Chapter Thirty-twoIn real life there is no ringing down the curtain between the acts. There are moments when such an interval would be more than welcome, but there is, there can be, no such relief. Beds must be made, meals must be prepared, and however reluctantly, some effort must be made to partake of them. Miss Silver’s invariable common sense imposed this point of view. Rooms were aired and tidied, coffee was made and a meal produced. By the time that Stephen Eversley arrived everyone was steadier.
It was Miss Silver who told him what had happened. She showed him Candida’s note and asked him if he could identify the writing, only to hear that he had never seen it.
‘We met practically every day.’ He spoke with stiff lips, his face grey and rigid as he remembered those meetings. ‘We ne
