Chapter SeventeenRachel answered both questions as briefly as possible. She told her about Neusel finding the adders in her bed, and thought how long ago it seemed. Then she told her about being pushed over the cliff.
Except for a single ‘My dear Miss Treherne!’ Miss Silver listened in complete silence. She had ceased to knit. Her hands rested idle on the pale blue wool, and her eyes never left Rachel’s face. At the end she said quickly,
‘You are not hurt?’
‘No—only bruised.’
‘You have been providentially preserved. May I ask you one or two questions? This visit to your old nurse—how many people knew of it?’
Rachel lifted the hand on her knee and let it fall again.
‘Everyone. You see, I go every week.’
‘And this Mr Brandon—did he know?’
Rachel felt her colour rise.
‘Yes, he knew.
