“Has Miss Cheale ever told you how she thinks Mrs. Garlett was poisoned?” asked Jean.
“I simply wouldn’t dare ask ’er. I ’ave tried once or twice to sort of lead on to it delicately—but she can’t bear the littlest question about it. Oh, she’s a fly one! It wasn’t till I seed her name in the paper that she let on she’d anything to do with it. Since then—well, it stands to reason she’s ’ad to say just a bit about it to me now and again. What’s upset her so as been those dratted lawyers—first one side, then the other, coming and worrying ’er somethin’ hawful! That’s why she’s ’ad to speak to me about it so that I should prevent ’em coming up to her. And I ’ave prevented ’em!” exclaimed Mrs. Lightfoot.
Unconsciously she put her arms akimbo and assumed a fighting attitude.
“Many a fine bold lie ’ave I told in ’er good cause! Be spot truthful when you’re young, but as time goes on, allow yourself a little law. That’s a motter for you, Bet Chart, and a good one, too. After all, Miss Cheale can’t say what she don’t know—can she?”
“No one knows anything,” said Jean at last. “It’s a terrible, terrible mystery,” and she pushed her plate away.
“Now you just go on eating, Bet. It’s real butter; no cheap margarine for me! Never would ’ave it in my ’ouse for all I’ve come down in the world, as the saying is. During the war plain honest dripping as I got off a chef I know: since then the best butter. You’ll find I live up to what I said, ‘a comfortable ’ome for a suitable person.’”
So Jean forced herself to eat a bit more of Mrs. Lightfoot’s excellent bread and butter.
“In a way ’tis a mystery,” went on her employer, “though in another way ’tis no mystery at hall! Young man marries old woman for ’er money. Gets fair sick of ’er. Meets a pretty young girl. Takes a fancy to ’er and does away with the old ’un. So far all clear. As I says to Miss Cheale early this very morning: ‘Don’t you take on so, miss. It’s ’appened plenty of times before and it’ll ’appen plenty times again—before the judgment day! Anyway,’ I says, ‘it’ll be all the same a ’undred years hence.’ But between you and me, Bet Chart, I’ve another idea.”
“There are some people who think that perhaps Mrs. Garlett poisoned herself,” said Jean.
She had given up the pretence of eating and was now looking fixedly into Mrs. Lightfoot’s red face.