'Who lives in the other part? Someone who just comes down for weekends?'
'Nobody lives there now,' said Mrs Perry. 'Have another scone, dear.'
'Thank you,' said Tuppence.
'At least nobody's come down here in the last two years. I don't know even who it belongs to now.'
'But when you first came here?'
'There was a young lady used to come down here - an actress they said she was. At least that's what we heard. But we never saw her really. Just caught a glimpse sometimes. She used to come down late on a Saturday night after the show, I suppose. She used to go away on the Sunday evenings.'
'Quite a mystery woman,' said Tuppence, encouragingly.
'You know that's just the way I used to think of her. I used to make up stories about her in my head. Sometimes I'd think she was like Greta Garbo. You know, the way she went about always in dark glasses and pulled-down hats. Goodness now, I've got my peak hat on.'
She removed the witch's headgear from her head and laughed.
'It's for a play we're having at the parish rooms in Sutton Chancellor,' she said. 'You know - a sort of fairy story play for the children mostly. I'm playing the witch,' she added.
'Oh,' said Tuppence, slightly taken aback, then added quickly, 'What fun.'
'Yes, it is fun, isn't it?' said Mrs Perry. 'Just right for the witch, aren't I?' She laughed and tapped her chin. 'You know I've got the face for it. Hope it won't put ideas into people's heads. They'll think I've got the evil eye.'
'I don't think they'd think that of you,' said Tuppence. 'I'm sure you'd be a beneficent witch.'
'Well, I'm glad you think so,' said Mrs Perry. 'As I was saying, this actress - I can't remember her name now - Miss Marchment I think it was, but it might have been something else - you wouldn't believe the things I used to make up about her. Really, I suppose, I hardly ever saw or spoke to her. Sometimes I think she was just terribly shy and neurotic.'
'Reporters'd come down after her and things like that, but she never would see them. At other times I used to think - well, you'll say I'm foolish - I used to think quite sinister things about her. You know, that she was afraid of being recognized. Perhaps she wasn't an actress at all. Perhaps the police were looking for her. Perhaps she was a criminal of some kind. It's exciting sometimes, making things up in your head. Especially when you don't - well - see many people.'
'Did nobody ever come down here with her?'
'Well, I'm not so sure about that. Of course these partition walls, you know, that they put in when they turned the house into two, well, they're pretty thin and sometimes you'd hear voices and things like that. I think she did bring down someone for weekends occasionally.' She nodded her head. 'A man of some kind. That may have been why they wanted somewhere quiet like this.'
'A married man,' said Tuppence, entering into the spirit of make-believe.
'Yes, it would be a married man, wouldn't it?' said Mrs Perry.
'Perhaps it was her husband who came down with her. He'd taken this place in the country because he wanted to murder her and perhaps he buried her in the garden.'
'My!' said Mrs Perry. 'You do have an imagination, don't you? I never thought of that one.'
'I suppose someone must have known all about her,' said Tuppence. 'I mean house agents. People like that.'
'Oh, I suppose so,' said Mrs Perry. 'But I rather liked not knowing, if you understand what I mean.'
'Oh yes,' said Tuppence, 'I do understand.'
'It's got an atmosphere, you know, this house. I mean there's a feeling in it, a feeling that anything might have happened.'
'Didn't she have any people come in to clean for her or anything like that?'
'Difficult to get anyone here. There's nobody near at hand.'
The outside door opened. The big man who had been digging in the garden came in. He went to the scullery tap and turned it, obviously washing his hands. Then he came through into the sitting-room.
'This is my husband,' said Mrs Perry. 'Amos. We've got a visitor, Amos. This is Mrs Beresford.'
'How do you do?' said Tuppence.
Amos Perry was a tall, shambling-looking man. He was bigger and more powerful than Tuppence had realized.
Although he had a shambling gait and walked slowly, he was a big man of muscular build. He said, 'Pleased to meet you, Mrs Beresford.'
