“No good, Conway. The only other women available are Mrs. Dangerfield and Mrs. Scorton. They’re both rather under middle height. Helga’s a well-built girl, taller than the average. There could be no mistake about it.”
Westenhanger cogitated for a time.
“I’ve got it!” he said, at last. “It’s self-evident. Eileen was wide awake, obviously. But suppose Helga walks in her sleep? She wouldn’t know she’d been there at all, if she got back to bed eventually without waking up. That would account for the affair, wouldn’t it? It’s the only simple solution. It might even explain other things as well.”
He ruminated for a few more seconds before continuing.
“I’ll ask Eileen about it to-morrow. She was excited at that time, or she’d probably have spotted it as somnambulism at once. Perhaps she’ll remember something if she thinks over it. This may turn out to be the key to the whole damned thing.”
Chapter X
Mrs. Brent’s intervention did nothing to relax the tension in the social atmosphere of Friocksheim; on the contrary, it increased the general discomfort of the situation. Up to the moment of her reappearance, some attempt had been made, by common consent, to smooth over the awkwardness of things; but after her revelations it was inevitable that the guests should separate into inimical camps. On the surface a casual observer might have detected nothing amiss, since any display of open animosity would have made inevitable the scandal which all of them wished to avoid. Freddie Stickney and Morchard were treated with a distant and rigid courtesy which in itself emphasised the existence of new conditions. Beyond that, they were ignored by almost all the others. Mrs. Caistor Scorton alone seemed to keep them on the old footing, and she thus served as a link between the two parties.
How much Rollo Dangerfield knew—or suspected—Westenhanger was unable to conjecture. Mrs. Brent, Helga, or Eric might have opened the old man’s eyes. Whether they had done so or not, his old-fashioned courtesy seemed to make no distinctions among his guests; and Westenhanger was left in doubt as to whether Rollo was still in complete ignorance or else, knowing the facts, he put his duties as a host before his private feelings as regarded Morchard and Freddie.
On the morning after the Kestrel’s arrival, Westenhanger attached himself to Eileen and persuaded her to go with him to a quiet part of the gardens, where they were unlikely to be interrupted. He was anxious to secure what information he could about the appearance of Helga Dangerfield on the night of the storm, and he lost very little time in coming to the point.
“I was rather puzzled by that incident you mentioned last night,” he said, as they picked out a secluded seat. “Your meeting Helga in the corridor, I mean. Anyone could see that you were both telling the truth, and yet it sounds a bit impossible, doesn’t it?”