I’m looking forward to it.”

“So … be with you shortly.”

He nodded and went back to the room which I presumed was his study.

Adeline had slipped her arm through mine.

“Kitty,” she said, “I want to show Carmel her room first.”

“Go ahead, then,” said Kitty.

With the delight of a child, Adeline took my hand. She whispered:

“It’s next to mine.”

“That’s very nice,” I replied.

She was leading me on ahead of the others. Kitty was smiling. Life must have been very good for Adeline since she had gone to Kitty.

There was no doubt of her happiness. I thought how different it had been for her at Commonwood, when all the time she had been terrified of encounters with her mother.

Adeline turned and said to Kitty: “I want to take her through mine first. Kitty.”

“Well,” retorted Kitty, “I don’t suppose she will mind the extra journey.”

I could see that Adeline had not grown up at all. She was still the child she had been all those years ago.

She opened a door and went in, standing aside for me to follow. It was a bright room and I noticed immediately the door which opened on to the balcony. There was a single bed with a blue carpet, a dressing-table and a mirror. On the wall hung many pictures. They were all colourful scenes of happy family life. It was a young girl’s room and it was clear from the manner in which she was watching me that she expected me to exclaim in admiration at it.

“It is lovely,” I said, and I thought how different it was from her room in Commonwood House, with its lofty ceiling and heavy furniture.

This was light and full of colour. Adeline must be very happy now.

She beckoned me to the window.

“Come,” she said, and I followed her on to the balcony. There was a pleasant view of the garden. I looked over the railing. Below was a stone patio with tubs of flowering plants.

Then she took my arm and, glowing with pride, showed me that the balcony extended to the next room, which was to be mine.

She went to it and beckoned to me.

“Carmel,” she said, ‘this is your room. You see, we have the same balcony. If you leave your door open and I do the same with mine, we can call on each other this way. “

“That’s very convenient,” I said.

We had stepped into my room. It was very like Adeline’s, but there were only two pictures on the wall.

The door opened and Kitty came in with Edwina.

Kitty said: “We are going to leave Carmel to hang up her clothes and wash her hands. Then we shall have lunch.” She smiled at me.

“Is everything all right, Carmel?”

I assured her that it was, and she went on: “We shall be in the garden when you are ready.”

“I’ll bring Carmel down,” said Adeline.

“I can see you are going to have a guardian angel,” commented Kitty.

“I’ll be your guardian angel, Carmel,” cried Adeline.

“Thank you,” I replied.

They left me. There was a basin and ewer in a small alcove and I washed. Then I unpacked and hung up the few things I had brought with me.

I was feeling a little apprehensive, wondering what their reaction would be when they heard what I had to tell them. I was eagerly waiting for an opportunity to do so. It would not be possible, of course, in the presence of Edwina or Adeline.

I suddenly felt as though I were being watched. It was an uncanny feeling.

I swung round. Adeline was standing at the door to the balcony.

“Hello, Carmel,” she said, as though we had not seen each other for some time.

“I shall take you down,” she said.

“I’m not quite ready yet.”

She came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

“In Australia.”

She wrinkled her brows and repeated: “Australia?”

“It’s on the other side of the world.”

“Why?”

“Why is it there or why was I there?”

“You,” she said.

“Well, I was taken there a long time ago.”

“When we went.”

“Yes, about that time.”

“It was horrible. I hated it.” Her face suddenly distorted in fury.

“Then I came to Kitty.” In half a second, she had changed from hatred to sheer joy.

“It’s very good now,” I said.

“I am so glad you came to Kitty, Adeline. That must have been wonderful.”

She nodded. Then she said: “Why did you come here?”

“I met Kitty and she asked me.”

She nodded again, as though she were satisfied about something which had troubled her.

“Shall we go down?” I suggested.

“I am ready now.”

Kitty and Jefferson Craig were in the garden. Edwina was with them. We sat and talked for a time about the journey and my friends in London and Australia. I was getting impatient. I think Kitty was aware of this, for she smiled at me, as though to say there would be plenty of opportunity to talk later.

We had an enjoyable lunch. There was a maid, Annie, who waited at table and I discovered that the cook-housekeeper had been in Jefferson’s employ for many years. So they lived comfortably, but not ostentatiously.