His voice was pleasant and he smiled, but Tuppence wondered for a brief moment whether he was really what she would have called 'all there'. There was a kind of wondering simplicity about the look in his eyes and she wondered, too, whether Mrs Perry had wanted a quiet place to live in because of some mental disability on the part of her husband.
'Ever so fond of the garden, he is,' said Mrs Perry.
At his entrance the conversation dimmed down. Mrs Perry did most of the talking but her personality seemed to have changed. She talked with rather more nervousness and with particular attention to her husband. Encouraging him, Tuppence thought, rather in a way that a mother might prompt a shy boy to talk, to display the best of himself before a visitor, and to be a little nervous that he might be inadequate. When she'd finished her tea, Tuppence got up. She said, 'I must be going. Thank you, Mrs Perry, very much for your hospitality.'
'You'll see the garden before you go.' Mr Perry rose. 'Come on, I'll show you.'
She went with him outdoors and he took her down to the corner beyond where he had been digging.
'Nice, them flowers, aren't they?' he said. 'Got some old-fashioned roses here. See this one, striped red and white.'
'"Commandant Beaurepaire",' said Tuppence.
'Us calls it "York and Lancaster" here,' said Perry. 'Wars of the Roses. Smells sweet, don't it?'
'Smells lovely.'
'Better than them new-fashioned Hybrid Teas.'
In a way the garden was rather pathetic. The weeds were imperfectly controlled, but the flowers themselves were carefully tied up in an amateurish fashion.
'Bright colours,' said Mr Perry. 'I like bright colours. We often get folk to see our garden,' he said. 'Glad you came.'
'Thank you very much,' said Tuppence. 'I think your garden and your house are very nice indeed.'
'You ought to see t'other side of it.'
'Is it to let or to be sold? Your wife says there's nobody living there now.'
'We don't know. We've not seen anyone and there's no board up and nobody's ever come to see over it.'
'It would be a nice house, I think, to live in.'
'You wanting a house?'
'Yes,' said Tuppence, making up her mind quickly. 'Yes, as a matter of fact, we are looking round for some small place in the country, for when my husband retires. That'll be next year probably, but we like to look about in plenty of time.'
'It's quiet here if you like quiet.'
'I suppose,' said Tuppence, 'I could ask the local house agents. Is that how you got your house?'
'Saw an advertisement first we did in the paper. Then we went to the house agents, yes.'
'Where was that, in Sutton Chancellor? That's your village, isn't it?'
'Sutton Chancellor? No. Agents' place is in Market Basing. Russell & Thompson, that's the name. You could go to them and ask.'
'Yes,' said Tuppence, 'so I could. How far is Market Basing from here?'
'It's two miles to Sutton Chancellor and it's seven miles to Market Basing from there. There's a proper road from Sutton Chancellor, but it's all lanes hereabouts.'
'I see,' said Tuppence. 'Well, goodbye, Mr Perry, and thank you very much for showing me your garden.'
'Wait a bit.' He stopped, cut off an enormous peony and taking Tuppence by the lapel of her coat, he inserted this trough the buttonhole in it. 'There,' he said, 'there you are. Looks pretty, it does.'
For a moment Tuppence felt a sudden feeling of panic. This large, shambling, good-natured man suddenly frightened her.
He was looking down at her, smiling. Smiling rather wildly, almost leering. 'Pretty it looks on you,' he said again. 'Pretty.'
Tuppence thought 'I'm glad I'm not a young girl... I don't think I'd like him putting a flower on me then.' She said goodbye again and hurried away.
The house door was open and Tuppence went in to say goodbye to Mrs Perry. Mrs Perry was in the kitchen, washing up the tea things and Tuppence almost automatically pulled a teacloth off the rack and started drying.
'Thank you so much,' she said, 'both you and your husband. You've been so kind and hospitable. What's that?'
From the wall of the kitchen, or rather behind the wall where an old-fashioned range had once stood, there came a loud screaming and squawking and a scratching noise too.
