Time for Silence

I could see that Edward was mouthing the word appreciate. A new one for him. He would use it soon afterward in the way he always did. If he decided he liked it, it would figure in his conversations for the next days to come.

The newspaper was lying on the table. Annabelinda glanced at it. “They are still going on about that explosion,” she said.

“What a mercy there was no one there,” commented Andrée.

“I wonder who did it,” I said. “It seemed pointless. Like that place…you remember…Milton Priory.”

“Wasn’t that something to do with the gas?” asked Andrée.

“They did say something about that at the time,” I replied.

“I’m glad no one was hurt,” put in Annabelinda. “I’m very glad about that.”

She’s changed, I thought. She sounds as though she really cares. A little while ago she wouldn’t have given the matter a thought.

“By the way,” said Andrée, “did you ever see that house you were interested in?”

“Oh…I was forgetting. That was really what I came about.”

“Is this the one in Beconsdale Square?” I asked.

“Yes, of course. It sounds exciting.”

“I forgot to tell you. I took a look at it.”

“Really?”

“Only from the outside. At least, I suppose it was the one. It was the only one, as a matter of fact, that seemed to be empty in the square.”

“So you actually went there?”

“I came upon Beconsdale Road by chance and thought the square must be close by, so I did a little investigation. I went along the drive and looked in the windows. If it is the one I saw, it is going to suit you.”

“Well, I am going to see it tomorrow. I want you to come with me, Lucinda.”

“I’d love to see more of it.”

“You know exactly where it is. Could you meet me there at two-thirty? The agent will be there to let us in.”

“I’ll be there,” I said. “I must say I found it most intriguing.”

The next day I set out for Beconsdale Square. It was about two-fifteen, which I thought would give me just enough time to reach the house by two-thirty. I guessed Annabelinda would be on time, although normally she was inclined to be late. But this was something she would be enthusiastic about, even though she had Carl Zimmerman on her mind.

I arrived about a minute or so before two-thirty. There was no sign of the agent who was to meet us there.

I went up the drive and stood at the door. It was very silent. I was surprised that Annabelinda had not arrived. I strolled back to the gate and as I did so a man appeared. He was in striped trousers and black coat, and as he carried a briefcase, I guessed that he was the house agent.

“Good afternoon,” he said. “I am a few moments late…the traffic. Shall we go in, Mrs. Merrivale?”

“I am not Mrs. Merrivale,” I replied. “I’m a friend of hers. She wanted me to see the house with her.”

“Oh, of course. May I have the pleasure…?”

“Miss Greenham,” I said, and we shook hands.

“My name is Partington; John Partington of Partington and Pike. Well, I am rather relieved that Mrs. Merrivale is a little late. I hate to keep ladies waiting.”

“Yes, I’m surprised she’s late. She is so eager to see the house. As you say, the traffic can be a problem.”

“I am sure she will be attracted by this house,” he went on. “There is really something very special about it.”

“Yes, it looks interesting. There is quite a sizable garden, by London standards.”

“It really is the country house in town, and that’s the truth.”

“I’m very much looking forward to seeing it.”

He glanced anxiously along the drive. There was no sign of Annabelinda.

“She must be along soon now,” I said.

“Oh, I’m sure she will.”

A few more moments passed and still there was no sign of Annabelinda. He was beginning to be uneasy, and so was I. It was twenty minutes to three.

“Why don’t we go in?” I said.

He was thoughtful for a moment, then he said, “Yes, why not? If something has prevented her coming, you can tell her what you think. But I have no doubt that she will be here soon.”

He took a last look around, opened the door and stood aside for me to enter.

I stepped into the hall. It was spacious and there was the grand staircase that I was sure would please Annabelinda.

I walked across the hall, the sound of my footsteps echoing on the wood floor.

“It is lovely!” I said.

“A very desirable property.”

“Where do these doors lead?”

“Well, one would be to the kitchen, I imagine, and the other to one of the reception rooms.”

I opened that door. I was unprepared for what met my eyes. Annabelinda was lying on the floor, very still, and there was something about her which filled me with an increasing horror.

I stood for a few stunned seconds staring at her. I heard myself gasp, “Mr. Partington…”

“What is it, Miss Greenham?”

He came and stood by my side.

“My God,” he said. “She’s been strangled.”

I had knelt beside her. “Annabelinda,” I said. I kept saying her name over and over again.

She lay there inert. There was a look of surprised terror on her face, which was white and lifeless.

“Annabelinda,” I sobbed. “What was it? What happened?”

I heard Mr. Partington say, “We’ve got to get help….”

I could not rise. I just knelt there, looking at her.