Miss Arnott's Marriage

"He's got his head screwed on right enough for a countryman."

"Well, Mrs Forrester called this afternoon for the express purpose of informing me that Briggs the postman saw me in the woods at two o'clock this morning in my nightdress."

"But, miss, it's impossible! Did you ever walk in your sleep?"

"Never to my knowledge. Have you ever had occasion to suspect me of anything of the kind?"

"That I certainly have not."

"This time it seems peculiarly incredible, because it was pouring cats and dogs. If I had done anything of the sort there must have been traces on my nightdress, or on something. This is a question I mean to have settled one way or the other. I'm going to have a bed put up in this room, and I'm going to ask you to sleep in it, if you conveniently can, with one eye open. You'll soon find out what my habits are when fast asleep. Between ourselves I believe that this is going to be an opportunity for me to play that favourite character in fiction-the detective-on lines of my own."

"I'll sleep here, miss, and be pleased to do it. But as for your walking in your sleep, I should have found it out long ago if you'd been given that way. I don't believe a word of it; that's all nonsense."

Miss Arnott seemed to reflect before she spoke again.

"I'm not so sure of that-that it's all nonsense, Evans. I'm going to tell you something; at present it's a secret, but I think I can trust you to keep it. You're not the only person who has suspected me of having killed that man."

"Lor' bless you, miss, as if I didn't know that! That's no secret! I don't believe you've any idea yourself of what a dangerous place it is in which you're standing."

"I'll be ready for the danger-when it comes. I'll not be afraid. What I meant was that I have been actually supposed to have been seen killing that man. Someone was seen to kill him, and that someone was a woman."

"You're quite sure, miss, that it wasn't you? You're quite sure?"

"Quite, Evans; don't you be afraid."

"Then if that's so, miss, I don't mind. If you're innocent I don't care what they do; let them do their worst."

"That's what I feel-exactly. But I wish you'd let me make my meaning clear to you! If a woman did do it, then-though I confess I don't understand how-we must all of us be on the wrong scent, and the woman who has been seen wandering through the woods at dead of night-and that such an one has been seen I have good reasons for knowing-is the one we want. So what we have to do is to identify that somnambulist."

"But how are we going to do it?"

"That, as yet, I own is more than I can tell you. The first step is to make sure it isn't me."

"Don't you fret about that, miss; I'm sure it isn't. I'll take these things away and get 'em in soak at once." She gathered up the various garments which her mistress had worn on that fateful night. "I wish you'd let me take that knife; I'd feel safer if you would."

"Thank you, Evans; but at present I'd rather you left the knife with me."

As Evans left the room Mrs Plummer came in, in the state of fluster which, of late, was her chronic condition.

"My dear," she began, "what is this I hear about Wilson? What is this shocking story?"

"Wilson has misbehaved herself and is therefore no longer in my service. I imagine, Mrs Plummer, that that is what you hear. I am sorry you should find it so shocking. It is not such a very unusual thing for a servant to forget herself, is it?"

"I don't know, my dear, when it comes to fighting Bevan and positively assaulting you. But everything seems to be at sixes and sevens; nothing seems to go right, either indoors or out. It makes me most unhappy. And now there's an extraordinary person downstairs who insists on seeing you."

"An extraordinary person? What do you call an extraordinary person? Do you know, Mrs Plummer, that a good deal of your language lately has seemed to me to have had a flavour of exaggeration."

"Exaggeration? You call it exaggeration? I should have thought it would have been impossible to exaggerate some of the things which have happened in this neighbourhood in the last few weeks. But there's no accounting for people. I can only tell you that I should call the person who is below an extraordinary person. Here is her card; she herself thrust it into my hand."

"Mrs Darcy Sutherland? I don't know anyone of that name."

"She knows you, or she pretends she does. I met her on the steps as I was coming in. When I told her you were out-because I thought you had gone on your motor, you said you were going-she replied that she would wait till you came back, if she had to wait a week. That I call an extraordinary remark to make."

"It is rather an unusual one. I will go down and see Mrs Darcy Sutherland."

CHAPTER XXVIII

MRS DARCY SUTHERLAND

As Miss Arnott went to her visitor she had premonitions that more disagreeables were at hand. No one whom she was desirous of seeing would have uttered such a speech as that which Mrs Plummer had repeated. Her premonitions were realised to the full. As she entered the sitting-room, into which the caller had been shown, a big, blowsy, over-dressed woman rose from a chair, whom the girl instantly acknowledged that Mrs Plummer had been perfectly justified in calling an extraordinary person. She was painted, and powdered, and pencilled, and generally got up in a style which made it only too plain what kind of character she was. With a sinking heart Miss Arnott recognised Sarah Stevens, her quondam associate as a model in that costume department of that Regent Street draper's where, once upon a time-it seemed centuries ago-she had earned her daily bread, the woman who had introduced her to Robert Champion, who had urged her to marry him, to whom she owed all the trouble which had come upon her, and whose real character she had learned too late.

She had not expected, as she had asked herself what awaited her now, that it was anything so bad as this.

"You!" she stammered.

"Yes, my dear, me! A nice little surprise for you, isn't it?" The woman advanced towards her with the apparent intention of greeting her with a kiss. Miss Arnott showed by her manner, as much as by the way in which she drew back, that she did not intend to submit to anything of that sort. The visitor was not at all abashed. She continued to smile the hard, mechanical smile of the woman of her class. "You didn't expect to see me, I'll be bound. Perhaps you'd forgotten me, and you thought, perhaps, that I'd forgotten you, but you see I haven't. I've got a very good memory, I have. Well, my love, and how are you? You're not looking so well as I expected; quite peaked, you seem, nothing like so well filled out as you used to be."

"What do you mean by coming here? And by calling yourself Mrs Darcy Sutherland?"

"My dear Vi!"

"Have the goodness not to address me by my Christian name."

"It used to be Vi and Sally in the days gone by. But I suppose circumstances are changed, that sometimes makes a difference. I don't mind, it's all the same to me. I'll call you whatever you choose-Miss Arnott if you like. I'm surprised to find that they all do seem to call you that round here."

"You haven't answered my questions. Why have you come here? And why do you call yourself Mrs Sutherland?"

"As to why I've come here, I'll tell you in half a minute, though there's some who wouldn't ask such a thing of an old friend. Let me get my breath, my love; that rotten old fly shook me all to pieces. As to why I call myself Mrs Sutherland-that does seem an unpleasant remark to make to a lady, let alone an old friend. But I'm not one that's quick to take offence. I call myself Mrs Sutherland because I am Mrs Sutherland. I've married since I saw you last."

"You've married?"

"Yes, why shouldn't I? And, unlike you, I'm not ashamed of my married name, or of my husband's. By the way, my love, you must remember my husband."

"Remember him?"

"Of course you must. He remembers you quite well. He was a friend of your husband's."

"A friend of my husband?"

"Rather. They were pals-thick as thieves. Darcy knew Robert Champion long before you did."

"Darcy?"

"That's my husband's Christian name. You can call him by it if you like, though you don't want me to call you by yours. But then I'm more open-minded, perhaps, than you are, and open-hearted too."

"Be so good as to tell me why you have come here."

The woman took a handkerchief from the bag made of steel beads which was suspended from her waist; opening it out she twiddled it between the white-gloved fingers of either hand. Miss Arnott immediately became conscious of the odour of some strong perfume.