Gus sighed and started to walk back into Kathleen’s room. “Come on out, precious,” she said. “It’s all right. Gus is going to take care of you, no matter what.”
And she knelt down beside the bed. “I’ll get her ready to come down when you say,” she said quietly.
I hugged her. “Thank you. Let us hope for a miracle, shall we?”
I went back down and chose my position with care among the trees. One by one the family emerged from the house.
“What on earth can he be doing now?” Joseph was blustering to Father Patrick. “They’ve already searched our rooms once. What more do they think we are hiding?”
“At least tea is ready and waiting for us,” Father Patrick said. “And my favorite little cakes too. You see, there is a good side to everything.”
“You have to say that because you’re a damned priest,” Joseph snapped. “You always were a holier than thou little prig, weren’t you?”
They took seats on the lawn. I waited among the trees, hardly daring to breathe. At last the rest of the family was there.
“Why have the chairs been moved here today?” Irene demanded. “This is too close to the ocean. Too breezy for me. Archie, have the servants move them back where they usually are.”
“That annoying police fellow had them put here, I suppose,” Archie said. “I can’t wait to go home, back to a normal life. Why are we still here—we know what happened now and the poor child isn’t responsible for her actions.”
Among the trees I saw a movement. Gus and Kathleen had arrived. I signaled and waited. A few minutes later I saw a flash of white skirts as they came toward me through the undergrowth. As they stepped out onto the lawn, Kathleen caught sight of the people sitting there and gave a little scream of horror, and at the same moment I stood up from behind a bush, holding the painting up in front of me.
I couldn’t see what was happening, but suddenly terrified screams filled the air. I came forward with the painting. Kathleen grabbed Gus, trying desperately to drag her away.
The family had all risen to their feet.
“What on earth’s she doing down here?” Archie demanded. “Who brought her out? Can’t you see how it will upset her mother to see her like this? Take her back immediately.”
“The poor child. Why are you trying to frighten her in this way?” Father Patrick said gently, going toward her.
Gus stopped him, shielding the child.
I dropped the painting and ran toward them. Kathleen was cowering behind Gus as Father Patrick came toward her. With one hand she clawed at Gus’s sleeve, with the other she flailed at the air as if warding off an attack. “No, no!” she shouted. “No boo Coween.”
“It’s all right, child. Nobody is going to hurt you.” He reached out his hand as if to touch her gently. “She should never have been let out. Let’s take her back to safety. Can’t you see how distressed she is?”
I put myself between him and Kathleen. “She’s distressed because she recognizes you and she remembers now that you killed her sister,” I said.
“What utter nonsense. The child’s babbling the gibberish of a diseased mind.”
“Miss Walcott has made remarkable strides in understanding her speech, which is the language of twins, the language she used to speak to Colleen.” I knew I was stretching the truth; conscious of the family members closing in on us, I addressed them as much as Father Patrick.
“You accuse me of killing her sister?” he said, his normally gentle voice now high and taut. “I adored Colleen. We all did.”
“Did you love the other little girls you killed?” I asked. “Those little girls in Granville and Cambridge?” I looked around the faces of those who were frozen in a group around us, staring with a mixture of horror and fascination. “That was why your brother summoned us all here, wasn’t it? Because he had finally figured out the truth.”
“Your mind is as diseased as this child’s,” Patrick Hannan said. “I don’t know exactly who you are but your meddling is causing this family great distress.” He glanced up at the policemen who were now making their way across the lawn toward us. “Officers, this woman is mad. Please remove her.”
“It’s no use, Father Patrick,” I said. “I went to Brian Hannan’s office, you see, and I saw what he had written. He had figured out for himself why your bishop moved you from parish to parish so frequently.” I stared at him defiantly. “That’s why you had to kill your brother, wasn’t it? You had to kill him before he revealed what he had found out to the rest of the family and had you put away.”
“He told me he’d spoken to my bishop,” Patrick said, “When he said he was calling the family together to decide what to do with me, I had to stop him. We’d used that cyanide on a wasps’ nest last summer. I met him and told him I wanted to talk privately first. And I offered him a drink.”