sir?”
“Oh, Trotty, it’s better not,” said Fran quickly. “They’ve taken her away to—to the hospital, and they’ll keep her there till we’ve had time to arrange for her funeral. It’s a good thing you’ve got Pippi here, isn’t it? She’ll see to all that, and of course if there’s anything in the world that any of us can do for you, you’ve only to let us know. You will, won’t you?”
“Yes, Trotty; if you want any help, you’ve only to send for me. I’m sure you know that.”
“Everybody in Pigeonsford knows that, Mr. Pendock,” she said sincerely. “It was good of you to come down and see me, sir; and the young ladies.”
They talked for a little while, Pendock said at last, diffidently: “Trotty—I wanted to ask you something; about this hat? Has the Inspector asked you about a hat?”
“He’s been on and on about it,” said Trotty, with a puzzled air. “Miss Grace never told me anything about any hat, Mr. Pendock. What does it matter, when my poor lady’s lying killed and murdered, about some miserable hat? None of Miss Grace’s hats is missing, that I do know.”
“It was my hat,” said Fran, as though she were a little ashamed to admit it.
“Didn’t Miss Morland mention it to you when she came in last night, Trotty? She didn’t like it at all, she thought it was a silly little hat, and I expect she told you about it and said what she thought of it…?”
“She never mentioned it, sir. And I can tell you why I’m so certain; she went straight to her room when she came down from the ’Ouse. She called out that she’d had her tea, and up she went, and didn’t come down till Miss Pippi arrived, just before eight o’clock. I thought she’d been crying; but with the excitement of Miss Pippi coming, I didn’t worry any more about it, and she certainly didn’t say anything about any hat, and she didn’t say nothing to Miss Pippi either. I was with them all the time, getting them some supper and then standing by while Miss Pippi was telling about her doings in the revue and all. I like to ’ear about them things, Mr. Pendock, it puts me in mind of the old days; and Miss Pippi’s very kind, she was telling all the jokes and adventures, and I know it was mostly to please me. Miss Grace doesn’t really approve of those sort of things; she shuts her mind to the broader things of life, messing about with paints and embroidery and forgetting that paint can be used on the outsides of houses, and that there’s such a thing as coarse, warm, necessary clothes without any frills or fancies; though God forgive me for seeming to say a word against her, for she was a good kind mistress to me, and now she’s dead, poor thing.”
“And never having said a word about the hat?”
“Not a word, Miss Venetia. Some time after ten Miss Pippi said she was stuffy and she’d like to go out for some air. Miss Grace she keeps the drawing-room rather warm, you know, and Miss Pippi she’s used to theatrical life, with all its draughts and chills and seldom enough a nice cosy sit by the fire; so Miss Grace went up to bed and I cleared the meal away. It’s as true as I stand here, sir,” said Trotty earnestly, sitting on a chair, “that Miss Grace never mentioned that hat. Never men tioned the hat.”
“But later on, when Pippi came in again?”
“Miss Pippi came in just before eleven, Miss Fran, and went up to her room. I followed her upstairs and saw her into bed. Then I took Miss Grace’s drink to her room; she was standing there without a light, looking out of the window, and she was queer, Mr. Pendock. She said she’d got somebody in the ’ollow of her hand; but she never said nothing at all about the hat.”
“And that was the last time you saw her?”
“It was, sir. I went back to Miss Pippi to take her empty cup, and was talking to her and listening to her tales until she’d finished her drink, and for a long time after that; it must have been well after half-past
“Oh, Trotty, it’s better not,” said Fran quickly. “They’ve taken her away to—to the hospital, and they’ll keep her there till we’ve had time to arrange for her funeral. It’s a good thing you’ve got Pippi here, isn’t it? She’ll see to all that, and of course if there’s anything in the world that any of us can do for you, you’ve only to let us know. You will, won’t you?”
“Yes, Trotty; if you want any help, you’ve only to send for me. I’m sure you know that.”
“Everybody in Pigeonsford knows that, Mr. Pendock,” she said sincerely. “It was good of you to come down and see me, sir; and the young ladies.”
They talked for a little while, Pendock said at last, diffidently: “Trotty—I wanted to ask you something; about this hat? Has the Inspector asked you about a hat?”
“He’s been on and on about it,” said Trotty, with a puzzled air. “Miss Grace never told me anything about any hat, Mr. Pendock. What does it matter, when my poor lady’s lying killed and murdered, about some miserable hat? None of Miss Grace’s hats is missing, that I do know.”
“It was my hat,” said Fran, as though she were a little ashamed to admit it.
“Didn’t Miss Morland mention it to you when she came in last night, Trotty? She didn’t like it at all, she thought it was a silly little hat, and I expect she told you about it and said what she thought of it…?”
“She never mentioned it, sir. And I can tell you why I’m so certain; she went straight to her room when she came down from the ’Ouse. She called out that she’d had her tea, and up she went, and didn’t come down till Miss Pippi arrived, just before eight o’clock. I thought she’d been crying; but with the excitement of Miss Pippi coming, I didn’t worry any more about it, and she certainly didn’t say anything about any hat, and she didn’t say nothing to Miss Pippi either. I was with them all the time, getting them some supper and then standing by while Miss Pippi was telling about her doings in the revue and all. I like to ’ear about them things, Mr. Pendock, it puts me in mind of the old days; and Miss Pippi’s very kind, she was telling all the jokes and adventures, and I know it was mostly to please me. Miss Grace doesn’t really approve of those sort of things; she shuts her mind to the broader things of life, messing about with paints and embroidery and forgetting that paint can be used on the outsides of houses, and that there’s such a thing as coarse, warm, necessary clothes without any frills or fancies; though God forgive me for seeming to say a word against her, for she was a good kind mistress to me, and now she’s dead, poor thing.”
“And never having said a word about the hat?”
“Not a word, Miss Venetia. Some time after ten Miss Pippi said she was stuffy and she’d like to go out for some air. Miss Grace she keeps the drawing-room rather warm, you know, and Miss Pippi she’s used to theatrical life, with all its draughts and chills and seldom enough a nice cosy sit by the fire; so Miss Grace went up to bed and I cleared the meal away. It’s as true as I stand here, sir,” said Trotty earnestly, sitting on a chair, “that Miss Grace never mentioned that hat. Never men tioned the hat.”
“But later on, when Pippi came in again?”
“Miss Pippi came in just before eleven, Miss Fran, and went up to her room. I followed her upstairs and saw her into bed. Then I took Miss Grace’s drink to her room; she was standing there without a light, looking out of the window, and she was queer, Mr. Pendock. She said she’d got somebody in the ’ollow of her hand; but she never said nothing at all about the hat.”
“And that was the last time you saw her?”
“It was, sir. I went back to Miss Pippi to take her empty cup, and was talking to her and listening to her tales until she’d finished her drink, and for a long time after that; it must have been well after half-past
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