Chapter 18 Chapter 18 The Girl in the Photo

When Bobby returned to the inn, he was informed that someone was waiting for him. "It's a lady. You'll see her in Mr. Askew's little sitting room." Bobby was slightly puzzled, he couldn't understand how it was possible that Frankie could have arrived at Angler's Haven before he did, unless she flew in, and all he could think about was Frankie's visitor and no one else. He opened the door of the little room Mr. Askew used as his private sitting room.Sitting upright in the chair was a slender woman in black—the girl in the picture. Bobby was so taken aback that he couldn't speak for a moment.He noticed that the girl looked very nervous, and her little hands were trembling, pinching and loosening the armrests of the chair for a while.She seemed too nervous to speak, but there was a terrifying cry for help in those large eyes.

"Why you?" Bobby finally asked first.He closed the door and walked forward to the table. The girl remained silent, looking directly at Bobby with her large, menacing eyes.At last she spoke--a hoarse whisper. "You said, you said, you'd help me. Maybe I shouldn't have come..." Bobby interrupted her, searching for words of reassurance. "Shouldn't come? Nonsense. You're absolutely right to be here, of course you should be. I'll do everything I can to help you. Don't be afraid, you're perfectly safe now." There was some blood on the girl's face.She said suddenly, "Who are you? You...you...are not a driver. I mean you may be a driver, but not really."

Whatever was concealed in her incoherent words, Bobby understood her meaning. "People do all kinds of jobs these days," he said. "I used to be in the Navy. Actually, I'm not a driver, but it doesn't matter now. Anyway, I promise you, you can trust me to take the Tell me everything." She blushed even more. "You must think me crazy," she murmured, "you must think me totally crazy." "no no." "That's right, I came here like this. But I'm too scared, too scared..." The voice died away, and the eyes were wide open as if seeing a terrifying vision.

Bobby held her hand tightly. "Actually," he said, "it's all right. It's going to be all right. You're safe now... with... the same friend. You'll be all right." He felt the back pressure of her fingers. "One night you went out into the moonlight," she said in a low voice, "it was like a dream, a dream that could be told. I don't know who you are, where you come from." Come, meeting you gave me hope, so I decided to come to you...to tell you." "That's right," Bobby encouraged her, "tell me, tell me everything."

Moira suddenly withdrew her hand. "If I said that, you'd think I was crazy, living with those people in that place, and my head was out of my head." "No, I don't think so, really not." "You will. This thing feels like madness." "I want to know if that's the case. Go ahead and tell me, please." She stepped back a little from him and sat upright, her eyes gazing straight ahead. "The thing is," she said, "I'm afraid I'm going to be murdered." Her voice was dry and hoarse, and she spoke with obvious self-control, but her hands were shaking all the time.

"Murdered?" "Yeah, does that sound like crazy? Like... what do they call it? Persecutory madness." "No," said Bobby, "you're not crazy at all, you're just terrified. Tell me, who's trying to kill you? Why?" She was silent for a minute or two, tightening and loosening her hands.Then she lowered her voice and said, "My husband." "Your husband?" Bobby's mind was confused, and he blurted out, "Are you..." This time it was her turn to be surprised: "You don't know?" "I don't know at all."

She said: "I am Moira Nicholson. My husband is Dr. Nicholson." "So you're not a patient there?" "Patient? Oh, no!" Her face suddenly darkened. "No, no, I don't mean that at all." He tried to reassure her. "Honestly, I don't think so at all. I'm just surprised that you're married. . . Case." "I know, it sounds like crazy stuff, but no, it's not crazy stuff: I read it in his eyes as he stared at me. A lot of strange things happened...accidents." "Accident?" Bobby asked hastily. "Yeah, oh: I know it's kind of hysterical to say that, like I'm making it all up..."

"Not at all," said Bobby. "You're quite right. Go on, and talk about the accidents." "That just happened by accident. He backed up and didn't see me there, and I jumped aside just in time; some meds were in the wrong bottle, oh, stupid things like that, and those things people think are normal, but they're not… …They meant it. I knew that. So it wears me out, to watch out for them, to protect myself, to try to save my own life." She swallowed convulsively. "Why does your husband want to kill you?" Bobby asked. He hardly expected a definitive answer, but the answer came straight to the point:

"Because he wants to marry Sylvia." "What? But she's married." "I know. But he's making arrangements for that purpose." "How do you say that?" "I don't know exactly, but I know he is planning to bring Mr. Henry Bassington-French to Grange House as a patient." "anything else?" "I don't know, but I think something's going to happen." She shuddered. "He's got something to hold Mr. Henry Bassington-French. I don't know what." "Henry takes morphine," said Bobby. "Is that so? I think Jasper gave it to him."

