'Your mother.' Her voice sounded small and sad in that strange room. 'I didn't want to,' she added quickly. 'But — I'd promised.' She moved forward. It was a timid movement. There,' she said. Take it.' She thrust the envelope into my hand. Then with sudden relief in her voice: 'I've done what I said I would. I'll go now.' She turned towards the door.
But I caught her dressing-gown. 'Don't go,' I said. 'What was my mother doing here? You knew her. What happened?'
'No.' Her voice trembled. 'Don't ask me anything. Let me go — please. You have the letter now. That's all I promised to do. Let me go, I tell you.' Her voice was frightened now. She struggled, but I had her by the wrist. 'Sit down,' I said. I was determined not to let her go. There were so many questions I needed answered. 'How did you know who I was?'
'It — it was the way you held your head when you asked a question. That and your eyes. You've got her eyes.'
'You knew her then?'
She nodded. 'Now let me go.' Her voice trembled again.
'No,' I said. 'What was my mother doing here?' She suddenly fought to free her wrist from my grasp.
'What was my mother doing here?' I repeated, and she cried out at the pressure of my hand on her wrist. For a moment she fought to free herself then suddenly she relaxed and sat limply down on the edge of the bed. I felt her trembling all over. She was all wrought up. The candle was spilling hot grease on to her fingers. She reached out and set it down on the table by the bed.
'Now,' I said, 'will you please tell me what my mother was doing here?'
She gave a sob. I looked up at her. She was staring at the little hatch cut in the door. She wasn't crying — she was fighting for breath. I waited. At last she said in a strangled voice, 'She was — she was Mr Manack's housekeeper.'