A cold treachery - Charles Todd [117]
She opened her mouth to say something, and then shut it firmly.
“They've been very useful,” he went on. “Everyone was sympathetic. You were injured, grieving, the waiting was too much for you, and so you did what you could to keep your spirits up. Elizabeth even saw you at the churchyard. Paying your respects to the dead.”
“They are my dead!” she told him flatly.
“And the churchyard is close enough to The Ram's Head that you could see when Paul Elcott left for the farm. It was easy enough to put the broken cuff link in the vase on the mantel. He seldom locks his doors.”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” she retorted. “You're saying, I think, that I've tried to make Paul Elcott look guilty. It's true. But I took back the button I'd twisted off his coat after the funeral. It was hanging on the coatrack in the hall while everyone was in the dining room. I thought I could use the button. Afterward I felt ashamed of myself. Grief does strange things sometimes. And I was so angry that you'd done nothing.”
“And the cuff link?” He took it out and showed it to her, as if he'd found that in the rose-twined vase as well.
“No, you can't blame that on me as well!” she snapped indignantly.
“Where did you run into Paul Elcott, the night you arrived at High Fell in the early hours of the storm?”
The switch in subjects caught her off balance. “I never saw him!”
“But you did, that's why you're so certain he's guilty. You saw him leave the farm—you'd heard him arguing with Gerald. There in the barn? Or in the yard? Where you could see them and not be seen by them. But you heard something, didn't you? Loud voices, words both of them must have wished later that they could take back?”
It was a shot in the dark, but she was staring at him as if he'd just produced a crystal ball. A small change in the line of her jaw, a sudden tension around the eyes, told him he was on the right track.
“Paul saw you. Or the tracks of your carriage. You might as well tell me the truth. It might go a long way towards proving he was there, and angry enough to kill. A witness, since we don't have Josh to tell us what happened afterward.”
The temptation was there, he could feel it. But she was wary, thinking through what could condemn her and what would surely put the noose around Paul Elcott's neck.
“He will use it to convince his lawyers that you should be in the dock in his place. And in turn, they'll use what he knows to cast doubt on his guilt. A reasonable doubt . . . that's all the jury is required to feel. He'll go free, and there's no possibility of trying him a second time.”
He had to admire her for having the courage to stand there and resist him. He remembered how little she'd cried out as he'd pulled her from the overturned carriage. In spite of the pain . . .
“On the other hand,” he carried on, “there're a good many pieces of evidence against you.” He began to tick them off the fingers of his left hand. “James Follet will testify that you possessed a revolver. The police at the barrier in Keswick can testify that you never passed them—going in either direction. When I asked if you wanted us to contact any family you might have in the vicinity, to let them know you were safe, you told me you had none. If you hadn't killed your sister, how could you know she was dead? Fourth—the button you took—” But she stopped him before he could finish.
“I didn't know! I came here to talk to Grace. Not to kill her! I wanted her to go back to Hugh, now that the twins were born and she'd finished her duty to Gerald. My leave was nearly up. I had to make a decision. Either stay in Carlisle or return to London. I couldn't put it off any longer!”
“If you were only expecting to talk to her, why bring a revolver?”
She turned away. “I have told you.”
“Gerald had a weapon. Grace could have used that if she'd needed it. Your story doesn't hold.”
She said nothing.
“Then tell me. What happened at the farm?”
The tension in the room was so great