'That'll be a jackdaw,' said Mrs Perry, 'dropped down the chimney in the other house. They do this time of the year. One came down our chimney last week. They make nests in the chimneys, you know.'
'What - in the other house?'
'Yes, there it is again.'
Again the squawking and crying of a distressed bird came to their ears. Mrs Perry said, 'There's no one to bother, you see, in the empty house. The chimneys ought to be swept and all that.'
The squawking scratching noises went on.
'Poor bird,' said Tuppence.
'I know. It won't be able to get up again -'
'You mean it'll just die there?'
'Oh yes. One came down our chimney as I say. Two of them, actually. One was a young bird. It was all right, we put it out and it flew away. The other one was dead.'
The frenzied scuffling and squeaking went on.
'Oh,' said Tuppence, 'I wish we could get at it.'
Mr Perry came in through the door. 'Anything the matter?' he said, looking from one to the other.
'There's a bird, Amos. It must be in the drawing room chimney next door. Hear it?'
'Eh, it's come down from the jackdaws' nest.'
'I wish we could get in there,' said Mrs Perry.
'Ah, you can't do anything. They'll die from the fright, if nothing else.'
'Then it'll smell,' said Mrs Perry.
'You won't smell anything in here. You're softhearted,' he went on, looking from one to the other, 'like all females. We'll get it if you like.'
'Why, is one of the windows open?'
'We can get in through the door.'
'What door?'
'Outside here in the yard. The key's hanging up among those.'
He went outside and along to the end, opening a small door there. It was a kind of potting shed really, but a door from it led into the other house and near the door of the potting shed were six or seven rusty keys hanging on a nail.
'This one fits,' said Mr Perry.
He took down the key and put it in the door, and after exerting a good deal of cajolery and force, the key turned rustily in the lock.
'I went in once before,' he said, 'when I heard water running. Somebody'd forgotten to shut the water off properly.'
He went in and the two women followed him. The door led into a small room which still contained various flower vases on a shelf and a sink with a tap.
'A flower room, I shouldn't wonder,' he said. 'Where people used to do the flowers. See? A lot of the vases left here.'
There was a door out of the flower room. 'This was not even locked'. He opened it and they went through. It was like, Tuppence thought, going through into another world. The passageway outside was covered with a pile carpet. A little way along there was a door half-open and from there the sounds of a bird in distress were coming. Perry pushed the door open and his wife and Tuppence went in.
The windows were shuttered but one side of a shutter was hanging loose and light came in. Although it was dim, there was a faded but beautiful carpet on the floor, a deep sage-green in colour. There was a bookshelf against the wall but no chairs or tables. The furniture had been removed no doubt, the curtains and carpets had been left as fittings to be passed on to the next tenant.
Mrs Perry went towards the fireplace. A bird lay in the grate scuffling and uttering loud squawking sounds of distress. She stooped, picked it up, and said, 'Open the window if you can, Amos.'
Amos went over, pulled the shutter aside, unfastened the other side of it and then pushed at the latch of the window. He raised the lower sash which came gratingly. As soon as it was open Mrs Perry leaned out and released the jackdaw. It flopped on to the lawn, hopped a few paces.
'Better kill it,' said Perry. 'It's damaged.'
'Leave it a bit,' said his wife. 'You never know. They recover very quickly, birds. It's fright that makes them so paralysed-looking.'
Sure enough, a few moments later the jackdaw, with a final struggle, a squawk, a flapping of wings flew off.
'I only hope,' said Alice Perry, 'that it doesn't come down that chimney again. Contrary things, birds: Don't know what's good for them. Get into a room, they can never get out of it by themselves. Oh,' she added, 'what a mess.'
She, Tuppence and Mr Perry all stared at the grate. From the chimney had come down a mass of soot, of odd rubble and of broken bricks. Evidently it had been in a bad state of repair for some time.
'Somebody ought to come and live here,' said Mrs Perry, looking round her.
'Somebody ought to look after it,' Tuppence agreed with her. 'Some builder ought to look at it or do something about it or the whole house will come down soon.'
