Miss Arnott's Marriage
Copyright© 2024 by Richard Marsh
Chapter 32: The Housemaid’s Tale
Mr And Mrs Granger looked at each other. Then the husband dropped down into the chair which he had just vacated with a sound which might be described as a snort; it was perhaps because he was a man of such plethoric habit that the slightest occasion for surprise caused him to emit strange noises. His wife caught at the edge of the table with both her hands.
“Lawk-a-mussy!” she exclaimed. “To think of Jim Baker saying that!”
“It seems to me,” observed Mr Nunn, with an air of what he perhaps meant to be rhadamanthine severity, “that if there’s anything in what that chap says somebody ought to have had their suspicions before now. I don’t say who.”
This with a very meaning glance at Mr Granger.
“Suspicions!” cried the lady. “Why, Mr Nunn, there ain’t been nothing but suspicions! I shouldn’t think there was a soul for ten miles round that hasn’t been suspected by someone else of having done it. You wouldn’t have had my husband lock ‘em all up! Do you believe Jim Baker?”
“That’s not the question. It’s evidence I want, and it’s for evidence, Mr Granger, I’ve come to you.”
“Evidence of what?” gasped the policeman. “I don’t know if you think I keep evidence on tap as if it was beer. All the evidence I have you’ve got--and more.”
His wife persisted in her inquiry.
“What I ask you, Mr Nunn, is--Are you going to lock up that young lady because of what Jim Baker says?”
“And I repeat, Mrs Granger, that that’s not the question, though you must allow me to remark, ma’am, that I don’t see what is your locus standi in the matter.”
“Aren’t you drinking my tea?”
“I don’t see what my drinking your tea has got to do with it anyhow. At the same time, since it’ll all soon enough be public property, I don’t know that it’s of much consequence. Of course a man hasn’t been at the game all the years I have without becoming aware that nothing’s more common than for A, when he’s accused of a crime, to try to lay the blame of it on B; and that, therefore, if for that reason only, what that chap in Winchester Gaol says smells fishy. But at the same time the statement he has made is of such a specific nature, and should be so open to corroboration, or the reverse, that I’m bound to admit that if anything did turn up to give it colour I should feel it my duty to act on it at once.”
“Do you mean that you’d have her arrested?”
“I do--that is if, as I say, I obtain anything in the nature of corroborative evidence, and for that I look to Mr Granger.”
There was no necessity for him to do that, fortunately for the peace of mind and body of the active and intelligent officer referred to. Evidence of the kind of which he spoke was coming from an altogether different quarter. Indeed, it was already at the door.
Hardly had he done speaking than a modest tap was heard. Opening, Mrs Granger found a small urchin standing in the dusk without, who slipped an envelope into her hand, with which she returned into the room, peering at the address.
“What’s this? ‘To the Policeman.’ I suppose, William, that means you; it’s only some rubbish, I suppose.”
She passed the envelope to her husband, who peered at the address as she had done.
“Let’s have the lamp, Susan, you can’t see to read in this here light. Not that I suppose it’s anything worth reading, but mine ain’t cat’s eyes anyhow.”
The lamp was lit and placed upon the table. Mr Granger studied what was written on the sheet of paper which he took from the envelope.
“Robert Champion was the name of the man who was murdered in the wood. The mistress of Exham Park, who calls herself Miss Arnott, was his wife. He came out of Wandsworth Prison to see her. And he saw her.
“Ask her why she said nothing about it.
“Then the whole truth will come out.”
Mr Granger read this once, twice, thrice, while his wife and Mr Nunn were watching him. Then he scratched his head.
“This is rummy--uncommon. Here, you take and look at it, it’s beyond me altogether.”
He handed the sheet of paper to Mr Nunn, who mastered its contents at a glance. Then he addressed a question to Mrs Granger, shortly, sharply.
“Who gave you this?”
“What is it?”
“Never mind what it is, woman! Answer my question--who gave it you?”
“It’s no use your speaking to me like that, Mr Nunn, and so I’d have you know. I’m no servant of yours! Some child slipped it into my hand, but what with the bad light and the flurry I was in because of what you’d been saying, I didn’t notice what child no more than nothing at all.”
Mr Nunn seemed disturbed.
“It’ll be a serious thing for you, Mrs Granger, if you’re not able to recognise who gave you this. You say it was a child? There can’t be so many children in the place. I’ll find out which of them it was if I have to interview every one in the parish. It can’t have got so far away; perhaps it’s still waiting outside.”
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