Dark Threat by Patricia Wentworth - Miss Silver 10 - Dark Threat

Author:Patricia Wentworth - Miss Silver 10 - Dark Threat [Wentworth, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781453223710
Google: I_ATML4wF8kC
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Goodreads: 12077443
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2011-06-27T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-SEVEN

IT WAS AT this moment that is was borne in upon Frank Abbott that three was no longer company. All the time that they had been together in the study he had been aware of something in Miss Silver’s attitude. He couldn’t put a name to it, but she wasn’t running true to form—he couldn’t get any nearer to it than that. If she agreed with what March had been saying, why not chip in and say so with a bright quotation from the late Alfred, Lord Tennyson, or a home-made moral of her own? If she didn’t agree, she had her own polite but quite pungent ways of saying so. Why, to quote out of her own book, should Maud be ‘faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null’?

And then all at once he got the idea. It was a case of ‘not before the child’. She wouldn’t disagree with Randall March or seem to criticize him in his own district in front of a junior officer from the Yard. Maudie had been very nicely brought up. She had spent a considerable portion of her adult life in bringing up the young in the way that they should go. She would rather die than display a lack of delicacy, especially if, as he suspected, she really had no solid grounds for either her delicacy or her disagreement. He thought perhaps it would be a good thing if the junior officer from the Yard were to make himself scarce. It occurred to him that he might achieve a word or two with Judy.

He said, ‘I’ll be around if you give me a call,’ and melted from the scene.

Left alone, neither March nor Miss Silver spoke at once. He was putting his papers together, but presently he looked up from them to say,

‘What is it?’

She had gone over to the fire and stood looking down into it, her knitting-bag slung on her left arm. At the sound of his voice she turned and said,

‘Shall you be using this room any more, Randall? If you will, I had better make up the fire.’

‘No—yes—I don’t know. You didn’t answer my question. I said, “What is it?” ’

Miss Silver coughed.

‘And what did you mean by that?’

‘As if you didn’t know! You’re holding something back, and I’d like to know what it is.’

She stood where she was, looking at him with a grave and thoughtful expression.

‘I am not happy about this case, Randall.’

He met her look with a very direct one.

‘Nor am I. But I wonder if we mean the same thing. I should be glad if you would let me have your point of view.’

She said, ‘I do not think I have one. I will be quite frank with you now that we are alone. The death of Roger Pilgrim weighs upon me. He told the police that he believed his life to be in danger. He told me the same thing. He died. The police did not believe him—I did. I commended a certain course of action which would, I think, have afforded him some protection.

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