“I hope she’ll be all right. Of course, she’s seemed better these last days.”

“That’s true. But I’m worried about her. I wished you’d come earlier, Mrs. Grainger, then you might have gone with her.”

“You’ve no idea where she’s gone?”

“Well, as a matter of fact I have. I happened to hear her give orders to the cabby. That’s another thing. I said, ‘Why shouldn’t Baines take you?’ and she said she wouldn’t bother him. And there he is, hardly ever taking the carriage out.”

“That’s strange. Perhaps she wasn’t going far.”

“It’s to a place called the Coven.”

“The Coven? Isn’t that the little tea shop in Walter Street?”

“That’s it. Little place not been open long. I’m really worried about her. She seemed a bit shaky.”

“I see,” I said.

I came out of the house and walked to Princes Street.

She must be going to have tea, since the Coven was a tea shop. I thought, she wants to get out, that’s what it is. It must be boring for her to be always indoors. That would be a real trial for someone who had always liked gaiety. I pictured her taking a cab to the tea shop, having tea and cakes … and then going home. It was just a little outing.

She was really very frail. Suppose I went to the Coven, just to see if she was all right. I might have a cup of tea with her. I would suggest that we make these little excursions now and then when she was feeling well enough. That would get her out of the house.

I came to the Coven. It was small. In the window were homemade cakes and a sign which said “Lunches. Teas.”

I looked through the window between the cakes and I saw her at once. She was not alone. There was a woman with her.

I stared—first at her and then at her companion. There was something familiar about the latter. Then she turned and I saw her face clearly.

It was Ellen Farley.

I could not take my eyes from her, and just at that moment Zillah turned her head and gazed towards the window. We were looking straight at each other.

Her eyes dilated slightly and I saw the colour rush into her cheeks.

I turned and walked away.

I went straight home and up to my room.

Zillah going out to meet Ellen Farley—the key witness who could not be found!

What did it mean? What could it mean?

I COULD NOT REST. I wanted to tell Ninian. I thought of the pains he had taken to find Ellen Farley without success. It would have meant so much if she could have told the court that she had asked me to buy arsenic. It would have explained that entry in the book which was so damning against me.

I could hear Ninian’s voice: “If only we could find that woman!”

It so happened that he was working late that night on a specially demanding case. He had brought some books home with him on the previous night in the hope of finding a similar example which could be of use to him. It was a point of law which he wanted to verify.

I must tell him that I had seen her! Could I have been mistaken? It might have been someone who looked like her. I should have confronted them. Why had I been so foolish as to go away? I had been so shocked … so shaken … so bewildered.

But Zillah had seen me. She had looked horrified. It must have been Ellen Farley. But even now doubts kept coming into my mind. Could I trust myself?

I was in bed when Ninian came home. He looked very tired. He would be in court the next day. I thought, I will speak to him tomorrow evening … after I have seen Zillah.

The next morning I went to see Zillah. Mrs. Kirkwell met me in the hall.

“She’s very bad,” she said. “I’ve sent for the doctor. He should be here at any minute. It was going out yesterday. She came back in a state.”

“Was she alone?”

“Oh yes. The cabby knocked at the door and helped me in with her. He said he didn’t think she was well. I got her to bed right away and said I’d get the doctor. But she said no, she’d be better in the morning.”

“And she wasn’t?”

Mrs. Kirkwell shook her head. “So I sent for him without asking her. I thought I’d better.”

“I’m sure you’re right. I’ll go up and see her.”

She was lying propped up with pillows and seemed to be finding difficulty in getting her breath.

“Hello, Davina,” she said. “Can’t talk very much. It’s my breathing.”

I went to the bed and sat close.

“Zillah,” I said. “Tell me …”

She pointed to the table on which lay a large, rather bulky envelope.

“For you,” she said. “There’s another, too.”

I saw that beside the large envelope was a smaller one. They both had my name on them.

“You … can read them when I’ve gone.”

“Gone? Gone where?”

She smiled at me. “The big one, I mean. The little one you can read when you get home.”

“This is mysterious.”

She lifted her hand in a feeble gesture. “You’ll understand. You’ll see …”

“Something’s happened,” I said. “You shouldn’t have gone out yesterday.”

