But he never knew what the past hour or two had cost her—she was too good an actor for that; nor did he guess that she had watched him to the gate, her eyes dim, feeling more lonely than ever before in her life. She admitted there was much she did not understand, or even want to understand, but he did not perceive how often she had come nearly to the breaking-point. With Edith it was as with many another woman, the cost of whose sacrifice is hidden too deep for discovery, and only the beauty of it revealed.
Jean and her mother were together, and Mrs. Millicent greeted him with a quiet affection that touched him deeply. It meant that not only had Jean told her of the tragedy of the night before but also that she saw in him more than the man who had solved the mystery of her husband’s death. Jean’s eyes met his own as she gave him her hand, and they carried a message that needed no speech. Mrs. Millicent regarded them both with a gentle pleasure in which there was no surprise, then waited a little nervously. The picture of the study of Beech Lodge and what had happened there still haunted her brain.
“Jean told me you were to have a talk with Martin and the peddler this morning,” she said. “Did you see them?”
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“Did they tell you anything new about my—my husband?” She had summoned all her courage for this question and wanted it over.
Derrick shook his head. “There was very little about that and nothing of real importance. It was mostly about the image he found in Burma which Blunt says has a good deal of past history that makes it of special interest to certain people there. Both men agreed that it carried bad luck, and sometimes danger, wherever it went. It’s quite obvious that in some way it fascinated Mr. Millicent; and”—here he hesitated an instant—“it seems to have exercised later on the same influence over Perkins; and,” he concluded slowly, “the thing worked in her brain till finally she did what she did.”
Mrs. Millicent shivered. “I know it impressed him tremendously. That was clear from the day he got back from Burma. He once told me he thought it was valuable, but it always frightened me because of its effect on him. It seemed to carry some dreadful secret with it. I asked him to destroy it several times, but that rather shocked him. He never let it out of his own hands and always hid it where you found it.”
“Do you feel that way about it now?”
“Yes, more than ever.”
“Then may I destroy it?” he asked quickly.