CHAPTER EIGHTEENMiss Silver arrived by the train which had brought Stacy to Ledstow three days before. Charles Forrest, on the platform, saw her alight with incredulity. There was no one else who could possibly be the person he had come to meet, but he found Miss Silver incredible. That is to say, incredible in this year of grace, upon Ledstow platform, coming down to investigate Lewis Brading’s death. In his nursery days the moral maxim, “A place for everything, and everything in its place”, had been all too frequently instilled. Miss Silver’s place was in a photograph album of about forty years ago. The rather flat, crushed-looking hat was the spit and image of one worn by Lewis’s mother in a wedding group of that date. It was of black straw with some ribbon bows at the back and a small
