One day, when the sun was bright, she decided to go out into the grounds. I got her a coat, and accompanied by Andy McDonald she made a slow round of the property, the orchid houses, the hothouses, and so on. When she had finished she sat down on a bench and looked up at the old man. She was very fond of him.

“You’ve been here a long time, Andy,” she said. “If I ever have to give up this place I hope you can stay on.”

“Give it up, ma’am?”

“It’s pretty big for me alone, and nobody lives forever.”

“You’ll outlive me by years,” said Andy stanchly. “As for giving up the place, you’d never be happy elsewhere.”

“No,” she said, and was silent for some time. When she spoke again it was about Evans. “What about him?” she asked. “You knew him well. Did he have any enemies?”

“Well, yes and no,” said Andy cautiously. “He was not what you’d call a well-liked man. On the other hand, he kept to himself, as you might say. He was never one for talking.”

She got up then, looking almost even into the old Scotsman’s eyes. “You think he is dead, don’t you?”

“Where there’s a corpse there’s a body. There’s no body yet.”

“Still, there’s the river, Andy.”

“Aye, there’s always the river, ma’am,” said Andy and lapsed into silence.

We were besieged with visitors as she improved. Most of them I saw, but now and then she would make an exception. One day she said she would like to see Lydia, and Lydia came that afternoon. It was a pleasant little visit, with Maud pouring tea by the fireplace while I passed scones and cakes. Only once, while Lydia said something to me, I saw Maud’s eyes on her, thoughtful and almost sad.

When Lydia rose to go Maud took her hand and held it. “Let the past go, my dear,” she said. “It’s the future that counts. I hope you will be very happy.”

“I am very happy now,” said Lydia.

I have wondered since why she sent for Lydia that day. Was she still uncertain? Or had she already made that plan of hers? I remember Lydia’s stopping me in the hall outside and holding my arm. “She’s frightfully worried, isn’t she, poor dear? What’s it about? Tony?”

“She’s been very sick, Lydia.”

“Well, maybe that’s it,” she said. “But if you ask me—”

Then we were in the main hall, with Reynolds holding her coat, Thomas the door, and Stevens outside at her car.

“Heavens, what state you live in, Pat,” she said. “I don’t believe I could bear it.”

We saw a good bit of Margery Stoddard as Maud improved. I think she was lonely, what with Julian either at the office or out with the hounds. She had never gone about much socially. But she was worried about the general situation, although she said nothing to Maud.

She found me alone one day and told me she had sent the children to Julian’s people for a visit. “I miss them dreadfully,” she said, “but Julian thought it safer. After all, if there is a homicidal maniac around I don’t want them here.”