“I see you are very prosperous.”

He slapped his thigh with an exaggerated gesture. “Can’t deny it. Can’t deny it.”

“Well, good day.”

I was glad to escape. I found him as repulsive as when he had sat in the kitchen watching the maids slyly while he pulled at the long black hair on his arms.

MY SON WAS BORN in the May of that year 1902—in the same month that the war with South Africa was finally over and the Peace of Vereeniging was signed, depriving the Boers of their independence.

I wondered how Lilias was getting on. There would be tremendous relief out there, I was sure.

My days were taken up with my son. We called him Stephen after Ninian’s father who, with his wife, was so delighted with this grandson that I was sure they almost forgave me for being who I was.

As for myself, I could forget, at this time, all that had gone before.

I took the child to see Zillah. She was delighted. It had never occurred to me that she would have much time to spare for children. Her illness had changed her. In the past she had seemed to be straining for excitement, looking for adventure; now she seemed almost reconciled at times.

I was happier than I had thought possible, for I could not regret anything which had brought me to this state. I remembered Zillah’s saying that if that nightmare had not come to pass, I should not have met Ninian. Stephen would not have existed.

I wrote to Lilias telling her about the wonder child and, now that the war was over, I heard from her. She was expecting a child. The bond between us seemed stronger than ever. We had both come through tragic times together and both found happiness.

Happiness was sometimes fragile; but now I had Ninian and my baby, I felt secure.

The months passed. Stephen was beginning to smile, then to crawl, and then to take notice. He liked Zillah. He would sit on her lap and gaze at her. He was quite fascinated by her red hair. She still took a great deal of pains with her appearance. Her skin was delicately tinted, her eyes bright under her darkened brows. Sometimes I thought she could not be so very ill—except that she was thin.

One day there was news which startled us. Hamish Vosper had been killed in a fight by a rival. There was a hint of something called the Edinburgh Mafia.

It was revealed that for some time there had been trouble between two rival gangs, both engaged in nefarious practices, and that Hamish Vosper, who was the leader of one, had been killed by the other. Such men, said the press, were a disgrace to the fair city of Edinburgh.

They were suspected not only of deciding which horses were allowed to win races, by the use of drugs so that they could back the outsider winners, but many other crimes.

“We want no such gang rule in Edinburgh,” wrote one commentator. “The death of Hamish Vosper is rough justice on one of our ignoble citizens.”

I went to see Zillah when I heard the news. Mrs. Kirkwell received me in a mood of subdued triumph.

“I always knew that Hamish Vosper would come to a bad end,” she said. “I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but the master ought to have got rid of him years ago when he was caught with that maid. Well, I’ve seen something like this coming. I said to Kirkwell, ‘He’s up to no good, mark my words. There he was in his fancy clothes, throwing his weight about.

Ah,’ I said to Kirkwell. ‘He’s up to no good, mark my words.’ It’s terrible to think that he was here … one of us, you might say … though never really that. And then after you’d gone … he used to come here … even going up to see Mrs. Glentyre. I never could understand why she allowed it.”

I went up to Zillah. She was looking better. I thought, something has happened.

She said: “I feel fine today. Just like my old self.”

“You certainly look it. Have you read the newspapers today?”

“Why yes. You’re thinking about Hamish.”

“It’s rather shocking … particularly as he was here and we knew him.”

“Yes.”

“I never liked him … but to think of him … dead …”

“These things happen. It seemed he was living dangerously, and when you do that you can’t be surprised if you come to a bad end.”

“Had you any idea … ?”

“Well … yes … I guessed he was up to no good. He was that sort. He was dabbling in all sorts of things … playing with fire, you might say. Well, he got burned.”

“You must have seen him quite recently. I met him here not long ago.”

“He used to come to the house. He wanted the Kirkwells to see how he’d got on. Foolish man. A lesson to us all, Davina.”

I was surprised at her attitude. But then Zillah had always surprised me.

Ninian’s comment was: “Gang warfare. This sort of thing has been going on in some places for years. It’s not what one would expect in Edinburgh. But it is an indication that it can happen anywhere. Let’s hope that will be the end of it … here at least.”

ZILLAH CONTINUED TO IMPROVE. She was quite lighthearted. I was seeing more of her, for she so enjoyed having Stephen with her.

I vividly remember one conversation I had with her at that time. Stephen was playing in a corner and we were both watching him.

Zillah said suddenly: “He’s the most adorable child. I never thought I should want children. But, do you know, when I see him I think of what I have missed.”

“Perhaps you’ll marry again.”

She smiled at me ironically. “It’s a bit late in the day to think about that.”

“One never knows. You are so much better. You could be cured. You’re not old and you are very beautiful.”

She laughed quite lightheartedly.

Then I said: “I worry about Stephen sometimes.”

“Worry? There’s nothing wrong with him, is there?”

“Oh no. He’s in perfect health. I just think that someone might say something.”

“Say what?”

“Someone might remember. It might come out that his mother stood trial for murder … and what the verdict was.”

“That’s all over and done with.”

“Not as far as I am concerned, Zillah. It will always be there. How would one feel to learn that one’s mother might have been a murderess?”

“Stephen would never think that.”

“How could he help it? The question is there and always will be.”

“It’s a morbid thought.”

“But it is the truth, Zillah.”

“People are going to forget … by the time he grows up.”

“There could be some to remember. Not long ago someone referred to Madeleine Smith, and that happened fifty years ago.”

“It was a very famous case.”

“Mine was very well-known.”

“You must stop worrying about it. Stephen is going to be all right.”

She spoke with conviction, but I could see that my words had made her very thoughtful. She knew that what I had said was true.

I told her the truth about Roger Lestrange then; how, through Kitty, he had discovered who I was; how he had the newspaper cuttings of my trial; how he was going to use me, if need be, to indicate that I was an unconvicted murderess who might be ready to try the same methods again.

She was deeply shocked. “It’s hard to believe …” she whispered.

“Nevertheless it’s true. Now you see what I mean? It will be there as long as I live.”

She was silent for a few moments, staring blankly before her. Then she reached for my hand and pressed it firmly.

She said slowly: “You must stop worrying about it. You’re going to be all right. Stephen is going to be all right.”

I CALLED ON ZILLAH and, to my surprise, Mrs. Kirkwell said she had gone out.

Mrs. Kirkwell’s lips were pursed disapprovingly.

“She’s not fit,” she went on. “I told her so. ‘You must be mad to think of going out, Mrs. Glentyre,’ I said. She was well wrapped up, but she looked far from well … and she’s so thin. You notice it in her outdoor clothes.”

“Why should she go out? She hasn’t been out for some weeks, has she?”

“Only when she gets this letter. That’s the only time she goes out.”

“She had a letter then?”

“Yes. It comes now and then. And then she always insists on going out.”

“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.