“Had to,” she said. “You saw …”

“Was it really? I couldn’t believe it.”

“You’ll understand. I had to. You’ll see.”

I heard someone coming up the stairs. There was a tap on the door and Mrs. Kirkwell came in with the doctor.

“Ah, Mrs. Glentyre … not so well today, I hear,” he said.

Mrs. Kirkwell looked at me meaningfully. I was to leave, she was implying.

I went downstairs, wondering what had happened. I had not been mistaken. She had been with Ellen Farley. What could it mean?

I was clutching both envelopes. The large one and the small one. She had said she wanted me to open the small one when I arrived home. I went into the drawing room to wait for the doctor’s visit to be over, and I opened the small envelope.

I read:

Dear Davina,

I have been thinking so much about you, particularly since you have come back. There is so much you ought to know and you shall. I have been on the point of confiding in you many times but I could not. I just hadn’t the courage. But you shall know and it won’t be long now.

I know I haven’t much time left. The doctor has more or less told me so. I begged him to tell me the truth. I didn’t want to be kept in the dark. There’s no cure for what I have. It may be a day … a week … or a month. But it is not far-off. Who should know that better than I?

I want you to read what I have written. It’s taken me a long time to get it all down. I did it some time ago as soon as I knew how ill I was. But I can’t tell you yet. You’ll have to wait. And when you do know, you’ll understand.

I didn’t think I was going to get so fond of you. I am so happy you married your Ninian. He’s a good man and he truly loves you. He’s proved his devotion and any woman would be grateful for that.

So be happy. There isn’t going to be anything to stop you and Ninian and little Stephen having a wonderful life. That’s what I want for you. But please … please don’t open the other until I am dead. I know you ought to, but I’m selfish … and I want you to wait.

One who loves you,

ZILLAH

I reread the letter. I had a burning desire to open the other, but I restrained myself.

I had not been able to ask her the question I had come to ask. Why had Ellen Farley been at the tea shop with Zillah? She had been upset when she received the letter which must have come from Ellen. She always went out when she received such notes. Why should she be seeing Ellen Farley?

The door opened and Mrs. Kirkwell came in with the doctor.

I stood up uncertainly. He was looking very grave.

“She’s very ill,” he said. “It’s a turn for the worse, I fear. She’s resting now. She’ll rest all day. Her breathing’s bad. I’ll send a nurse tomorrow. She’ll be all right today because she’ll be sleeping most of the time. I think you should be prepared.”

Mrs. Kirkwell said: “We’ve known, of course, doctor, that she was getting worse.”

He nodded. “I’ll look in tomorrow. Let her sleep. It’s the best thing for her.”

Mrs. Kirkwell took him to the door and when she came back she said: “It was silly of her to go out like that. If I’ve told her once I’ve told her twenty times.”

“Well, there’s no point in my staying, Mrs. Kirkwell. I’ll just take a look at her before I go.”

“Just peep in. Don’t wake her.”

I went up the stairs … very much aware of the envelope I carried. I looked in at her. She was still propped up by pillows. I supposed that made it easier for her to breathe. She was very still and her white hands lay inert on the bed coverlet.

She was in a deep sleep.

I was not able to talk to her again.

Three days later she died.

I was very sad indeed to realise I should never see her again … never be able to talk to her.

I had called at the house as I did every morning.

I had looked in on her on those occasions, but she was very tired and always half asleep.

I was not really surprised when I approached the house and saw that the blinds had been drawn at the windows.

It was a house of death.

I OPENED THE ENVELOPE and read:

My dear Davina,

I am going to tell you all that happened. I am going to, as they say, tell you the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. And I am going to tell it my way, because it is important to me that you should understand how it all came about, and I hope you won’t judge me too harshly.

I want you to imagine a girl who hadn’t had very much. I won’t go into details about my origins, but they were sordid. I was a sad bewildered child. I had my mother, it was true. I was an only child. My father seemed to be always drunk. I can hardly remember him anything else. Every penny he earned went into the local ginshop. It was a struggle. There was not always enough to eat. I was fourteen years old when my mother died. Then I ran away.