"And suppose it isn't?"

"What makes you say that?" asked Mr Entwhistle sharply.

"I don't know. I've been uneasy... Not just about what Cora said that day - something else. Something that I felt at the time to be wrong."

"Wrong? In what way?"

"That's just it. I don't know."

"You mean it was something about one of the people in the room?"

"Yes - yes - something of that kind. But I don't know who or what... Oh that sounds absurd -"

"Not at all. It is interesting - very interesting. You are not a fool, Helen. If you noticed something, that something has significance."

"Yes, but I can't remember what it was. The more I think -"

"Don't think. That is the wrong way to bring anything back. Let it go. Sooner or later it will flash into your mind. And when it does - let me know - at once."

"I will."

Chapter 9

Miss Gilchrist pulled her black felt hat down firmly on her head and tucked in a wisp of grey hair. The inquest was set for twelve o'clock and it was not quite twenty-past eleven. Her grey coat and skirt looked quite nice, she thought, and she had bought herself a black blouse. She wished she could have been all in black, but that would have been far beyond her means. She looked round the small neat bedroom and at the walls hung with representations of Brixham harbour, Cockington Forge, Anstey's Cove, Kyance Cove, Polflexan harbour, Babbacombe Bay, etc., all signed in a dashing way, Cora Lansquenet. Her eyes rested with particular fondness on Polflexan harbour. On the chest of drawers a faded photograph carefully framed represented the Willow Teashop. Miss Gilchrist looked at it lovingly and sighed.

She was disturbed from her reverie by the sound of the door bell below.

"Dear me," murmured Miss Gilchrist," I wonder who -"

She went out of her room and down the rather rickety stairs. The bell sounded again and there was a sharp knock.

For some reason Miss Gilchrist felt nervous. For a moment or two her steps slowed up, then she went rather unwillingly to the door, adjuring herself not to be so silly.

A young woman dressed smartly in black and carrying a small suitcase was standing on the step. She noticed the alarmed look on Miss Gilchrist's face and said quickly:

"Miss Gilchrist? I am Mrs Lansquenet's niece - Susan Banks."

"Oh dear, yes, of course. I didn't know. Do come in, Mrs Banks. Mind the hall-stand - it sticks out a little. In here, yes. I didn't know you were coming down for the inquest. I'd have had something ready - some coffee or something."

Susan Banks said briskly:

"I don't want anything. I'm so sorry if I startled you."

"Well, you know you did, in a way. It's very silly of me. I'm not usually nervous. In fact I told the lawyer that I wasn't nervous, and that I wouldn't be nervous staying on here alone, and really I'm not nervous. Only - perhaps it's just the inquest and - and thinking of things, but I have been jumpy all this morning. Just about half an hour ago the bell rang and I could hardly bring myself to open the door - which was really very stupid and so unlikely that a murderer would come back - and why should he? - and actually it was only a nun, collecting for an orphanage - and I was so relieved I gave her two shillings although I'm not a Roman Catholic and indeed have no sympathy with the Roman Church and all these monks and nuns though I believe the Little Sisters of the Poor do really do good work. But do please sit down, Mrs - Mrs -"