The Jade God by Alan Sullivan (snow like ashes series txt) 📕

notice any difference in Perkins at dinner? Isn’t her control amazing?”

“Not much, except that she seemed in a way less grim.”

“Of course she is. She must have suspected the peddler all along, and when she saw him carried off like that one can imagine what she felt⁠—at least one could if it weren’t Perkins.” She hesitated. “Is he dead?” she asked gravely.

He nodded. “The life seemed to go out of him when he was struggling with the constable. Peters said he put something in his mouth⁠—which was no doubt poison.”

Edith shuddered. “How dreadful! It was the fear of the other kind of death, wasn’t it? What did Martin say or do then?”

“Nothing, but stare and stare and look satisfied in a grim sort of way.”

“He must have been something more than satisfied; so is Perkins. This is probably the first evening for two years when they have known peace. You remember, Jack, I told you I didn’t think Martin was really guilty.”

“Martin,” said Derrick slowly, “is now in jail, charged with complicity in Millicent’s murder.”

At the door came a sudden and violent crash. It had opened without sound, and there stood Perkins with the ruins of coffee-cups at her feet. Her hands were gripped together, her lips parted, and the suffering of the damned was written on her colorless cheeks. Her eyes, now large and staring, seemed to be fixed immovably on space. Then, imperceptibly, she regained a sort of shuddering consciousness.

“I’m extremely sorry, madam, but I tripped over the doormat.”

The voice was lifeless, devoid of inflection, so flat as to be almost unhuman. She stooped, gathered up the shattered china, and disappeared. Edith, too shaken for a moment to speak, regarded her brother with frightened astonishment.

“What do you mean?” she stammered presently.

“Exactly that. Neither you nor Perkins could see what happened after Blunt was taken to the cottage.”

He went on with a sort of labored carefulness and told her all, shooting meanwhile quick glances at the door, where shortly Perkins would reappear. Neither of them doubted that she would be master enough of herself for this. In the middle of it she came in, looking straight ahead. The tremor had left her body, her hands were again steady, her face impassive as ever. She put the tray beside her mistress and went out. At the click of the latch Edith gave a gasp.

“I didn’t know such a woman existed,” she whispered. “Till a minute ago she thought that Martin was a free man and innocent.”

He shook his head. “Free, perhaps, but not innocent. It was obvious from what little I got out of her this afternoon that she was doing all she could to divert suspicion to Blunt, without actually accusing him. She was afraid of Blunt and wanted to get rid of him.”

“But why save Martin at the expense of Blunt?”

“That I can’t say.”

“But the only evidence you have against Martin is that the kris was found hidden in his cottage wrapped up in his clothing?”

“Yes.”

“Could that be called final and sufficient? Could he be convicted on that?”

“It’s enough to start with and puts it up to him to disprove his guilt, and he can’t do that without telling the whole story.”

Edith was unconverted. “He actually left that thing, which may be enough to condemn him, hidden in an old shirt where anyone could have found it. That doesn’t seem likely, does it?”

“Perhaps not, but there it was.”

“Jack,” she said suddenly, “that’s not the action of a guilty man. How long had the peddler been there?”

“Only a few hours, as you know.”

“And why did he ask if this room was the same as it was the night of the murder?”

“I’ve been puzzling over that. It could not have been a shot in the dark, and it laid him open to the suspicion that he had seen the place before.”

“Then, listen, Jack,” she said excitedly. “I’m sure he did see the place before. Everything points to that, and you’ve got the wrong man, and it was Blunt who killed Mr. Millicent on account of that thing.” She pointed to the jade god. “Can’t you see how clear it is? He had some sort of hold over Martin and Perkins, probably through that same horrid influence, and they were afraid to incriminate him. Two years afterward he turns up again, and Martin was amazed and terrified to see him, thinking the matter was done with. While he is with Martin, and that was very cleverly arranged, they have arguments which you overheard, and somehow he manages to conceal in Martin’s clothes the knife, or one just like it, before making another attempt at the image. You’ll have to be frightfully careful now what is done, or an innocent man may be punished.”

Derrick looked at her, genuinely puzzled.

“There may be something in that. Anything else to suggest?”

“No, I’m not a detective, but it’s the way any sensible person would look at it, if I may say so. And, yes, there is one thing.”

“What is that?”

“I’d go straight to Jean tomorrow morning and tell her the whole story. She might be able to help, as it will probably suggest other things to her you haven’t discussed yet.”

Derrick took a long breath. “I will,” he said.

IX The Escape

It had been a cold night, and frost still sparkled on the dank grass when Derrick neared the Millicents’. He had spent sleepless hours picturing this meeting, recounting all there was to be said, and casting about as to how the story might be put so as to revive as little as possible the poignant memories of two years ago. It was a strange mission that carried him now to his girl, but she greeted him with a calm suggesting that she was not altogether unprepared. Mrs. Millicent, unmistakably agitated, pressed his hand with a nervous tremor.

“You have more news for us, Mr. Derrick? Jean has told me what you told her yesterday. It is all utterly puzzling, and I wish I could