It was not until after the meal that the opportunity came to talk to Kitty and Jefferson. Edwina had taken Adeline off somewhere and the three of us sat under the oak tree, looking across the lawn to the house. That was the moment, and I lost no time in telling them about Lucian’s confession.

Jefferson was very interested.

“Poor young man!” he said.

“What a dilemma! And he has carried the burden of guilt for a long time. One can see exactly how it happened.

He jolted the table, the pills were scattered over the floor, the fearsome Mrs. Marline would be wheeled in at any moment when she would discover him in her bedroom. He falls into a panic. His one aim is to get the pills back and escape. Well, I would say it is just possible, but highly improbable that he was responsible for the woman’s death.”

“Improbable!” I cried.

“Oh, if only he could see that!”

“Let us consider it all. There must have been some difference in the pills. They would probably be of a different colour … a different size. Lucian was in a panic. He did not notice these differences. His one aim was to get them into the bottles and escape. Mrs. Marline took the pills regularly. She would be well aware of the difference between the strong ones and the others. I could not think she would have taken the stronger ones unless she intended ” So you think Lucian could not have been responsible? ” I cried.

“It is, of course, a possibility. But by no means a certainty.”

“Lucian thinks he has been wrong in not letting it be known. He fears that a man may have been hanged because of his carelessness.”

“But Lucian could do nothing about it at the time,” put in Kitty.

“He was away at school, wasn’t he, and he did not know what was happening until it was too late for him to intervene.”

“There are you and Edwina to consider,” I reminded her, and we talked of the effect it could have on Edwina if it was discovered who her father was.

“I have often thought of that,” said Kitty.

“If Edward’s name could be cleared, it would be a great blessing.”

I said to Jefferson: “Lucian and I thought you would know what action ought to be taken in a case like this. I don’t think Lucian will be at peace with himself until he has told what happened.”

“I see what you mean,” said Jefferson.

“And it is true that there are Kitty and Edwina to consider. If this came out, there would be more publicity to contend with, and the case would be brought before the public. Attention would be focused on Kitty, which would be the worst possible thing for Edwina. If we could come up definitely with the one who had killed Grace Marline … someone who confessed … there would, of course, be a great deal of notice then, but it would be well worth it. We should have a conclusion to the case, and Edward Marline’s name would be cleared. Kitty would be beyond suspicion and she need have no fear for Edwina. That would be quite a different matter from a flimsy possibility.”

I told them that I had arranged for Lucian to call the next day.

“I should have asked your permission first, but there was no time, and, believe me, please, he is very distressed. He thinks Jefferson could tell him what has to be done. “

“It will be good to see him,” said Kitty.

“I remember him. He was such a nice boy. You were very fond of him in those days, Carmel.”

“He was always kind to me and a little attention meant a great deal to me at that time.”

“Yes, I know.”

“We shall look forward to seeing him very much.”

“He will arrive in the afternoon on the two o’clock train. Is that all right?”

“Of course,” said Kitty.

Jefferson said: “This is very interesting. I shall enjoy talking to him. In the meantime, I shall brood on this. There may be something we can do. I just feel at the moment that it is all rather suppositious, and I’m wondering whether, if he did reveal what he fears to be his guilt, he might not do more harm than good. However, I always like to think over these matters. We’ll have a long talk tomorrow. That’s always useful. My word, this is getting interesting.”

“What a big pan those opals play, don’t they?” went on Kitty.

“You remember, Carmel. Adeline was looking for them when she pulled out the drawer which resulted in that dreadful scene.”

“Yes, I remember vividly.”

There was a rustle in the bushes. We all turned in that direction from whence it came.

“Some animal,” said Jefferson.

“Perhaps a fox?” suggested Kitty.

“I hardly think so,” said Jefferson.

“We were talking of those opals,” continued Kitty.

“Some people say they are unlucky. I’ve never liked them since. They certainly brought bad luck to Lucian and poor Adeline.”

There was a sudden movement from the bushes and Adeline was running across the lawn to the house.

“It must have been Adeline, not a fox, we heard in the bushes,” said Kitty.

We watched her go into the house.

“She is a strange child,” went on Kitty.

