“No, I am Mrs. Gamage. But my sister is in, if you wish to see her.” She spoke with a sort of plaintive softness which French found rather attractive.
“I’m afraid I must trouble you both,” he answered with his kindly smile, as he introduced himself and stated his business.
Mrs. Gamage stepped back into the narrow passage.
“Come in,” she invited. “We are naturally anxious to help you. Besides, the police have been very kind. Nothing could have been kinder than that constable who came round last night with the news. Indeed every one has been more than good. Mr. Duke has just been round himself to inquire. A time like this shows what people are.”
“I was sorry to hear that Mrs. Gething is so unwell,” French observed, and he followed his guide into the tiny front parlour. He was surprised to find the house far from comfortably furnished. Everything, indeed, bore the stamp of an almost desperate attempt to preserve decency and self-respect in the face of a grinding poverty. The threadbare carpet was worn into holes and had been neatly darned, and so had the upholstery of the two rather upright easy chairs. The leg of the third chair was broken and had been mended with nails and wire. Everything was shabby, though spotlessly clean and evidently looked after with the utmost care. Though the day was bitter, no spark of fire burned in the grate. Here, the Inspector thought, was certainly a matter to be inquired into. If Gething was really as poor a man as this furniture seemed to indicate, it undoubtedly would have a bearing on the problem.
“My mother has been an invalid for many years,” Mrs. Gamage answered, unconsciously supplying the explanation French wanted. “She suffers from a diseased hip bone and will never be well. My poor father spent a small fortune on doctors and treatment for her, but I don’t think any of them did her much good. Now this news has broken her down altogether. She is practically unconscious, and we fear the end at any time.”
“Allow me to express my sympathy,” French murmured, and his voice seemed to convey quite genuine sorrow. “What you tell me makes me doubly regret having to force my unpleasant business on your notice. But I cannot help myself.”
“Of course I understand.” Mrs. Gamage smiled gently. “Ask what you want and I shall try to answer, and when you have finished with me I’ll relieve Esther with mother and send her down.”
But there was not a great deal that Mrs. Gamage could tell. Since her marriage some four years previously she had seen comparatively little of her father. That she idolised him was obvious, but the cares of her own establishment prevented her paying more than an occasional visit to her old home. French therefore soon thanked her for her help, and asked her to send her sister down to him.
Esther Gething was evidently the younger of the two. She was like Mrs. Gamage, but better looking. Indeed, she was pretty in a mild, unobtrusive way. She had the same brown eyes, but so steadfast and truthful that even French felt satisfied that she was one to be trusted. Her expression was equally kindly, but she gave the impression of greater competence than her sister. He could imagine how her parents leaned on her. A good woman, he thought, using an adjective he did not often apply to the sex, and the phrase, in its fullest significance, seemed only just adequate.