Free Ghosts of Mayfield Court by Norman Russell Page B

written statement later.’
    The two men watched as I led the weeping Mrs Milsom up the staircase. I heard the inspector say to Michael in low tones: ‘It’s always a good idea to get the ladies out of the way at a time like this. A police hearse will arrive in a few minutes’ time to take the body away to Horseferry Road mortuary, and I need the hall clear for that eventuality. Go in now, sir, and talk to Dr Whitney, if you like.’
    He nodded towards the parlour, and left the house by the open front door.

    I have my own sitting-room on the first floor, facing the long, well-tended rear garden of our house. I made Mrs Milsom sit down on a sofa, despite her protests that it ‘wasn’t right’. The housekeeper had gained control of herself, though she was still very obviously shocked and bewildered.
    â€˜Miss Catherine,’ she said, ‘I’ve already told that police inspector all I know. The woman arrived here not long after you’d left for the theatre. From the way she spoke to the carriage driver I judge that she was a lady – an educated person, at least. When I showed her into the parlour Mr Paget rose to greet her—’
    â€˜Did he show any signs of agitation?’ I asked. ‘I’m sorry to have interrupted you.’
    â€˜Not at all, miss. Mr Paget seemed quite at ease, in fact he took the lady’s hand and bowed over it in that old-fashioned way he had. Oh dear! I can see him now, in my mind’s eye. Whoever shewas, miss, Mr Paget knew her. After all, he was expecting the visit, and for all I know he may have asked her to the house himself. Who was she? And why did she commit such a wicked murder? I hope Inspector Blade hunts her down, and that she ends up on the gallows!’
    For the last few minutes I had felt myself growing strong enough to cope with the horror of my uncle’s violent death. I would grieve for him, but some inner recess of my mind bore a message of liberation from his life-long domination over me. I was my own woman now, free to make my own choices.
    â€˜Now, Mrs Milsom,’ I said, ‘I want you to tell me whether you heard any scraps of the conversation between my uncle and that woman. No, this is no time for niceties about eavesdropping. Did you hear anything?’
    â€˜After I’d shown her in, miss,’ said Milsom, ‘I left the room and closed the door. As I was doing so, I heard the woman say: “The old fool gets loose, and God only knows what he’ll blab about unless we get him permanently under restraint.” I’ll confess to you, Miss Catherine, that I stood outside the door for a while, wondering what those words could mean. The master seemed agitated, and he raised his voice, so that I heard him say something about “making away with him”. It was like a question, as though he was saying, “Shall we make away with him?” or “Are you going to make away with him?”
    â€˜I began to get frightened then, miss, and hurried away into the kitchen passage, but not before I heard the woman’s voice again. I don’t know what she said, but I did hear the single word “Forshaw”. And that’s all I can tell you, miss, because that’s all I heard.’

    Later that evening, before he left for his billet in St Thomas’s, Michael told me what had occurred when he joined Dr Whitney in the parlour.
    â€˜Whitney’s a good fellow,’ he said, ‘a lithe, restless kind of manwith a short spade beard. He pointed towards— Look, perhaps I’d better spare you the details—’
    â€˜No!’ I cried, surprised at my own vehemence. ‘I am tired of men trying to deprive me of information. Tell me what happened! Tell me what you saw!’
    Part of me was horrified at my unbecoming forcefulness. I saw Michael suddenly look at me with something approaching awe.
    â€˜Very well, Cath,’ he said. ‘Your uncle was