I heard Monique’s voice raised in anger and tried to shut my ears to it. A little later I heard footsteps in the garden and looking through my shutters I saw Redvers striding across the garden. I gathered he must have been called back to the ship and that Monique was protesting. Had she shown him the letter? What was she planning to do with it?

I undressed and got into bed but sleep was naturally impossible; I lay as I had often lain in the Queen’s House listening to the sounds of the house.

As I lay there my door was opened silently and a figure stood in the doorway. I leaped up. I cried out in relief when I saw that it was Chantel.

She looked strange; her hair was loose and she wore a soft silk dressing gown of her favorite shade of green; her eyes were dilated.

“Chantel,” I cried, “what’s wrong?”

Her voice sounded high pitched and unlike itself.

“Read this,” she said. “And when you have read it come to me at once.”

“What is it?”

“Read it and see.”

She threw some papers onto the bed and before I could pick them up had glided out.

I jumped out of bed and lit my candles; then I picked up the papers and read.


Dearest Anna,

There is so much you don’t know, so much I have to tell you. I don’t think there is much time so I must be brief. You remember I told you that there were so many facets of truth and that I had told the truth but not the whole truth. You don’t know me, Anna; not all of me. You know only one little bit of me; and you are very fond of what you know, which pleases me. You read my journal. As I said it was the truth but not the whole truth. I would like to have read it through so that I could have rewritten pieces for you, but that would take too long. You see, I didn’t tell you that Rex fell deeply in love with me. You knew that he was attracted by me but you thought it was mild flirtation on his part. You were sorry for me, anxious for me. I loved you for that, Anna. You see as soon as I entered the Castle I wanted to be mistress of it. I saw myself as the future Lady Crediton and nothing else would satisfy me. I am insatiably ambitious, Anna. In almost all of us there is the secret woman who does not appear for her friends and acquaintances, perhaps not even for the man she marries. But Rex must know me fairly well now. It has not changed his devotion to me. You will remember that I was interested in Valerie Stretton; there was the occasion when she came in with her muddy boots. There was the letter in her bureau. I wrote that Miss Beddoes came in and found me with it in my hands. That was not all the truth. I had read the letter; I had read other letters; I had discovered that Valerie Stretton was being blackmailed. I married Rex and when he was to go to Australia I was determined to go with him. He wanted me to go openly as his wife. I was not going to alienate Lady Crediton at that stage. She could have diverted a large part of her fortune from Rex and I wanted him to have complete control. I knew it was better to keep our marriage secret for a while so I put the idea into Dr. Elgin’s head that our climate was killing Monique. Then I made Monique decide that she wanted to go to see her mother. As this meant sailing on the Captain’s ship she didn’t need a lot of persuading. But I had to have you with us, Anna, and poor old Beddoes was very incompetent. I helped to get her moved on. She sensed it. Who would have believed that? But adventuresses learn to watch for opposition in the most unexpected quarters.

So I rid us of Beddoes and got you into the Castle. Anna, I am fond of you. I intended no harm to come to you. I saved you before, didn’t I? And I was determined to save you whatever happened. But I needed you, Anna. Your friendship, I wanted that, yes … but you were part of my plan.

Now this is where I have to tell you something which will hurt you. It hurts me too. I thought I was hard and strong. And you are what shall I say … conventional. Right is right and wrong is wrong, black is black and white white. That is your creed. You won’t understand this and like a fool I’m putting off telling you till the last minute, although I know there is not much time.

I have to tell you why Valerie Stretton was being blackmailed. She was not the only one. Rex was being blackmailed too. Rex is not exactly an honest man, but he hasn’t got the criminal instincts. He’s too frightened. So far and no farther for Rex. I always knew he was weak. Gareth Glenning was blackmailing Rex. That was why the Glennings were taking the trip. They wanted to keep Rex under supervision. They weren’t going to lose sight of him. He was their chief source of income.

And Valerie Stretton’s secret? It is this: Her son was a few days old when Lady Crediton’s was born. Lady Crediton was very ill, so that she knew there was a very good chance of her plan working. Valerie wanted her son to inherit the Crediton empire. Why not? Sir Edward was his father. It was merely a matter of marriage lines. Lady C. had them, Valerie hadn’t. It was not so difficult. She was in the house. She knew when the nurse was resting, when the baby was asleep in his cot. You can guess what happened. She changed the babies and Rex is her son and Redvers Lady Creditons. That’s how it all started. But she did not get away with it. There was someone in the house who knew the difference between the babies, young as they were. It was the nurse. She knew what Valerie had done.

She hated Lady Crediton; she was fond of Valerie. In fact she may have helped her in the exchange, very probably did. The boys grew up. Valerie couldn’t hide her preference for Rex, which was stupid of her because it could have given the game away. It was three weeks or so after the birth before Lady Crediton was able to take much notice and by that time the boys had decided personalities of their own and everyone — except Valerie and the nurse — believed Rex to be the heir.

It’s always unwise to share secrets. The only safe secret is the one that is never told. That is why I did not tell you all the truth.

The nurse fell on hard times and asked Valerie to help her; Valerie did and as the years passed the friendship between them was forgotten and every now and then Valerie was asked for money in exchange for keeping the secret. The nurse had married rather late in life a widower with a son. She could not resist telling her husband what she knew; and the husband told his son. That son was Gareth Glenning. He was smart. He saw that there was a better source of income than Valerie — Rex.