"The morphine is in the mail." "Jasper probably didn't do it straight away, he's cunning. Mr Henry Bassington-French may not know that the morphine came from Jasper, but I'm sure it did. So Jasper can get him to Grand Ji Mansion came, pretending to treat him. Once he gets there..." She fell silent, trembling all over. "All sorts of things that happen at the farm," she went on, "are queer. People come hoping for better, and instead of getting better, they get worse." As she spoke, Bobby felt vaguely entering a strange, sinister environment.Something dreadful seemed to him to have engulfed Moira Nicholson's life for a long time.

He interrupted her suddenly: "You say your husband wants to marry Mrs. Bassington-French?" Moira nodded. "He's obsessed with her." "And what about her?" "I don't know," said Moira slowly, "I can't judge. Outwardly she seems to love her husband and young son, and she lives a life of ease and peace, like a simple woman. But sometimes I don't think she's as simple as she seems. Sometimes I don't even know if she's a completely different woman than we think she is, or if she's acting and acting well...but, I guess, these claims are Absurd, it's all my imagination. When you live in a place like Grange House, you get out of your mind and you start to think wildly." "What about Roger, the younger brother?" "I don't know much about him. I think he's a nice guy, but he's the gullible kind. I know he's completely under Jasper's control. Jasper's working on him to talk Henry Bassin out. Suddenly French comes to Grange Hall. I believe he still thinks it's his idea." She leaned forward suddenly, grabbed Bobby's sleeve and begged: "Don't let Henry come to Grange House Come, if he comes, something terrible will happen. I know it will happen." Bobby was silent for a minute or two, weighing the astonishing situation in his mind. "How long have you been married to Nicholson?" he asked at last. "Just over a year." Moira's voice trembled. "Haven't you thought about leaving him?" "How can I? I have no place to go, no money. Even if I am taken in, how far can I tell the truth? Tell a fantastic story about a husband who wants to kill me? Who will believe me?" "Oh, I believe you," said Bobby. He was silent for a moment, as if deciding on a course of action.Then he blurted out: "Well, I'm going to ask you a straight question. Do you know a man named Alan Carstairs?" He saw a flush come to her cheeks. "Why are you asking me this?" "Because it's important and I should know. I think you must know him and probably gave him your picture at some point." She was silent for a moment, her eyes drooping.Then she looked up and stared into Bobby's face. "It's true," she said. "You knew him before you got married?" "right." "Did he come here to see you after your marriage?" She hesitated before saying, "Yes, I have been here once." "Was that about a month ago?" "Yes, I think about a month." "Does he know you live here?" "I don't know how he got it. I didn't tell him. I haven't even written him a letter since we got married." "But he found it and came here to see you. Does your husband know about it?" "have no idea." "You don't think he knows, but he might know anyway?" "I thought maybe he knew, but he never said anything." "Have you talked to Carstairs about your husband? Have you spoken to him about your fears concerning your safety?" She shook her head: "I wasn't suspicious at that time." "But you were very unhappy then, weren't you?" "yes." "Did you tell him that?" ''No.I don't want to show in every way that my marriage has failed. " "But he might still figure it out," said Bobby mildly. "I think so," she admitted quietly. "You think—I don't know how to put it—but you think he knows all about your husband, and he's suspicious, like, maybe the nursing home isn't like that?" Her brow furrowed as she tried to think. Bobby pondered again for a few minutes before he said, "Do you think your husband is a suspicious man?" To his surprise, she actually replied, "Yes, very heavy." "For example, suspect you?" "You mean even then he doesn't care? But, yes, he's jealous all the same. I'm his property, you see. He's a queer, queer, queer man." She trembled again. Then she suddenly asked: "You have no contact with the police, have you?" "Me? Oh, no." "I wonder, I mean..." Bobby looked down at the driver's uniform on his body. "That's a long story," he said. "You're Miss Frances de Winter's chauffeur, aren't you? The landlady here told me so. I dined with Miss Frances one evening." "I know," said Bobby after a pause, "we've got to find her. I'm having a hard time doing it. Do you think you could make a phone call and ask to speak to her, and then ask her to meet you somewhere outside?" "I think so..." Moira said slowly. "I know it's going to be weird for you to do that, but once I explain it, it won't. We've got to find Frankie as best we can. It's got to be done." Moira stood up: "Very good." She hesitated as her hand reached the handle on the door. "Alan," she said, "Alan Carstairs, you say you've seen him?" "Yes," said Bobby slowly. "But not recently." Startled, he thought: "Of course she doesn't know he's dead..." Then he said: "Call Miss Frances. Then I'll tell you all about it."