“So absolutely childish at times. Then she will astonish you with her knowledge. Her memory is prodigious. Sometimes she will make a remark about the past which astonishes me. Of course, she did live through that terrible time like the rest of us. It must have left its mark on her.”

“She is so happy to be with you.”

“Oh yes. There is no doubt of that. At first, when she came here, she was really disturbed. All she needs is understanding.”

Then we went back to talking about the great problem, and I was longing for the time when Lucian would join us.

He arrived in the early afternoon of the next day. Both Kitty and Jefferson greeted him warmly and told him how pleased they were that he had come. Jefferson said right away that I had explained his problem to them and he was looking forward to discussing it.

Adeline cried out when she saw him: “It’s Lucian! Lucian, I’m Adeline.

Do you remember me? “

Lucian said that he did and was gratified that she remembered him.

“You’re bigger,” she said.

“A lot bigger.”

“You haven’t changed much.”

She smiled to herself.

It was not long before Kitty contrived for the four of us to be alone together, and we sat under the same tree where we were yesterday, and we were soon in deep discussion.

Jefferson listened intently to Lucian’s version of the incident, and when he came to the conclusion, he told them that he had made up his mind that he must confess and he wanted Jefferson to tell him how it should be done.

Jefferson waved his hand, then said he was not sure that it would be wise. He then set forth his reasons and brought forth the points he had made to Kitty and me yesterday. It was not good enough, he said, to say that Grace Marline had died because the pills had been mixed. We had to think of the publicity there would be if this new theory was put forth, and it was by no means conclusive.

Lucian listened with great attention. There might have been a difference in the pills. He could not remember. His one objective had been to get them back into the bottles.

“The more I think of it, the less I like of this idea of making it known,” said Jefferson.

“Then I must go through my life not knowing whether I was responsible for that woman’s death,” said Lucian.

“A crime for which her husband went to the gallows.”

“You would do that in any case,” Jefferson pointed out.

“For how does your confession alter the fact that it can only be a possibility? In fact, it is only just remotely possible that she died because the pills were mixed. You must not blame yourself. You had no intention of doing anyone any harm.”

I was watching Lucian closely. I should have to make sure he did not go on blaming himself. But I knew it would always be there . to haunt us until the end of our lives.

He thanked Kitty and Jefferson for taking such an interest in what Jefferson called his dilemma.

“It is ours, too,” said Kitty.

She was right. How strange it was that we were all caught up in this tragedy. It had affected the lives of every one of us and it seemed as though it could go on doing so for the rest of our lives. We could not escape from the tragic consequences of the events of yesterday.

Kitty said that Lucian must stay the night. The train service was not ideal and they had another spare room which Annie could easily make up. It was no trouble at all. They enjoyed his company. There was so much to talk of, and talking helped in cases like this. That was when ideas came and they could be studied from all points of view. That, said Jefferson, was the way to arrive at the right solution.

So Lucian stayed.

He and I went for a walk in the evening. It had been Kitty’s suggestion. She was aware of our feelings for each other and she guessed we should like to be alone.

Lucian and I walked down to the village and then beyond. I slipped my arm through his and he pressed it against him.

“It is good to be here with you,” he said.

“I couldn’t wait to get here. What delightful, interesting people they are.”

“You look better already,” I told him.

“I should have talked to you before.”

“It is they who have lifted your spirits. You do feel better now, I know. You realize that it is as Jefferson says-just a possibility.

There was nothing you could have done. “

“I’m not sure.”

“But you can see what they mean about the publicity it would raise.”

“It might clear his name.”

“Only if it proved to be true, and how could anyone ever be sure of that? Jefferson is right. It would only bring the case to the fore again. Most people will have forgotten the Marline case by now. Oh, Lucian, don’t you see? We have to leave it. It would only revive it all, and then not many would believe that it was because the pills were mixed. Don’t you see? We can do nothing. We have to forget. In any case, it was an accident. If you could have told what had happened before Dr. Marline died, it would have been different. But you can’t bring back yesterday. It has to be forgotten.”

“I don’t think I can forget that I may have caused the death of two people-and one of them hanged for the murder of the other.”

“You will forget, Lucian, because I am going to make you.”

“You will take that on, then?”

“Most joyfully.”

“A little while ago you were so uncertain.”

“I am no longer so.”

“You have changed suddenly.”

