“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.

I won’t bore you with all that happened but I did finally work in a rather sleazy boarding house near the Tottenham Court Road. All I had was my red hair and the sort of appearance that made people notice me. I had long before learned that this was something I could use to my advantage, and I did.

In the hotel I caught the attention of a minor theatrical agent and it was through him that I got one or two little parts. I wasn’t much good. All I had was my looks.

All the little things that happened to me at that time don’t really come into this, so I’ll skip them. Finally I joined the Jolly Red Heads and we toured the music halls when we could get engagements.

And then we came to Edinburgh. That’s where it all began. Men used to come to the theatre to look out for the girls. They’d be at the stage door. You know the sort of thing. And one night Hamish Vosper was there.

I know how you dislike him. You always did. But there was something about him which appealed to some women. He was arrogant and selfish, but he was virile … he was a man. He thought he was irresistible to women and somehow he made them feel he was—and for a time, I was one of those who did. He used to come to the theatre every night we were there and after the show we’d be together.

He told me about his employer—a gentleman who was strict and the glory-be-to-God type, but underneath all that he liked to indulge in a little fun now and then. Hamish said he had a hold over him because he’d discovered what he was up to. He had this invalid wife, said Hamish, and of course there had not been much between them for some years, which was more than the old fellow could take. So he had his little jaunts. He knew that Hamish knew and Hamish only had to give him what he called “the eye” and the old fellow would turn a blind one to whatever Hamish wanted to do.

It was an intriguing situation … and one night Hamish brought me to the notice of your father.

He took me to supper and we liked each other from the start. He was a courtly gentleman and I hadn’t seen many of that sort. And I can say he was very taken with me, which made me like him all the more. It wasn’t long before we were going to hotels together. It was all very discreet because of his position. I thought it wouldn’t last but he got more and more fond of me in a sentimental sort of way.

Hamish was tickled to death and he had an idea. “You ought to come to the house,” he said. “I know … you could be a governess. There is a girl.” That made me laugh. Me … a governess? Well, the Red Heads were on the way out. We had the occasional boo when we came on. We’d known for a long time that we simply weren’t good enough for the West End. That was why we were touring the provinces. I thought it would be nice to have a comfortable home and not have to do all this travelling, so I said I was interested in this governessing business.

I swear I did not know how Hamish arranged it. I had no idea that there was already a governess and she had to be got rid of. I wouldn’t have agreed to that … or I don’t think I would. I want to be absolutely honest, you see. And I was rather desperate at that time.

Well, your Lilias went and Hamish suggested to your father that he brought me in. It shows how besotted your father was about me … for he agreed.

I took to you from the start. I knew, of course, I couldn’t teach you anything. You were far better educated already than I ever could be, but I thought it was a bit of fun … and much better than doing the Jolly Red Heads to audiences who were growing more and more critical.

Then your father asked me to marry him. I couldn’t believe my luck. I would leave the old life behind me. It was the chance of a lifetime. I could be comfortable for the rest of my days, the darling of a doting old man. It seemed too good to be true.

I was more contented than I ever hoped to be. I had forgotten Hamish. I would have a secure home and a promise of comfort for the rest of my life. I would be the mistress of the house. But Hamish was still the coachman.

He was dissatisfied. Whose idea had it been? And who was getting everything out of it while he was getting nothing? Then he had a plan. He wanted to marry me … and be master of the house. I was horrified at what this implied. I was fond of my new life, fond of my husband, fond of my new stepdaughter. I liked it all. But Hamish wouldn’t have it. He had started it and he was going to see it carried through as he wanted it.

You can guess the rest. I was weak. Hamish still had some power over me. I knew what was in his mind. I should have exposed him. I should have confessed to my relationship with him. Oh, there were lots of things I should have done!

Davina, you don’t know what the comfort of that house meant to me … the easy way of life and all that. No one could understand unless they had been through what I had. I am not making excuses. There are no excuses. It just seemed that I had started on this and I had no choice but to go on.

Hamish had planned it. We would get rid of the old man. I would mourn for a year. Hamish would comfort me. I would, after a respectable period, marry him. I would, of course, have to make sure that the old man’s fortune was left to me. We wouldn’t want to stay in Edinburgh. People would raise their eyebrows when the ex-governess married the coachman. We’d sell the house and go abroad. He had it all worked out.

Ellen Farley—that’s not her real name, of course—was a friend of Hamish. He recommended her to your father and he brought her into the house. He thought it would be a good idea to have one of the servants working with us.

Well, he bought the arsenic for the rats. There were some near the mews so he made sure others had seen them and it was the fact that they were there which gave him the idea to do it that way. Hamish said he knew something about arsenic. Hamish said he knew something about everything.

His idea was to poison your father slowly. He thought through the port wine.

Then there was all that fuss about you and Jamie and the whole house knew that your father had threatened to disinherit you. We knew too that he had chosen Alastair McCrae for you. If you had married Alastair McCrae you wouldn’t have come into Hamish’s plan, but you didn’t and Hamish wanted to have a way out, as he called it, if things shouldn’t turn out as he planned. Just like Roger Lestrange, he thought it would be a good idea to have a scapegoat … if anything should go wrong. I suppose these calculating murderers think alike. And like Roger Lestrange, he laid the snare to entrap you … to have someone at hand in case he should need to shift the blame to someone else. He set you up to be that scapegoat because Fate had given him a reason —your father’s objection to the young man you wanted to marry.

Hamish arranged for you to buy the poison. Ellen was to ask you to. Please believe me when I say I did not know of this at the time. Hamish did not tell me. He thought me squeamish—soft and sentimental—and he knew I was getting fond of you. Do you remember the night I was late back? I was with Hamish. We went to a place outside Edinburgh. It’s true we were lovers then. I know how dreadful it must sound … and it is no use my offering excuses because there really aren’t any. Hamish was anxious not to be caught because that would have spoilt the whole plan … so we always went some little way out of the town.