He, summing her up sharply in his turn, was surprised to see but little sign of the violent grief he had expected. Her plain, fresh-coloured features were grave and a little sad, but she was obviously not prostrated by the loss of her sister. She greeted him frankly and with a certain quiet dignity.
“My maid said that you wished to see me?” she said simply.
“I must apologize for intruding on you at such a time, but I have come from Lady Cynthia Bell. She tells me that you very kindly offered to see her and she asked me to express her gratitude and appreciation. I am afraid that I am responsible for her failure to take advantage of your suggestion. . . . It is difficult to explain my interference without encroaching on a subject which, I am afraid, must be very painful to you.”
He broke off, his face alight with a very real sympathy.
“You mean my sister’s death,” she said steadily. “I know your name well, Sir Edward, and if you have come on Cynthia’s behalf, there is one thing I should like to make quite clear before we go any further. You have guessed, probably, why I wanted to see her and I am very glad to have the opportunity of saying as much to you as I had intended to say to her. It is simply this: I have known John Leslie for some time and I’m not a bad judge of character. I am absolutely convinced that he had nothing to do with my poor sister’s death and, what’s more, am practically certain that he had never met her or had ever had anything to do with her.”
Having said her say, she stood waiting, a dignified, sturdy figure of an English spinster, a look of quiet resolution on her well-cut, weather-beaten features. Kean summed her up as a good friend and a bad enemy.
“This will mean a lot to Cynthia,” he said warmly. “And I should like to thank you on her behalf. As for myself, I entirely agree with you; but, as you know, we may have to convince people who do not know Leslie, and, however strongly we may feel ourselves on the subject, we have no real proof to offer. Frankly, I came here in the hope that you might have some evidence that would help us. You say you are practically certain that Leslie never knew your sister. Is this only conjecture?”
“Mr. Leslie told me himself that he had never met her when I spoke to him about her visit to me; but that, I suppose,” she went on with a rather grim smile, “is hardly sufficient for you lawyers! But, as a matter of fact, by sheer luck, my sister happened to pick up a snapshot of Cynthia and Mr. Leslie the morning she arrived. She recognized Cynthia from a photograph she had seen in some paper and asked who the attractive boy was with her. When I told her his name she said she had heard him spoken of at Staveley, but had never met him. Now, if what these idiots seem to suspect were true, John Leslie might have his reasons for keeping their acquaintance dark, but my sister could have had no objection to saying she knew him. Besides, from her manner, I am sure she did not recognize the photograph.”
“Could you let me have this snapshot, Miss Allen?”
“It is on the mantelpiece behind you. Keep it, if you think it will be of any use.”