"I've been indulging in false sentiment. This was never a happy house. It isn't now. Everyone here is unhappy"

"No, no. Your daughter - "

"Judith's not happy."

I said it with the certainty of sudden knowledge. No, Judith wasn't happy.

"Boyd Carrington," I said doubtfully. "He was saying the other day that he was lonely - but for all that I think he's enjoying himself quite a good deal - what with his house and one thing and another."

Miss Cole said sharply:

"Oh yes, but then Sir William is different. He doesn't belong here like the rest of us do. He's from the outside world - the world of success and independence. He's made a success of his life and he knows it. He's not one of - of the maimed." It was a curious word to choose. I turned and stared at her.

'Will you tell me," I asked, "why you used that particular expression?" Because," she said with a sudden fierce energy, "it's the truth. The truth about me, at any rate. I am maimed."

"I can see," I said gently, "that you have been very unhappy." She said quietly:

"You don't know who I am, do you?"

"Er - I know your name - "

"Cole isn't my name - that is to say, it was my mother's name. I took it - afterwards."

"After?"

"My real name is Litchfield."

For a minute or two it didn't sink in - it was just a name vaguely familiar. Then I remembered.

"Matthew Litchfield."

She nodded.

"I see you know about it. That was what I meant just now. My father was an invalid and a tyrant. He forbade us any kind of normal life. We couldn't ask friends to the house. He kept us short of money. We were - in prison." She paused, her eyes, those beautiful eyes, wide and dark.

"And then my sister - my sister - "

She stopped.

"Please don't - don't go on. It is too painful for you. I know about it. There is no need to tell me."

"But you don't know. You can't. Maggie. It's inconceivable - unbelievable. I know that she went to the police, that she gave herself up, that she confessed. But I still sometimes can't believe it! I feel somehow that it wasn't true - that it didn't - that it couldn't have happened like she said it did."

"You mean" - I hesitated - "that the facts were at - at variance - " She cut me short.

"No, no. Not that. No, it's Maggie herself. It wasn't like her. It wasn't - it wasn't Maggie!"

Words trembled on my lips, but I did not say them. The time had not yet come when I could say to her:

"You are right. It wasn't Maggie ..."

NINE

It must have been about six o'clock when Colonel Luttrell came along the path. He had a rook rifle with him and was carrying a couple of dead wood pigeons. He started when I hailed him and seemed surprised to see us.