‘But you couldn’t get out?’ interrupted Meggie, whose brain failed before this somewhat peculiar reasoning.
‘O’ course I couldn’t get out,’ said Mrs Meade vigorously. ‘No more’n could he come in. As long as my tongue’s in my head someone’ll swing for murder, and I’m quite willing to wait for my son on Wednesday. They won’t get in to me to kill me, I reckon,’ she continued, with a flicker of pleasure in her eyes, ‘and so when my son comes along there’ll be someone to help cast out the wicked. I ain’t a-holding my tongue, not for nobody.’
‘And that’s all you know, then?’ said Meggie.
‘All?’ Mrs Meade’s tone was eloquent. ‘Some people’ll find it’s quite enough. Those three didn’t actually do the murder, but there’s someone in the house who did, and –’ She broke off sharply and glanced from one to the other. ‘Why’re you two lookin’ at one ’nother so?’ she demanded.
But she got no reply to her question. Meggie and Abbershaw were regarding each other fixedly, the same phrase in the old woman’s remark had struck both of them, and to each it bore the same terrible significance. ‘Those three didn’t actually do the murder, but there’s someone in the house who did.’ Dawlish, Gideon, Whitby were cleared of the actual crime in one word; the servants were all confined in their own quarters – Albert Campion insisted that he locked the door upon them. Who then could be responsible? Albert Campion himself – or one of their own party? Neither spoke – the question was too terrifying to put into words.
CHAPTER XVII
In the Evening
The disturbing discovery which Meggie and Abbershaw had made in Mrs Meade’s story silenced them for some time. Until the old woman’s extraordinary announcement ten minutes before, the division between the sheep and the goats had been very sharply defined. But now the horrible charge of murder was brought into their own camp. On the face of it, either Albert Campion or one of the young people in the house-party must be the guilty person.
Of course there was always the saving hope that in his haste Campion had locked one of the servants out instead of confining them all to their quarters as he had intended. But even so, neither Abbershaw nor the girl could blind themselves to the fact that in the light of present circumstances the odds were against the murderer lying in that quarter.
The entire staff of the house was employed by von Faber or his agents, that is to say that they were actually of the gang themselves. Coombe was an asset to them – it was not in their interests to kill him.
And yet, on the other hand, if the gang had not committed the murder they certainly covered up all traces of it. Mrs Meade’s story had deepened the mystery instead of destroying it.