Free The Hidden Man by Robin Blake Page A

it.’
    â€˜I can inform you of this because, as well as Coroner, I happen to be one of Mr Pimbo’s executors. He has left you a legacy, Miss Peel.’
    She started.
    â€˜He has? What legacy?’
    â€˜It is his four-acre orchard and his beehives. Do you have any idea why he picked that particular property for you?’
    â€˜The orchard lies across the lane from here,’ she said. ‘He knew that in my leisure time I like to walk in it and, if the weather’s fine, sit there; and it was I who supervise the annual fruit and honey harvests. Those must be his reasons.’
    â€˜That seems very likely. But I must add something more. Mr Pimbo attached a condition to the bequest and I’d like, if possible, to know his reason. He said you must forfeit the bequest should you ever marry.’
    â€˜Oh!’
    Her eyes widened in outright shock and her mouth dropped momentarily open before she covered it with her hand. She was looking directly into my eyes, a woman transfixed by surprise.
    â€˜I don’t know, Mr Cragg. I can’t think. I’m … at a loss.’
    â€˜Miss Peel, this is difficult but I am charged with finding the cause of Mr Pimbo’s death. So I must ask. Was there any matter between you and Mr Pimbo that I should know about? Was there any understanding, perhaps?’
    By now she had flushed a deep crimson, and was breathing deeply, but she continued to stare at me.
    I prompted her.
    â€˜Such testamentary conditions are not unknown. Sometimes a husband does not wish his wife to remarry out of jealousy or even – I am sorry to say – spite.’
    â€˜Mr Pimbo and I were not secretly married, if that is what you suggest.’
    â€˜No, I am wondering, were you engaged to be married?’
    During the marked pause following my question I could see she was thinking, and suspected her of calculating how much to tell me of what she was thinking. I waited and slowly she composed herself. Her furious blush had largely faded, and her breath become more measured, when at last she decided to speak.
    â€˜No, we were not engaged to be married. There was no understanding between us and nor was I … I mean, I was not dishonoured. But, but…’
    â€˜Yes, Miss Peel?’
    She turned her large black eyes full on mine once again.
    â€˜He wanted to, Mr Cragg. He pressed me, pressed me so hard, that there came a time when I was afraid I would submit. Yet I did not. I did not!’
    Her free hand was clenched now and she held her whole body in tension.
    â€˜What did he say to you, when he was pressing you in that way? I mean, what was his tone? Wheedling? Threatening?’
    She shook her head. The colour in her face and neck had completely drained away, and the complexion was again white as paper.
    â€˜I don’t know … I mean, I would deliberately distract myself, try not to listen. It is a jumble. I really cannot tell you any one thing in particular that he said to me.’
    â€˜And when was all this? Recently?’
    â€˜Last year.’
    â€˜So he had more recently stopped pestering you?’
    â€˜Some months ago, when he knew at last that he could not persuade me. After that he always treated me abruptly.’
    â€˜And the condition in his will that you never marry: what do you make of that? Do you think it came from resentment that you would not, as you put it, submit?’
    As our conversation proceeded I saw that she had begun to relax her posture, as she regained control over her feelings.
    â€˜I don’t know what his thoughts were. I could never comprehend him. So how, I ask you, could I love such a man? How could I debase myself with such a man?’
    â€˜Would it have been debasement to marry him?’
    â€˜Marriage, Sir, was not his prime object.’
    â€˜I see. Yet he must have loved you, for all that.’
    At this she rose from the chair and stepped past me towards the door. I went on,