Miss Silver Comes To Stay by Patricia Wentworth Read Free Book Online

had done her social duty. She said, “How do you do?” to Miss Maud Silver, and was invited to tea that afternoon.
    “And it’s no use saying you can’t come, Rietta, because I know perfectly well that Carr and Miss Bell have gone up to town for the day. The baker saw them start. He mentioned it when he called, because there was a very black cloud overhead at the time and he noticed that Miss Bell hadn’t got an umbrella so he hoped she wouldn’t get wet. He said he told her she’d better take one, but she only laughed. How long are they staying with you?”
    “I don’t quite know. Carr has brought down some manuscripts to read.”
    “He looks as if he needed a good long holiday. Then you’ll come to tea this afternoon? I’ll ring Catherine up and ask her too. I want Maud Silver to meet you both.” She leaned closer and said in a throaty whisper, “She’s quite a famous detective.”
    Miss Silver was examining the stand of post cards. She looked so much less like a detective than anything Rietta could have imagined that she was startled into saying,
    “What does she detect?”
    “Crime,” said Mrs. Voycey right into her ear. She then let go of the arm she had been holding and stepped back. “I’ll expect you at half past four. I must really have a word with Mrs. Mayhew.”
    Mrs. Mayhew was buying onions, and a stone of potatoes.
    “I’m sure I never thought I’d come to having to get either from anywhere else except the garden, but it’s all Mr. Andrews can do to keep the place tidy, and that’s the truth, Mr. Grover—indeed he can’t, and there’s no getting from it. So if Sam can bring them up after school—” She turned, a little meek woman with a plaintive manner, and was immediately cornered by Mrs. Voycey.
    “Ah, Mrs. Mayhew—I suppose you’re very busy with Mr. Lessiter back. Quite unexpected, wasn’t it? Only last week I said to the Vicar, ‘There doesn’t seem to be any word of Melling House being opened up again,’ and I said it was a pity. Well, now he’s back I hope he isn’t going to run away again.”
    “I don’t know, I’m sure.”
    Mrs. Voycey gave her hearty laugh.
    “We must all be very nice to him, and then perhaps he’ll stay.” She came a step nearer and dropped her voice. “Good news of your son, I hope.”
    Mrs. Mayhew darted a frightened glance to the right and to the left. It was no good. She was in the angle between the counter and the wall, and get past Mrs. Voycey she couldn’t. Her own tone was almost inaudible as she murmured,
    “He’s doing all right.”
    Mrs. Voycey patted her kindly on the shoulder.
    “I was sure he would—you can tell him I said so. Things are different to what they used to be thirty or forty years ago. There wasn’t any second chance then, whether it was a boy or a girl, but it’s all quite different now. He’ll be coming down to see you, I expect.”
    Mrs. Mayhew had turned dreadfully pale. Mrs. Voycey meant well—everyone in Melling knew how kind she was— but Mrs. Mayhew couldn’t bear to talk about Cyril, not right here in the shop with people listening. It made her feel as if she was in a trap and couldn’t get out. And then the little lady who looked like a governess coughed and touched Mrs. Voycey’s arm—“Pray, Cecilia, tell me something about these views. I should like to send a card to my niece, Ethel Burkett”—and she was free. Her heart was beating so hard that it confused her, and she was half-way up the drive before she remembered that she had meant to buy peppermint flavouring.
    When the two ladies came out of the shop and were walking home across the Green, Mrs. Voycey said,
    “That was Mrs. Mayhew. She and her husband are cook and butler at Melling House. Their son has been a sad trouble to them.”
    Miss Silver coughed and said,
    “She did not like your talking about him, Cecilia.”
    Mrs. Voycey said in her hearty way,
    “It’s no good her being so sensitive. Everyone knows, and everyone