When Rex was approached he tackled Valerie who confessed; he was horrified. He cares passionately for the business, Anna. He has worked all his life with one aim in view: to take it over. Redvers was just one of the captains. He would not know how to manage such a business. His job was sailing the seas. Rex could not endure to lose what he had always thought would be his. So he allowed himself to be blackmailed.

Now I come to the hardest part of all. I have put off telling you this because I fear you will change toward me. Why should I care? But I do, Anna. It’s strange, but I care very much. You see I’m truly fond of you. I meant what I said when I told you that you were to me as a sister.

It was in a way this secret which brought Rex and me so close together. If I married him it would be my concern as well as his and it was as important to me as to him that this secret should never be known. That was the point, Anna, it must never be known. And how could we make sure that it never would be? It was already in the possession of three people — the nurse, Claire and Gareth Glenning. You see even if they died how could we be sure that they had not passed it on to someone else?

We should never be safe; we should live our lives in a state of uncertainty. Imagine it. At any time someone could appear to tell us that they knew our secret. I have often pointed this out to Rex. He saw my point. You can see that there was only one way by which we could be completely safe. The terms of the will — I had looked them up in Somerset House — were that in the event of the death of the heir and his heirs the estate would pass to that other son of Sir Edward’s — believed to be Redvers but in fact Rex. Therefore in actual fact Rex was not the heir but he would be if Redvers and his heirs were dead.

You see, Anna, everything we do has its effect on us. We take some action after a great deal of consideration and when it is done successfully we repeat it without the same qualms; and in time it becomes a commonplace. When Lady Henrock died she left me two hundred pounds; she was in pain; she could not recover; it seemed a kindness to help her to oblivion. That’s what I told myself. Your Aunt Charlotte would never have recovered. She would have grown more and more impossible; your life would have been a misery, and I knew that she had left me a little money. She told me so. I have a way of worming these secrets out of people. I didn’t realize there would be all the fuss. But I did save you, didn’t I? Believe me I should never have allowed you to have been found guilty of murder.

And then of course, the voyage. I had talked of our affairs with Rex. We had discussed them from every angle. I made him see that there was only one way in which we could be safe to enjoy our inheritance, safe forever. And that was if Redvers were removed. But of course there was Edward. Rex is weak, and I am glad he was. I was fond of Edward. Rex bungled that business on the boat. I always said that a ship should be the easiest place in which to get rid of an unwanted child. I drugged his milk. Rex carried him out of the cabin. He was in his burnoose so wouldn’t have been recognized. Johnny spoiled that. But I don’t believe Rex would ever have done it even if Johnny hadn’t appeared. He seized the opportunity of Johnny’s appearance and I know that he was pleased that Edward was safe. It’s harder to kill a child than disgruntled old women. So Edward lived; but I knew we could not ignore him forever. He was not so important yet though, because even if the secret were discovered he would be unable to take his place as heir for years and Rex would be in charge. There would be time then to arrange something. But Redvers was our immediate concern.

Redvers had to die. How? How could a strong man suddenly be seized with illness? That was impossible. He couldn’t suddenly die of disease. But I always adjusted my plans to the circumstances: A man with a hysterical jealous wife; another woman with whom he was in love and who loved him; and the wife was insanely jealous. I’m sorry Anna, but he was no good to you. I intended to look after you. You would have forgotten him quickly. I was going to have you at the Castle, my sister, my cherished sister. I would have found a husband for you; you would have had a happy life. That was what I intended. But Redvers had to die. And I had made up my mind that there would have to be a murderess.

She will not live long. She could die next week … in two years’ time perhaps. I don’t think from the state of her lungs alone she can live another five years. Her asthmatical attacks are as frequent as ever; they are aggravating the lung condition. I knew that this voyage could not do her any lasting good. So, why should she not take this rôle? There would be compassion for her, particularly in Coralle … the sick and jealous wife. They wouldn’t have been hard on her. And you, Anna, you would be involved in scandal again, but I would be there to protect you. I would have power and position, which I longed for, and I would care for you. And although you would be pointed to as the Other Woman, just as you were as the Niece with a Motive — you see that passes. It is a necessary inconvenience in which I had to involve you then, as now.

But I am fond of you, Anna. It is something I never thought possible, so perhaps there are yet more secret recesses of my mind which I don’t understand myself.

So I decided that when Redvers came home he was going to die.

And that is what I intended tonight. I had worked on Monique. I had deliberately roused her jealousy, oh very subtly. I had seen how useful Suka could be. It was going to be easy. His jealous wife was going to murder the erring husband and that murder was going to take place either tonight or tomorrow night, when the Captain was in this house. I was waiting my opportunity. I knew it would come because she loved to make coffee. She was proud of it because it was her only domestic virtue. I had told her that she made it better than anyone else in the house. I only had to wait for the moment. Tonight he had been talking to you in the garden. Suka knew it and she had told Monique, who made coffee for him in her own room where she had a spirit lamp. She made it and I put something in his coffee, Anna. I shall not tell you what. It was something that would act quickly. Something which was comparatively — but not quite — tasteless. He was excited. He was thinking of you. I didn’t think he would notice that slight acrid taste. When she had made the coffee I said that I thought her blue negligee was more becoming than her red, and she acted as I knew she would and went into the adjoining room to change it. I then did what was necessary. I put the deadly drug into the coffee, stirred it well and when she came back in the blue negligee everything was set.