She Came Back by Patricia Wentworth

embarrassed person there. Scenes were the devil, and family scenes were the devil with knobs on. He thought the world of Philip, and he wanted him and everyone else to be as happy as he and Lilla were.
    The silence was broken by Emmeline. Her husband’s remarks had surprised her very much. It wasn’t at all like Thomas to—well, to take charge like that. And he had interrupted her just as she was about to take charge herself, a thing she felt very well qualified to do—much better qualified than Thomas. She said now in her most decided voice,
    “There were several things that I was going to say when your uncle interrupted me. We’ve got to be practical. Handwriting first of all—what about that?”
    This time it was Mr. Codrington who replied.
    “Certainly, Mrs. Jocelyn. But of course it was a point which suggested itself at once. Neither Philip, nor myself, nor Mrs. Armitage can detect any difference between old signatures of Anne’s and signatures which we have seen written in the last few days.” As he spoke he opened the attaché case in front of him, took out some folded sheets, and passed them to Thomas Jocelyn. “I think everyone should look at these. Some of them are new, and some of them are old. The new ones have been purposely creased and handled. If anyone can pick them out, he or she is cleverer than I am.”
    Mr. Jocelyn took his time. Presently he shook his head and let his wife have the papers.
    “I might hazard a guess on the colour of the ink, but certainly not on the writing.”
    Emmeline took her time too. There was one whole letter which began “Dear Mr. Codrington,” and ended “Yours very sincerely, Anne Jocelyn.” In between, a few lines thanking him for the despatch of some papers unspecified.
    She took up the next sheet. Three or four lines to conclude another letter. The weather was very damp—she did hope it would clear soon. And once more she was his very sincerely.
    There were two more letters, one asking for a copy of her will, and the other thanking him for having sent it.
    Emmeline began to say, “I suppose—” then checked herself and passed the letters to Milly Armitage, who had seen them before and pushed them over the table to Inez Jocelyn. She made a great rustling with them, snatching them up, only to discard one, pick it up again, and finally arrange the four sheets like a hand at cards.
    “Of course the two about her will must have been written before she went to France. Not a very good choice, if I may say so. She could hardly have been making a will since her return—could she?” That very unpleasant laugh of hers rang out. “I thought of that at once. You can’t expect us to think of nothing but the writing, you know. The subject-matter is evidence too, Mr. Codrington.” With a toss of the platinum curls she relinquished the letters to Perry, who shook his head over them and said they all looked alike to him.
    As Mr. Codrington resumed possession of them he said drily,
    “The two letters about the will were written a couple of days ago to my dictation.”
    Mrs. Thomas Jocelyn allowed herself to smile. Then she addressed Philip.
    “Well, we had to get that out of the way. What I want to ask you now is about the night you went over to France. I want to know how those two girls were dressed. Because unless their clothes were alike, I don’t see how you could have taken one for the other.”
    “I’m afraid I didn’t notice very much. It was dark. They were the sort of things girls wear—the sort of things you don’t notice—a tweed skirt and a jumper. Afterwards, I suppose, they had coats on.”
    “Was Anne wearing her fur coat?”
    “I don’t know—I didn’t notice.”
    Anne said quick and low, “Yes, I was wearing it. I’ve got it—I came home in it.”
    Emmeline said, “Oh—” And then, “It was a very valuable coat—mink, if I remember. Milly would know if it was Anne’s coat. Is it, Milly?”
    “There isn’t any doubt about that,”