“I don’t altogether understand myself. You were the one I always loved since you found my pendant, took me to tea with the others and repaired the clasp of the chain. I remember every minute of that day.”

“It was nothing much. What about Lawrence Emmerson’s gallant rescue at Suez?”

“It must have been something more than the lost pendant. Of course it was. You have changed everything for me. When my father died, I thought I should never be happy again. You showed me that I can be.

Perhaps that’s it. You ask me why I changed so suddenly. I think it was when I saw you so unhappy with this great burden. You seemed young then not the grand fellow I used to think you. You needed help. Oh, I suppose there are a hundred reasons why one suddenly knows one is in love. “

“Carmel, I know too that I can be happy. I believe I can forget this thing. In any case, I can convince myself that it was an accident and there is nothing I can do about it now. It was the best thing that could have happened when you decided to get in touch with Kitty. I suppose I shall have my dark moments when the sense of guilt overcomes me, but you will be there, Carmel. I have to keep reminding myself of that. You will be there.”

“I shall be there,” I repeated.

“We shall be together.”

“Then we should plan to marry … soon.”

“What will your mother say?”

“She will say. Glory Be! For some time she has wanted me to marry. She is the sort of woman who would like to have a hand in choosing her son’s bride, and I have been receiving hints for some time that she has chosen you for that questionable honour.”

“Don’t laugh at it. It is an honour and I want it more than anything.”

“When, then?”

“I think we should discuss that with your mother.”

“I shall talk to her as soon as I return, and next weekend you must come down so that plans can go ahead.”

I was happy, as I had thought I should never be again. I would go on mourning Toby all my life, and Lucian would remember that, because of an accident, he might have been responsible for the death of two people. That could not be changed. But we had each other. He would comfort me for my loss and I would be beside him when his fears were with him.

We should be happy. We would build our lives together. We knew what we wanted and we were going to do all in our power to attain it.

When we returned there was some consternation in the house. Adeline was agitated. She was saying: “It is dangerous. People could fall over. You know what happened to that lady at Garston Towers.”

“That was different,” soothed Kitty.

“That was the castle ramparts.”

She turned to me.

“It’s nothing much. One of the stakes on the balcony has worked loose. Adeline has only just noticed it.”

She smiled at me, her eyebrows raised to imply that Adeline could be unnecessarily excited over such things.

She went on: “Tom from the stables will be coming over at any minute.

He’ll soon fix it. “

“Shall I look at it?” asked Lucian.

“No need to bother,” replied Kitty.

“Oh, I’ll have a look.”

We went up to my room. The balcony in question was the one shared by Adeline and me.

“Where is it?” said Lucian.

“Oh, I see.” He knelt and examined the faulty stake. It moved as he touched it.

“Tom can usually fix these things,” said Kitty.

“It’s dangerous,” cried Adeline.

“People could fall over. There was that lady at Garston Towers.”

I heard Edwina calling Adeline, who seemed to forget the stake and went off to her.

Kitty said: “Adeline gets disturbed about things that make an impression on her. The Garston Towers affair really caught her imagination. She often refers to it. Tom will soon mend that thing.

The best thing in the meantime is to keep well away from it. “

Tom arrived. He examined the balcony and agreed with Lucian. He said the best thing to do would be to put a new stake in. He’d get Blacksmith Healy to make one. He would have it shipshape in a few days. Meanwhile, he’d patch it up a bit.

While I was dressing for dinner that evening, I again had that feeling of being watched. This time I was not surprised to see Adeline at the balcony door.

“Hello,” she said.

“Are you having a nice time here?”

“Yes, thank you, Adeline.”

“You were away a long time.”

“Yes, I was.”

“Why did you come now? Was it to tell Kitty something?”

“Well, just to be with her again. We were always good friends. Don’t you remember?”

“Yes. I remember it all. Do you know about Lady Garston?”

“Only what I heard you say.”

“It was at Garston. Garston is a castle … very big. She used to walk along the battlements. Do you know what battlements are?”

“Yes.”

“It was dangerous there and they had put up a railing. People used to stand up there and throw boiling oil down on invaders.”

“My goodness! That must have been a long time ago!”

“One day Lady Garston went up there. She leaned over the railing and it broke. She fell down … down … and then she was dead.”

