"Ah, poor Bella Foxley, you mean? I'm afraid we can hardly say so, though, can we? She was acquitted, you know. Poor soul! Poor soul! Such a wretched end, and hounded to it, one might almost say."
"Oh, no, one might not," replied Mrs. Bradley firmly. "That's why I'm here. I need not trouble you very much," she added, "but I want to know, first, who this is."
She took out one of George's snapshots of Miss Foxley. The vicar examined it carefully, almost as though he were handling Exhibit A at a trial for murder; as, indeed, thought Mrs. Bradley, he probably was.
"This, to the best of my knowledge, recollection, and belief," he said, "is Miss Tessa Foxley."
"Ah!" said Mrs. Bradley. "Do you mind writing that opinion on the back of the snapshot and signing your name?"
"Not at all," replied the vicar. "My pen ..." Mrs. Bradley produced her own, and watched, with a grimness strange to see upon her dread yet, on the whole, good-humoured countenance, whilst he wrote, neatly, and, to her great comfort and admiration, quite legibly, the name Tessa Foxley, and signed his own name underneath.
"I should, perhaps, add the date?" he suggested.
"An excellent idea," said Mrs. Bradley cordially. She had been going to suggest this herself. The vicar added the date, and handed the snapshot back.
"Now," said Mrs. Bradley, "I wonder whether you would be kind enough to describe Miss Bella Foxley?"
"The only thing that I remember is that she had fair hair and rather a nice complexion," said the vicar. "I should not have noticed the complexion, but for the fact that it was so different from that of her sister. One could not help remarking the difference, for one scarcely ever saw one without the other. They were very lonely, poor souls. Both had had their troubles, I understand. To tell the truth, I sometimes thought Miss Bella's troubles had unhinged her."
"When did Miss Tessa Foxley come here to join her sister?" Mrs. Bradley enquired.
"Oh, she didn't," the vicar answered. "The house was taken by Miss Tessa, who thereupon sent an invitation to Miss Bella to come and join her. She told me all about her sister's dreadful ordeal, said what a mercy it was no newspaper photographs were taken, and begged that we would never mention it to her sister, as it had left her very nervous and depressed. She even asked us not to disclose either of their Christian names. As a matter of fact, it was not until Miss Bella's dreadful end that anybody in the village except myself and my dear wife knew who they were, I believe."
"They kept their surname, I suppose? They did not go under a false name to the tradespeople, for instance?"
"No. And when they were together they called one another Flossie and Dossie—childhood appellations, I imagine."
"Did they seem to hit it off? No quarrels, for instance?"
"No, I am sure there were no quarrels."
"Did you ever have speech with Miss Bella when Miss Tessa wasn't there?"
"Never. But I several times spoke to Miss Tessa by herself. She told me how extremely good her sister had been to her. It seems that a wealthy aunt left all her money to Miss Bella, and that she shared everything with Miss Tessa. Then, of course, upon Miss Bella's death, it all came to Miss Tessa, and she moved away. She moved very soon after the funeral. She said she would have wished to stay on in the village, and mentioned our kindness—although I'm afraid I cannot claim that we ever did very much except to keep their little secrets—the trial, you know, and the Christian names, and so forth—and, of course, my dear wife and I used to visit them occasionally, but really a good deal of the kindness was on the other side. We never asked for a subscription in vain, for instance, at that house, and Miss Tessa was an excellent stand-by if we wanted a talk in the village hall or at a Mothers' Meeting. She was also a most excellent cook. Poor Miss Bella couldn't cook at all."
"Really?" said Mrs. Bradley. "Wasn't Miss Tessa at a Mothers' Meeting when her sister ...?"
"Very distressing," said the vicar. "Very distressing indeed. I know that she blamed herself very much. Had she been with her sister, she said, it would never have happened. The meeting was at a quarter-past two, you see, and she came back here to tea. She was here when the news was brought to