"Black or white, they are our brothers."
Vera thought:
"Our black brothers - our black brothers. Oh, I'm going to laugh. I'm hysterical. I'm not myself..."
Emily Brent continued thoughtfully:
"Of course, some of the other accusations were very far-fetched and ridiculous. Against the judge, for instance, who was only doing his duty in his public capacity, And the ex-Scotland Yard man. My own case, too."
She paused and then went on:
"Naturally, considering the circumstances, I was not going to say anything last night. It was not a fit subject to discuss before gentlemen."
"No?"
Vera listened with interest. Miss Brent continued serenely:
"Beatrice Taylor was in service with me. Not a nice girl - as I found out too late. I was very much deceived in her. She had nice manners and was very clean and willing. I was very pleased with her. Of course all that was the sheerest hypocrisy! She was a loose girl with no morals. Disgusting! It was some time before I found out that she was what they call 'in trouble.'" She paused, her delicate nose wrinkling itself in distaste. "It was a great shock to me. Her parents were decent folk, too, who had brought her up very strictly. I'm glad to say they did not condone her behaviour."
Vera said, staring at Miss Brent:
"What happened?"
"Naturally I did not keep her an hour under my roof. No one shall ever say that I condoned immorality."
Vera said in a lower voice:
"What happened - to her?"
Miss Brent said:
"The abandoned creature, not content with having one sin on her conscience, committed a still graver sin. She took her own life."
Vera whispered, horror-struck:
"She killed herself?"
"Yes, she threw herself into the river."
Vera shivered.
She stared at the calm delicate profile of Miss Brent. She said:
"What did you feel like when you knew she'd done that? Weren't you sorry? Didn't you blame yourself?"
Emily Brent drew herself up.
"I? I had nothing with which to reproach myself."
Vera said:
"But if your - hardness - drove her to it"
Emily Brent said sharply:
"Her own action - her own sin - that was what drove her to it. If she had behaved like a decent modest young woman none of this would have happened."
She turned her face to Vera. There was no self-reproach, no uneasiness in those eyes. They were hard and self-righteous. Emily Brent sat on the summit of Indian Island, encased in her own armour of virtue.
The little elderly spinster was no longer slightly ridiculous to Vera.
Suddenly - she was terrible.
II
Dr. Armstrong came out of the dining-room and once more came out on the terrace.
The judge was sitting in a chair now, gazing placidly out to sea.
Lombard and Blore were over to the left, smoking but not talking.
As before, the doctor hesitated for a moment His eye rested speculatively on Mr. Justice Wargrave. He wanted to consult with some one. He was conscious of the judge's acute logical brain. But nevertheless he wavered. Mr. Justice Wargrave might have a good brain but he was an elderly man. At this juncture, Armstrong felt what was needed was a man of action.
He made up his mind.
"Lombard, can I speak to you for a minute?"
Philip started.
"Of course."
The two men left the terrace. They strolled down the slope towards the water. When they were out of earshot, Armstrong said:
"I want a consultation."
Lombard's eyebrows went up. He said:
"My dear fellow, I've no medical knowledge."
"No, no, I mean as to the general situation."
"Oh, that's different."
Armstrong said:
"Frankly, what do you think of the position?"
Lombard reflected a minute. Then he said:
"It's rather suggestive, isn't it?"
"What are your ideas on the subject of that woman? Do you accept Blore's theory?"
Philip puffed smoke into the air. He said:
"It's perfectly feasible - taken alone."
"Exactly."
Armstrong's tone sounded relieved. Philip Lombard was no fool.
The latter went on:
"That is, accepting the premise that Mr. and Mrs. Rogers have successfully got away with murder in their time. And I don't see why they shouldn't. What do you think they did exactly? Poisoned the old lady?"
Armstrong said slowly:
"It might be simpler than that. I asked Rogers this morning what this Miss Brady had suffered from. His answer was enlightening. I don't need to go into medical details, but in a certain form of cardiac trouble, amyl nitrite is used. When an attack comes on an ampoule of amyl nitrite is broken and it is inhaled. If amyl nitrite were withheld - well, the consequences might easily be fatal."
Philip Lombard said thoughtfully:
"As simple as that. It must have been - rather tempting."
The doctor nodded.
"Yes, no positive action. No arsenic to obtain and administer - nothing definite - just - negation! And Rogers hurried through the night to fetch a doctor and they both felt confident that no one could ever know."
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