Read Online Pilgrim’s Rest by Patricia Wentworth - Free Book Online Page A

fingers.
    “Mr. Pilgrim-Miss Columba-Miss Janetta-Roger-”
    She stopped him with a cough.
    “You did not mention him before.”
    “Didn’t I? Oh, well, he was there-seven days’ leave. Jack was abroad out east, so he wasn’t… Where was I?” He ticked off the fourth finger of his left hand-“Roger,” and went on to the fifth-“Jerome-Lona Day-Henry himself-and the staff.”
    She wrote down the names and looked up at him.
    “Of what did the staff consist?”
    “At that time? Let me see… Mr. and Mrs. Robbins-two young village girls, Ivy Rush and Maggie Pell-that’s the lot. But Maggie and Ivy didn’t sleep in, so they’re a wash-out.”
    Miss Silver wrote that down.
    “And who were in the house when Mr. Pilgrim met with his fatal accident?”
    “The same as before-but not Roger. He was in the Middle East being taken prisoner about then.”
    “And who is in the house now?”
    He cocked an eyebrow, and thought, “Roger must have told her that. What’s she up to?” Aloud he replied,
    “Same lot again plus Roger and minus the two girls, who have both been called up. Maggie’s younger sister has taken her place. Their grandfather, old Pell, is gardener at Pilgrim’s Rest-been there since the year one.”
    “And the other girl has been replaced by Miss Judy Elliot?”
    Looking up to ask this question, she observed a slight change in his expression. It was so slight that with anyone else it would have passed unnoticed. It did, however, prepare Miss Silver for the fact that his voice as he answered her was also not quite as usual, the difference being hard to define.
    He said, “Oh, yes.” And then, “She’s a friend of mine, you know. But I had nothing to do with her going there-in fact, I did my best to stop her. She’s got a child tagging along-her sister’s. I don’t like their being there-I don’t like it a bit. That’s one reason why I’m so glad you’re going down.”
    It wasn’t the slightest good-he was giving himself away right and left. Maudie could see through him like a pane of glass.
    Whatever she saw, Miss Silver showed no consciousness of its being anything unusual. The friendly attention of her manner was unchanged as she said,
    “There should not be any risk for them.”
    He leaned towards her with a hand on the table.
    “Look here, what are you driving at with these three lists? You’re not trying to make out that Henry’s disappearance has anything to do with Roger’s bonnetful of bees?”
    Miss Silver gave her slight habitual cough.
    “My dear Frank, in the last three years a number of unusual things have happened at Pilgrim’s Rest. Mr. Henry Clayton disappeared on the eve of his wedding. Mr. Pilgrim met with a fatal accident which his groom and his son believe not to have been an accident at all. And this son is now convinced that two serious attempts have been made upon his own life. I do not assert that these things are connected, but so strange a series of coincidences would certainly seem to call for careful investigation. There is just one thing more I wished to ask you. When Mr. Henry Clayton disappeared, was he known to have any money with him?”
    Frank straightened up.
    “Well, yes, I ought to have told you about that. It’s one of the strongest reasons for supposing that he was doing a bolt. Mr. Pilgrim had given him a cheque for fifty pounds as a wedding-present. Henry asked if he could have it in notes because he would need the cash for his honeymoon. Everyone in the family knew that old Pilgrim kept money in the house. Well, when Henry asked him if he could have the cash he took back the cheque and tore it up. Roger told me about it-he was there. Said his father went off upstairs and came back with four ten-pound notes and two fivers, and Henry got out his wallet and put them away.”
    “Was anyone else present?”
    “Robbins came in with some wood for the fire whilst Henry was putting the notes away. He said he saw Mr. Henry putting his wallet away