“Poor Lady Garston!”

“She didn’t know the railing was loose.”

“Well, we know ours is, so we have to be careful until it is mended.”

“It would kill us just the same.”

“Oh, let’s be more cheerful. That’s a pretty dress you are wearing.”

Her expression changed to one of pleasure.

“Kitty chose it for me.”

“It suits you.”

“Kitty says I ought to wear pretty clothes.”

I smiled at her.

“You love Kitty dearly, don’t you?”

“I love Kitty more than anything else in the world … more than anyone ever loved anyone. I love Kitty.” She looked at me very steadily.

“No one must ever take Kitty away from me.”

“I am sure no one would want to. Oh, look, it’s time we went down to dinner.”

After dinner, when Lucian and I were alone with Kitty and Jefferson, we returned to the subject which was uppermost in the minds of us all.

Jefferson had not changed his opinion. He still believed that at this stage the mixing of the pills should be kept to ourselves.

“I’d like to go on mulling it over,” he said.

“You don’t need to go tomorrow, do you?” he asked Lucian.

“Could you stay another day? There is nothing like talking something over, even if you do go over the same ground again and again. It helps one to come to a conclusion.”

Lucian said: “The offer is very tempting.”

“Sometimes it is good to give way to temptation,” said Kitty, ‘and I am sure this is one of them. “

“Well then, thank you for your hospitality and your interest in my problem.”

“It is also ours,” replied Kitty.

I lay in bed. Sleep was evasive. I was not surprised. I was thinking of Lucian and how much I loved him, and how wonderful it was to have made contact with Jefferson, who was so positive in his thinking and had already done a great deal to ease Lucian’s mind.

I heard a faint sound and opened my eyes. Adeline was at the door which opened on to the balcony.

“Carmel,” she cried in alarm.

“Come … quick … please hurry.”

I leaped out of bed.

“What is it?”

“Please … please come.”

I followed her on to the balcony. She stopped suddenly.

“It’s here,” she said.

She held my arm and was gripping it very firmly. She took me to the balcony railing. There was a wildness in her eyes.

I cried out: “Adeline! Be careful! Remember …”

She held me firmly by both my arms. Her face was distorted. She looked quite different from the Adeline I knew. She was forcing me against the balcony, and I knew then what she was trying to do. The balcony was faulty. The stake was loose. And she was trying to push me over! I felt the railing move. It had fallen. I heard it rattle to the stone patio below.

Now, I thought. Now! And with all my strength I tried to free myself.

But she was strong and her grip was firm. There was a menacing look in her face.

I was saying: “Why … why?”

She was still gripping me firmly and then she suddenly began to sob.

We swayed a little. In vain, I made every effort to free myself, and then suddenly she was pulling me away from the balcony.

She was still holding me in that vice-like grip while she went on sobbing bitterly.

“I can’t do it,” she was whimpering.

“I can’t kill Carmel. Not Carmel”

I felt this must be a bad dream. It could not be real. But she had meant to kill me. Why? It was for this reason that she had been obsessed by the faulty balcony. She had meant to push me over, and if she had . well, that would have been the end for me. What was in her poor troubled mind? Why had she turned against me?

She went on sobbing.

“Adeline,” I said, ‘what does this mean? What are you trying to do?”

“I couldn’t do it,” she said.

“I couldn’t kill you, Carmel. But I won’t let anyone take Kitty away from me.”

I managed to get her into my bedroom. We sat side by side on the bed and I put my arm round her.

“Adeline,” I said, ‘please tell me what is troubling you. I dare say it can be explained. “

“You hate me now,” she said.

“You know, don’t you?”

“I don’t hate you. I never could. I’m very fond of you. We were always good friends in the past, weren’t we?”

She nodded.

“You came to tell her,” she said.

“You know. I heard you talking. I know what it’s all about. It’s about her … my mother … my wicked mother. She was going to send Kitty away. She wouldn’t have let me see her any more.”

“Adeline,” I said, ‘suppose you tell me exactly what this is all about.”

“They’ll take me away from Kitty,” she said.

“They won’t. Kitty loves you. You’ll always be with her.”

“I won’t let them take me away from her. I won’t.”

