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“Yes?” Gilfeather encouraged.
“He said we should be wise to call in our own doctor to give another opinion as to how my mother had died.”
“I see. And so you did exactly that?”
“Yes.”
“And whom did you call, Mrs. Murdoch?”
“Dr. Ormorod, of Slingsby Street.”
“I see. Thank you.” He turned with a disarming smile to Argyll. “Your witness, sir.”
“Thank you, thank you indeed.” Argyll uncurled himself from his chair and stood up.
“Mrs. Murdoch …”
She regarded him warily, assuming that he was essentially inimical.
“Yes sir?”
“These clothes and effects of your mother’s that you unpacked … I take it that you did it yourself, rather than having your maid do it? You do have a maid, I imagine?”
“Of course I do!”
“But on this occasion, possibly because of the uniquely tragic circumstances, you chose to unpack them yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
There was a rustle of disapproval around the room. One of the jurors coughed sharply. The judge frowned, seeming on the edge of speech, then at the last moment restrained himself.
“Wh-why?” Griselda looked nonplussed. “I don’t understand.”
“Yes, Mrs. Murdoch,” Argyll repeated, standing grim and motionless, every eye fixed on him. “Why did you unpack your mother’s belongings?”
“I—I did not wish the maid to,” Griselda said chokingly. “She—she was …” She stopped, knowing that the sympathy of the court would finish it for her.
“No, madam, you have misunderstood me,” Argyll said carefully. “I do not mean why did you not have the maid do it. The answer to that, I am sure, we all understand perfectly, and would probably have felt the same in your position. I mean, why did you unpack them at all? Why did you not simply leave them packed, ready to return them to Edinburgh? It was tragically obvious she would no longer need them in London.”
“Oh.” She let out her breath in a sigh, her face very pale except for the faint splash of pink burning in her cheeks.
“One wonders why you unpacked them with such care when it was now quite irrelevant. I would not have done so in your position. I would have left them packed, ready to return.” Argyll’s voice dropped to a low rumble, and yet every word was hideously clear. “Unless, of course, I was looking for something myself?”
Griselda said nothing, but her discomfort was now only too apparent.
Argyll relaxed a little, leaning forward.
“Was the diamond brooch on this list of contents, Mrs. Murdoch?”
“Diamond brooch? No.
No, there was no diamond brooch.”
“You are sure?”
“Yes, of … of course I am sure. Just the gray pearl and the topaz and the amethyst necklace. Only the gray pearl one was missing.”
