“She had a twin.”
“Ah, that explains it then. I saw her a few times and once she was smiley and friendly and then the next time she was silent and shrank behind her nurse. So they were twins. How interesting.”
“But you never heard the details of her death?”
“No, I can’t say that I did. As I said, this household was not on social terms with the Hannan family.” She looked around as Gus sat on the other side of the table. “Is there anything else I can get you, Miss Augusta.”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Sweeney. This all looks splendid,” Gus said.
The housekeeper gave a little half-bow, half-nod and went.
Gus gave me an exasperated look. “We did tell her that we don’t like a big breakfast, but I don’t think it sank in. Now, what is so important that it needs to be discussed at this ungodly hour, Molly?”
I told them exactly what had happened to me—the white figure in the night, my climb to the tower, and what I had discovered there.
“How frightfully thrilling,” Sid said. “A hidden child who murdered her twin. How terribly gothic.”
“Sid, it’s not a subject for amusement,” Gus gave her a disapproving frown. “You can see that Molly is distressed.”
“I am most concerned about it,” I said. “The housekeeper is terrified that the girl will be sent back to an insane asylum when it’s discovered she’s in the house. And she’s sure they’ll think she murdered her grandfather.”
“Because she pushed her sister over a cliff at the age of four?” Sid said. “What child has not wanted to get rid of an adored sibling? I know I often wished I could make my brother disappear. Has she demonstrated more murderous tendencies since?”
“She has only been with the housekeeper and seen her grandfather occasionally,” I said. “She seemed a docile, timid little thing to me.”
“Then why would the family want to pin the crime on her?” Sid persisted.
“Because she makes a perfect scapegoat. And the family would rather think that she was the culprit rather than one of them.”
“What a charming family,” Gus remarked as she reached for the marmalade. “To know there might be a murderer in their midst and yet to let a child take the blame for it.”
“This is only what Mrs. McCreedy fears,” I corrected hastily. “She may be quite wrong, of course. They may want to do the right thing and find the true culprit. Although from what I witnessed of them, they were most anxious to find a mysterious outsider and thus exonerate themselves.”
“Only natural,” Sid said. “Nobody wants to believe there is a black sheep in their own family, especially not a murderer.”
“So you can see my dilemma.” I looked first at Gus and then at Sid. “I should tell Daniel about the girl, and he would undoubtedly want me to report it to the police. Then the family will know and it will all be over for Kathleen.”
“But how do you know whether she is guilty or not?” Sid asked. “You say she can escape from her tower at will. Who is to say she didn’t give her grandfather a timely push.”
“That much I could believe, but not the part with the cyanide. Think about it, Sid—to find a jar containing cyanide in a shed, be able to read the label, know what it is, and slip some into his glass of whiskey—no, I can’t go along with that. She’s still a little child, Sid. She sits hugging her doll and talking to it in gibberish.”
“Did you say she calls the doll by her sister’s name?” Gus looked up suddenly.
“She does.”
“Then she’s probably speaking to it in the language of twins.”
“Is there such a thing?” I asked.
Gus nodded. “Oh, yes. I went to a lecture about it recently. It appears that twins frequently communicate with each other in a secret language known only to themselves. You say it was gibberish but I expect her language has its own vocabulary and syntax known only to her twin.”
“Fascinating,” I said. “But I don’t know how one would unlock the key, when she doesn’t speak apart from that.”
“It would take a specialist,” Sid said.
“I was thinking of asking Dr. Birnbaum to see her,” I said. “He is the expert on diseases of the mind, isn’t he?”
“And what would you hope he’d accomplish?” Sid asked. “To have her proved sane? If she’s sane, then she knew what she did and she’s evil. If she’s not sane, then she’s not responsible. So think carefully before you tread, Molly.”
“I know. It’s such a great dilemma. I don’t know what to do.”
“I don’t wish to sound callous,” Sid said. “But this really isn’t your problem, Molly. Haven’t you enough to worry about with your husband’s grave illness? Surely your first duty is to him.”