“No, of course. But why did you want to hurt me’ ” You were going to find out. You brought Lucian down here. I heard you talking about it. You were going to tell Kitty to prove it all. You were going to tell them all . the newspaper men . the police . and all of them. “

Tell them what, Adeline? “

That I did it. I killed her. You came down to tell them. “

“You killed your mother?”

“She was going to send Kitty away. She was cruel. Nobody loved her. It was better without her. She frightened me. She caught me in her room.

I only wanted to show Lucian the opal when the drawer came out . and then Kitty came for me, and my mother was so angry she said Kitty was to go. I went into her room when she was lying in her bed. She was gasping and couldn’t breathe very well. She said: “Pills … pills.”

Just that. So I put a lot of them in a glass and gave them to her. She drank it. And then she was dead. But they took us off to Aunt Florence, and I wouldn’t stay there, and after a time they sent me to Kitty. Then I thought you had come to spoil it all. “

“Oh, Adeline, my poor, poor Adeline.”

She leaned against me, sobbing.

“I came back to Kitty,” she said.

“It was lovely here. It’s the best place in the world. I can’t go away from Kitty. And you came here, and I listened and you were always talking to them about … what you knew and you were going to tell them and when they knew they would take me away from Kitty. I can’t go away from Kitty. It’s safe here. It’s my home. I didn’t really want to hurt you … but I had to … and then I couldn’t do it, because I like you too much.”

“Adeline, I did not know what you thought I did. You didn’t get it right. I came to see Kitty and we did talk about that. Now, you must stop crying. I am going to call Kitty now. She will know what to do.

I’ll be back in a moment. “

She was quiet suddenly.

“Kitty,” she said.

“She’ll know … but now I’ve told … Kitty will know what to do.”

I left her. I ran to Kitty’s room. She was asleep and I roused her hastily. I told her she must come at once. There had been a scene with Adeline.

She was out of bed in seconds.

“What’s happened?” she said.

“She’s been talking about the past. Please come quickly. She frightened me.”

We ran to the bedroom. She was not there. Her balcony door was open, but she was not in her room.

Then I went to the edge of the balcony where the faulty stake had been.

I looked over. Adeline was lying on the patio below.

She was taken to the hospital and Kitty was with her all the time and she was happy.

She felt little pain, the doctor told us. Her spine was irrevocably injured. She was quite lucid at times and she talked of the past.

She told us all again and again including the doctor and nurses -how she administered the pills which had killed her mother and why she had felt it was necessary to do so. She knew about the pills because she had heard the district nurse talking about them to Nanny Gilroy and Mrs. Barton. She had listened a great deal. People thought she couldn’t understand, so they talked in front of her.

She knew that her mother was going to send Kitty away, and for that reason she, Adeline, had killed her. She had been sent to Aunt Florence, and had made them hate her so much that they begged Kitty to take her. Then everything was right and she was happy for a long time.

But now they knew she had killed her mother they would take her away from Kitty. She did not think they would hang her because they would say she was silly, but she would rather that than live away from Kitty. But this was the best way and Kitty would be with her till she died, which she knew would be soon.

She had told me she was going to kill me because she thought I knew she had killed her mother. But I had been her friend and she couldn’t do it after all, so she had tried to kill herself. Lady Garston had fallen from the battlements, so she fell from the balcony.

She lived for two days. She had made her confession not only to me but in the presence of several people and in doing so had banished the cloud which hung over so many of us.

As Jefferson had predicted, there was a great deal of publicity.

Adeline’s confession of guilt, the fact that an innocent man had been hanged for a crime he had not committed, had aroused public interest and for a few weeks there was comment throughout the press. Kitty, with Jefferson and Edwina, went abroad for a few months to escape attention. The case was closed, solved without a doubt. Adeline’s last dramatic act had settled that.

I felt sad when I thought of poor Adeline’s life, but I remembered the joy she had displayed when she and Kitty were together. Surely she had been happy then. I think her conscience had not worried her a great deal. Her mother was wicked, she would reason, causing unhappiness to many people. She had deserved to die. And her father? How had she thought of him? She had not known him well, but he had never been unkind to her. She had probably been able to put him from her mind.

Lucian and I were married three months later. Lady Crompton had insisted on making it a more grand affair than either Lucian or I wanted, but that was of small importance.

We were too happy to care.