‘You be quiet and I’ll tell ’ee,’ said Mrs Meade, with sudden sternness. ‘They was struck silly, I can tell you. The German gentleman was the first to come to his senses. “Who?” he said. Mr Gideon turned on him then. “Sinisters?” he says, as if asking a question.’
Meggie and Abbershaw exchanged significant glances, while Mrs Meade hurried on with her narrative, speaking with great gusto, acting the parts of the different speakers, and investing the whole gruesome story with an air of self-righteous satisfaction that made it even more terrible.
‘The German gentleman wasn’t pleased at that,’ she continued, ‘but it was he who kept his head, as they say. “And the papers,” said he. “Were they on him?” “No,” says the doctor. “Then,” said the German gentleman, “get him upstairs. No one must leave the house till we get back the papers.” “Don’t let anyone know he’s dead, then,” said Mr Gideon. “Say it’s heart attack – anything you like.” “There’s blood about,” said Dr Whitby – “bound to be.” “Then clear it up,” says Mr Gideon. “I’ll help you. We must hurry before the lights go up.” ’
On the last word her voice sank to a whisper, but the stagey horror with which she was trying to invest the story did not detract from the real gruesomeness of the tale. Rather it added to it, making the scene down in the lamplit panelled room seem suddenly clear and very near to them.
Meggie shuddered and her voice was subdued and oddly breathless when she spoke.
‘What happened then?’
Mrs Meade drew herself up, and her little black eyes burned with the fire of righteousness.
‘Then I could hold my tongue no longer,’ she said, ‘and I spoke out. “Whoso killeth any person, the murderer shall be put to death by the mouth of witnesses,” I said, and stepped out from behind the screen.’
Abbershaw’s eyes widened as the scene rose up in his mind – the fanatical old woman, her harsh voice breaking in upon the three crooks in that first moment of their bewilderment.
‘They were terrified, I suppose,’ he said.