“I think we all noticed them.”
“Then I needn’t say much more about that. As I say, I got to Beech Lodge, and she looked straight in my face and didn’t know me for her husband. She knew that she had known me before, but that was all, if you understand. I couldn’t force myself on her without destroying what little comfort she got out of being near her master, though God knows that was more pain than comfort. At the same time, I couldn’t leave her without some kind of protection, for I had never wanted any woman but her, so I applied for the job of gardener, and got it, perhaps because I knew the country Mr. Millicent was thinking of most of the time. There I was, working for the same people as my own wife, but no more a husband of my wife’s than one of my own shrubs. The jade god had her for its own, and it had Mr. Millicent, too. The fear was on him. I could see that.”
“Why didn’t you tell Mr. Millicent the truth as soon as you got to Beech Lodge?”
“Because my wife would have gone clean mad if I had, for he would have tried to send her away. And back of all this I knew there were those in the Mong Hills who would never rest or be content till they got the damned thing back in their own hands. What’s more, they weren’t the sort who cared much what they did to get it. Millicent’s life wouldn’t be worth a snap of the finger when they found out where he was, if they thought he had it. That was always in my head. And there was she, moving further and further away from me, and more and more in love with him. Can you see the sort of life I led? But the master was always straight with me, and no man ever had a better boss.”
“The night you applied to me for a job,” put in Derrick, “I asked her if she thought under all the circumstances I would do well to take you on, and she said yes, if I wanted a garden like Mr. Millicent’s. How do you explain that?”
“Simple enough, sir. She remembered me as a gardener for Mr. Millicent, and that I was good with flowers, and nothing else.” He broke off in distress and sent Blunt a pathetic glance.
“You people are getting the truth,” said the latter, fingering his handcuffs. “Go on, Martin.”
“Well, I waited and waited, knowing that that lot in the Mong Hills would never forget, or give the thing up, and the jade god was working somewhere in the dark. Then came the night when it happened. I was out behind the cottage when my wife came tearing down the drive like a crazy woman, screaming that she had had a terrible dream and Mr. Millicent was dead. She was only half dressed, with her hair down, and just for a minute I thought the worst of them both, then saw that she was in a sort of daze as she used to be when once or twice I caught her walking in her sleep. The knife was in her hand. I guessed what had happened and got it away from her, and wiped the blood from her fingers, and all the time she kept on talking as though she didn’t see me. I told her it was only a dream and went up to the house with her and found it was as she said.”
Martin’s voice faltered here, and he looked beseechingly at Derrick. “What would you have done, sir, if you’d been me?”
“I think probably exactly the same.”