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Annie Sheppard nodded, looking at him with red eyes. He felt a stab of pity course through him, and sipped his tea as he waited for her tears to pass.
“When was the last time you saw her?” he asked.
“On Sunday afternoon, just after church. Mary and Molly Archer had a fearful row outside the church, and I followed Mary home. We said good bye outside her fathers shop and I came back here. She was so upset the poor dear…”
“Why was she arguing with Molly Archer?” de Hogue asked.
Annie Sheppard lifted her head and met his eyes. “There are some things between friends which are best not mentioned to others, but in the circumstances, I shall tell you.”
She turned to her brother, and swore him to secrecy. He mumbled his assent, but his face had darkened and he turned to stare out of the window, across the sea to where the distant island of Sheppey sat dimly in the Medway estuary.
“Mary was with child” Annie Sheppard said in a quiet voice, “she had known of it for the last few weeks.”
“By Nicholas Sedgwick?” de Hogue asked.
She stared at him with wide eyes and then nodded once.
By the window, John Sheppard swore horribly and abruptly left the house, slamming the door behind him. Startled, de Hogue rose to his feet, but Annie Sheppard’s hand on his arm had stopped him.
“Let him go Sir.” She pleaded. “He didn’t know, and he was always fond of Mary.”
He glanced out of the window, and saw John Sheppard standing by the sea, staring away into the distance, his shoulders visibly shaking. With some discomfort de Hogue sat down again.
“So why was she arguing with Molly Archer?” he asked after a few seconds.
“Molly has always been in love with Nicholas Sedgwick, and when she found out that Nicholas and Mary had been meeting in secret, she was extremely angry. I don’t know when she found out, but she confronted Mary after church and she accused Mary of breaking her heart by her betrayal.”
“So Molly had cause to see Mary dead?”
Annie Sheppard shook her head in candid surprise. “Oh no. There was no way that Molly could do such a thing. I can’t believe it for a second!”
“She didn’t make any threats?” de Hogue asked.
“Quite the opposite. Molly seemed to be quite scared of Mary, though I don’t know why. They way she fell silent when Mary told her to mind her own business was quite apparent. It was almost as if Molly was the one who was scared.”
For a few moments they sat in silence, then de Hogue got up under the pretence of stretching his legs. John Sheppard had moved from view, but in fact he had fallen down to sit in the sand and pebbles, his head in his hands, disregarding the rain.
“What about Nicholas Sedgwick? When was the last time you saw him?”
“Oh, I really don’t know, a good while back.”
“He wasn’t at church?” de Hogue moved across the room to examine the sabre.
“No.” She shook her head sadly. “Nicholas isn’t a church regular I’m afraid. Most of the time he is a bit of a reclusive character. He sits up on the hills with his sketch book, minding the sheep and singing, and he rarely comes down to the village. He has the most beautiful voice you know.”
“Really?” de Hogue indicated the sabre, “May I?”
“Yes of course. Would you like some more tea perhaps?”
He replied no, and thanked her, and she removed the cups and saucers, glancing out the window to her brother as she did, he took down the weapon and unsheathed it. The blade was old, and had obviously seen a lot of action. Age had pitted its sides slightly, and there were a few rusty stains along its length, but nothing a good cleaning might not solve.There was no sign of any blood though, and no indication that the blade had recently been cleaned either. He re-sheathed it and hung it back on the wall. It was time to return to the others he realised, he had already been gone to long…