"The little monkey!" Sir Richard laughed. "I'll wager the woman got a fright!"

"She certainly did, and matters were not improved by Cherry coming to meet her with her face quite wet with tears--you know Cherry is a born actress--and begging her, between sobs, to come upstairs softly as someone was dead!"

"Someone? She did not specify who it was?"

"No--or if she did Tochatti did not understand; but when she got into the nursery she found an elaborately conceived representation of a Catholic death-bed--flowers, bits of candle, and so on; and Cherry's very biggest doll--the one you gave her, by the way, Dr.

Anstice--enacting the part of the corpse!"

Even Anstice's mood was not proof against the humour of the small child's pantomime; and both he and Sir Richard laughed heartily.

"And Tochatti took it amiss?" Sir Richard put the question amid his laughter.

"Yes. It seems she had really had a bad fright; and on finding Cherry in tears she never doubted that some tragedy had occurred!"

"So you had to punish the poor mite for her realism!"

"Yes. Tochatti waited for me to return--I was out motoring--and then hauled the culprit before me; and although I really didn't see much harm in poor little Cherry's joke I was obliged, in order to pacify Tochatti, to sentence her to go to bed early--a special punishment on Sunday, when, as a rule, she sits up quite late!"

"I almost wonder," said Anstice slowly, "that Tochatti, devoted as she is to Cherry, could bring herself to give the child away. One would have expected her to hush up any small misdeeds, not dwell upon them to the powers that be."

Chloe looked at him with a hint of cynicism in her eyes.

"Even Tochatti is human," she said, "and when one has had a fright one's natural impulse, on being rea.s.sured, is to scold somebody. Besides, Tochatti, in her way, is implacable. She never forgives what she really considers an injury."

These words, fitting in so curiously with their conversation a little earlier, caused the men to glance surrept.i.tiously at one another; but Chloe, whose eyes were as sharp as her wits, intercepted the look.

"Sir Richard, why do you and Dr. Anstice look at one another?" She put the question directly, with her usual frankness; and Sir Richard met candour with candour.

"I will tell you in a moment, Chloe. First of all, I will admit that our visit here to-night was made with a purpose. We came here to ask you one or two questions which I feel sure you will answer as fully as possible."

"Certainly I will." Her manner had lost its animation and once more she wore the marble mask which as a rule hid the real woman from the world's gaze. "But won't you sit down? And if a cigarette will help you in your cross-examination----"

She sat down herself as she spoke, and Sir Richard followed her example; but Anstice remained standing on one side of the fireplace; and after a glance at his face Chloe did not repeat her invitation.

Rather to Sir Richard's surprise Chloe did not wait for him to begin questioning her; but put a question to him on her own account.

"Sir Richard, has your visit anything to do with certain letters received lately by several people in Littlefield?"

Both the men, genuinely taken aback, stared at her in silence; and with a faint smile she proceeded quietly.

"Well, _I_ have heard of those letters, anyway. In fact"--she paused dramatically before making her _coup_--"I've received one myself!"

"You have?" Anstice's voice was full of dismay.

"Yes. And I gather, from a short conversation I had with Mr. Carey last evening, that there have been several more of the things flying about this week."

"Well"--Sir Richard looked rather helplessly at Anstice--"in that case there is no need to make a mystery of it. Yes, Chloe, we did call here to-night to talk over those abominable letters, and to see if you can possibly help us to follow up a rather extraordinary clue."

"A clue!" Chloe's eyes suddenly blazed.

"Yes. That is to say--possible clue." Sir Richard hedged a little. "But Anstice can tell you the story better than I can."

"Will you, please, tell me, Dr. Anstice?" She turned to him, grave again now; and he complied at once, giving her a full account of his visit to Clive, and relating at length the expert's opinion on the letters.

She heard him out in silence; her almond-shaped eyes on his face; and Anstice omitted nothing of the happenings of that day in town, save his unexpected meeting with her husband in Piccadilly.

When he had finished Chloe sat quite still for a moment, saying nothing; and neither of the men dreamed of hurrying her.

At last:

"But, Dr. Anstice--_Tochatti_! Why, she has been with me for years--ever since I was a child like Cherry!"

Her voice was so full of incredulity that for a moment both her hearers wondered suddenly how they could have accepted the possibility of Tochatti's guilt so readily. But Anstice's common sense rea.s.serted itself immediately; and he knew that the mere fact of Mrs. Carstairs'

unbelief did not really materially alter the main issue. It was natural she should be surprised, unwilling to believe evil of the woman who, whatever her faults, had served her faithfully; but this was no time for sentimentality; and he replied to Chloe's last speech rather uncompromisingly.

"Even the fact that she has been with you for years does not preclude the possibility of her doing this thing," he said. "Of course I can understand you would hesitate to believe her capable of such wickedness, but----"

"But why should Tochatti wish to work me harm?" Her blue eyes were full of a kind of hurt wonder. "And these last letters directed against you, Dr. Anstice--why on earth should she have any spite against you?"

"Dr. Anstice tells me she much resented the presence of the hospital nurse in the house," chimed in Sir Richard. "Of course she has always been absurdly jealous of any claim to Cherry's affection--even Iris noticed that and used to say she hardly dared to pet the child before Tochatti."

"Yes." Chloe a.s.sented reluctantly. "That is quite true. She has always been jealous; and I confess I once or twice saw her look at Dr. Anstice with a--well, rather malignant expression. But I thought it was only a pa.s.sing jealousy; and judged it best to take no notice."

"Of course all this is very largely conjectural," said Anstice slowly.

"Such evidence as we have is purely circ.u.mstantial; and wouldn't hang a cat. But I admit that Mr. Clive's suggestion carries weight with me; and it is certainly odd that he should have mentioned an Italian as the possible author of the letters when there is a person of that nationality--more or less--in the house."

"Yes. I can see that for myself." Chloe's voice was low. "But to be quite candid, I don't see how it would be possible to bring the letters home to Tochatti. To begin with, she can't write."

"Or pretends she can't. You must remember, Mrs. Carstairs, we have only the woman's own word for that."

"I certainly never remember seeing her with a pen in her hand," said Chloe, "though of course that's no real proof. But if this horrible idea is correct how are you going to prove it? You don't intend to tackle Tochatti herself, I suppose?"

"Not for the world," said Anstice hastily. "That would be a fatal mistake. A woman who is clever enough to carry on an intrigue of this kind without incurring suspicion is sufficiently clever to answer any direct questioning satisfactorily. No. If Tochatti is the culprit--mind you I only say if--she must be caught with guile, made to commit herself somehow, or be taken red-handed in the act----" He broke off suddenly; and the other two looked at him in surprise.

"Well, Anstice, what's struck you now?" Sir Richard's tone was eager.

"Only this. Is your writing-table always open to access, Mrs. Carstairs?

I mean, you don't lock up your ink and pens, and so on?"

"No," she said, catching the drift of his questions at once. "Anyone in the house could sit down here to write and be sure of finding everything at hand."

"Just so--and unless the person who wrote was considerate enough to use the blotting-paper you would not know anyone had touched your things."

"No--unless they were left strewn untidily about."

"Which they would not be. Now, Mrs. Carstairs, to speak quite plainly, what is there to prevent Tochatti, or any other member of your household, creeping downstairs at the dead of night and making use of those pens and sheets of paper which you so obligingly leave about for anyone to play with?"

"Nothing," she said with a smile. "But unless you propose that I should sit up behind the curtains all night to see if some mysterious person does creep down----"