Part 41 (2/2)

”But you see in this case there wasn't anybody dead--at least, so I understood from Mrs. Carstairs.”

”Yes, there was, then,” returned Cherry, still unforgiving. ”I'd gone and killed my best-b'loved Lady Daimler”--christened from her mother's car--”on purpose to make a pretty death-bed for Tochatti--and then she simply flew into a temper--oh, a most _dreadful_ temper, my dear!” At the thought of Tochatti's anger she forgave Anstice's lesser offence, and took him once more into her favour.

”That was too bad, especially as I'm sure Tochatti doesn't, often lose her temper with you,” said Anstice with some guile; and Cherry looked at him gravely, without speaking.

”Not with me,” she announced presently. ”But Tochatti gets awful cross sometimes. She used to be fearful angry with Nurse Marg'ret. Where's Nurse Marg'ret now, my dear?”

”Don't know, Cherry. I suppose she is nursing someone else by this time.

Why do you want to know?”

”'Cos I like Nurse Marg'ret,” said Cherry seriously. ”Tochatti didn't.

She made a wax dollie of her once, and she only does that when she doesn't like peoples.”

”A wax dollie?” Anstice was honestly puzzled. ”My dear child, what do you mean?”

”She did,” said Cherry stoutly. ”She maded an image like what they have in their churches, because I saw her do it--out of a candle, and then she got a great long pin and stuck it in the gas and runned it into the little dollie.” As Cherry grew excited her speech became slightly unintelligible. ”And I know it was Nurse Marg'ret 'cos she wrote a great big 'M' on a bit of paper and pinned it on to show who it was meant for.”

Her words made an instant and very unexpected impression on her hearer; not alone as a revelation of Tochatti's mediaeval fas.h.i.+on of revenging herself upon an unconscious rival--though this method of revenge was amazing in the twentieth century--but as a strangely apt confirmation of those doubts and suspicions which had been gathering round the Italian woman in Anstice's mind during the last few days.

If Cherry had spoken truly--and there was no reason to think the child was lying--then Tochatti's supposed inability to write was an error; and once that fact were proved it should not, surely, be difficult to unravel the mystery which had already caused so much unhappiness.

But first he must make sure.

”Tell me, Cherry”--he spoke lightly--”how did you see all this? Surely Tochatti didn't show you what she was doing?”

”No.” For a second Cherry looked abashed; then her spirit returned to her and she spoke boldly. ”It was one night when Nurse Marg'ret had gone to bed--she was awful tired, and Tochatti said she'd sit up with me ... and I was cross, 'cos I didn't want her, I wanted Nurse Marg'ret,”

said Cherry honestly, ”so I wouldn't speak to her, though she tried ever so hard to make me, and she thought I'd gone to sleep, and I heard her say something in 'talian.... I 'spect it was something naughty, 'cos she sort of hissed it, like a nasty snake once did at me when I was a teeny baby in Injia,” said Cherry lucidly, ”and then she looked up to be sure I was asleep, so I shutted my eyes ever so tight, and then she made the wax dollie and I watched her do it.” Wicked Cherry chuckled gleefully at the remembrance.

”But the letter 'M'--how do you know she wrote that?” Anstice put the question very quietly.

”'Cos she couldn't find nothin' to write with, so she crept into Nurse Marg'ret's room next through mine and came back with her pen--one of those things what has little ink-bottles inside them,” said Cherry, referring, probably, to the nurse's beloved ”Swan.” ”And I watched her ever so close, 'cos I wanted to see what she was going to do, and she wrote a big 'M' on a bit of paper and pinned it into the dollie----”

”Into?” For a moment Anstice was puzzled.

”Yes, 'cos you see the dollie was all soft and squeezy,” explained Cherry obligingly, ”and it hadn't got no clothes on to pin it to, so it had to go into the soft part of the dollie.”

”I see. But”--Anstice was still puzzled--”why do you say the dollie was meant for Nurse Margaret? Mightn't it have been somebody else?”

”No--'cos when Tochatti hates anyone she makes wax dollies end sticks pins into them,” returned Cherry calmly. ”I know, 'cos she once told me about a girl she knew what wanted somebody to die, and she did that and the person died.”

”Oh, my dear little Cherry, what nonsense!” Anstice, whose mother had been an Irishwoman, had heard of the superst.i.tion before, had even known an old crone in a little Irish cabin high up in the mountains who had, so it was said, practised the rite with success; but to hear the unholy gospel from Cherry's innocent lips was distinctly distasteful; and instinctively he tried to shake her faith in Tochatti's teaching.

”'Tisn't nonsense--at least I don't think so,” said Cherry, rather dubiously. ”Of course Nurse Marg'ret didn't die.... I don't think she even got ill--but p'raps Tochatti didn't stick the pins in far 'nuff.”

”Well, I'm quite sure if she stuck in all the pins out of your cherry-tree pincus.h.i.+on it wouldn't affect Nurse Margaret or anybody else,” said Anstice, putting his arm round her shoulders as he spoke.

”And you really mustn't get such silly notions into your head, Cherry Ripe!”

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