Vera said:
"They were only natives..."
Emily Brent said sharply:
"Black or white, they are our brothers."Vera thought:
"Our black brothers - our black brothers. Oh, I'm going to laugh. I'm hysterical. I'm not myself..."Emily Brent continued thoughtfully:
"Of course, some of the other accusations were very far-fetched and ridiculous. Against the judge, for instance, who was only doing his duty in his public capacity, And the ex-Scotland Yard man. My own case, too."She paused and then went on:
"Naturally, considering the circumstances, I was not going to say anything last night. It was not a fit subject to discuss before gentlemen.""No?"
Vera listened with interest. Miss Brent continued serenely:"Beatrice Taylor was in service with me. Not a nice girl - as I found out too late. I was very much deceived in her. She had nice manners and was very clean and willing. I was very pleased with her. Of course all that was the sheerest hypocrisy! She was a loose girl with no morals. Disgusting! It was some time before I found out that she was what they call 'in trouble.'" She paused, her delicate nose wrinkling itself in distaste. "It was a great shock to me. Her parents were decent folk, too, who had brought her up very strictly. I'm glad to say they did not condone her behaviour."Vera said, staring at Miss Brent:
"What happened?"
"Naturally I did not keep her an hour under my roof. No one shall ever say that I condoned immorality."Vera said in a lower voice:
"What happened - to her?"
Miss Brent said:
"The abandoned creature, not content with having one sin on her conscience, committed a still graver sin. She took her own life."Vera whispered, horror-struck:
"She killed herself?"
"Yes, she threw herself into the river."Vera shivered.
She stared at the calm delicate profile of Miss Brent. She said:"What did you feel like when you knew she'd done that? Weren't you sorry? Didn't you blame yourself?"Emily Brent drew herself up.
"I? I had nothing with which to reproach myself."Vera said:
"But if your - hardness - drove her to it"Emily Brent said sharply:
"Her own action - her own sin - that was what drove her to it. If she had behaved like a decent modest young woman none of this would have happened."She turned her face to Vera. There was no self-reproach, no uneasiness in those eyes. They were hard and self-righteous. Emily Brent sat on the summit of Indian Island, encased in her own armour of virtue.The little elderly spinster was no longer slightly ridiculous to Vera.Suddenly - she was terrible.
II
Dr. Armstrong came out of the dining-room and once more came out on the terrace.The judge was sitting in a chair now, gazing placidly out to sea.Lombard and Blore were over to the left, smoking but not talking.As before, the doctor hesitated for a moment His eye rested speculatively on Mr. Justice Wargrave. He wanted to consult with some one. He was conscious of the judge's acute logical brain. But nevertheless he wavered. Mr. Justice Wargrave might have a good brain but he was an elderly man. At this juncture, Armstrong felt what was needed was a man of action.He made up his mind.
"Lombard, can I speak to you for a minute?"Philip started.
"Of course."
The two men left the terrace. They strolled down the slope towards the water. When they were out of earshot, Armstrong said:"I want a consultation."
Lombard's eyebrows went up. He said:
"My dear fellow, I've no medical knowledge.""No, no, I mean as to the general situation.""Oh, that's different."
