“Jane Studdock,” said the Fairy. “I know all about you, honey. You’ll be the wife of my friend Mark.”

While she spoke she was writing something on a green form.

“That’s all right,” said Miss Hardcastle. “You’ll be able to see Hubby again now. We’ll take you out to Belbury to-night. Now, just one question, dear. What were you doing down here at this time of night?”

“I had just come off a train.”

“And where had you been, honey?”

Jane said nothing.

“You hadn’t been getting up to mischief while Hubby was away, had you?”

“Will you please let me go,” said Jane. “I want to get home. I am very tired and it’s very late.”

“But you’re not going home,” said Miss Hardcastle.

“You’re coming out to Belbury.”

“My husband has said nothing about my joining him there.”

Miss Hardcastle nodded. “That was one of his mistakes. But you’re coming with us.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s an arrest, honey,” said Miss Hardcastle, holding out the piece of green paper on which she had been writing. It appeared to Jane as all official forms always appeared-a mass of compartments, some empty, some full of small print, some scrawled with signatures in pencil, and one bearing her own name; all meaningless.

“O-oh!” screamed Jane suddenly, overcome with a sensation of nightmare, and made a dash for the door. Of course she never reached it. A moment later she came to her senses and found herself held by the two policewomen.

“What a naughty temper!” said Miss Hardcastle playfully. “But we’ll put the nasty men outside, shall we?” She said something and the policemen removed themselves and shut the door behind them. As soon as they were gone Jane felt that a protection had been withdrawn from her.

“Well,” said Miss Hardcastle, addressing the two uniformed girls. “Let’s see. Quarter to one . . . and all going nicely. I think, Daisy, we can afford ourselves a little stand-easy. Be careful, Kitty, make your top grip under her shoulder just a little tighter. That’s right.” While she was speaking Miss Hardcastle was undoing her belt, and when she had finished she removed her tunic and flung it on the sofa, revealing a huge torso, uncorseted (as Bill the Blizzard had complained), rank, floppy, and thinly clad; such things as Rubens might have painted in delirium. Then she resumed her seat, removed the cheroot from her mouth, blew another cloud of smoke in Jane’s direction, and addressed her.

“Where had you been by that train?” she said. And Jane said nothing; partly because she could not speak, and partly because she now knew beyond all doubt that these were the enemies of the human race whom the Director was fighting against and one must tell them nothing. She did not feel heroic in making this decision. The whole scene was becoming unreal to her: and it was as if between sleeping and waking that she heard Miss Hardcastle say, “I think, Kitty dear, you and Daisy had better bring her round here.” And it was still only half real when the two women forced her round to the other side of the table, and she saw Miss Hardcastle sitting with her legs wide apart and settling herself in the chair as if in the saddle; long leather-clad legs projecting from beneath her short skirt. The women forced her on, with a skilled, quiet increase of pressure whenever she resisted, until she stood between Miss Hardcastle’s feet: whereupon Miss Hardcastle brought her feet together so that she had Jane’s ankles pinioned between her own. This proximity to the ogress affected Jane with such horror that she had no fears left for what they might be going to do with her. And for what seemed an endless time Miss Hardcastle stared at her, smiling a little and blowing smoke in her face.

“Do you know,” said Miss Hardcastle at last, “you’re rather a pretty little thing in your way.”

There was another silence.

“Where had you been by that train?” said Miss Hardcastle.

And Jane stared as if her eyes would start out of her head and said nothing. Then suddenly Miss Hardcastle leant forward and, after very carefully turning down the edge of Jane’s dress, thrust the lighted end of the cheroot against her shoulder. After that there was another pause and another silence.

“Where had you been by that train?” said Miss Hardcastle.

How many times this happened Jane could never remember. But somehow or other there came a time when Miss Hardcastle was talking not to her but to one of the women. “What are you fussing about, Daisy?” she was saying.

“I was only saying, ma’am, it was five past one.”

“How time flies, doesn’t it, Daisy? But what if it is? Aren’t you comfortable, Daisy? You’re not getting tired, holding a little bit of a thing like her?”

“No ma’am, thank you. But you did say, ma’am you’d meet Captain O’Hara at one sharp.”

“Captain O’Hara?” said Miss Hardcastle dreamily at first, and then louder, like one waking from a dream. Next moment she had jumped up and was putting on her tunic. “Bless the girl!” she said, “what a pair of blockheads you are! Why didn’t you remind me before?”

“Well ma’am, I didn’t exactly like to.”

“Like to! What do you think you’re there for?”

“You don’t like us to interrupt, ma’am, sometimes, when you’re examining,” said the girl sulkily.

“Don’t argue!” shouted Miss Hardcastle, wheeling round and hitting her cheek a resounding blow with the palm of her hand. “Look sharp. Get the prisoner into the car. Don’t wait to button up her dress, idiots. I’ll be after you the moment I’ve dipped my face in cold water.”

A few seconds later, pinioned between Daisy and Kitty, but still close to Miss Hardcastle (there seemed to be room for five in the back of the car), Jane found herself gliding through the darkness. “Better go through the town as little as possible, Joe,” said Miss Hardcastle’s voice. “It’ll be pretty lively by now. Go on to the Asylum and work down those little streets at the back of the close.” There seemed to be all sorts of strange noises and lights about. At places, too, there seemed to be a great many people. Then there came a moment when Jane found that the car had drawn up. “What the hell are you stopping for?” said Miss Hardcastle. For a second or two there was no answer from the driver except grunts and the noise of unsuccessful attempts to start up the engine. “What’s the matter” repeated Miss Hardcastle sharply. “Don’t know, ma’am,” said the driver, still working away. “God!” said Miss Hardcastle, “can’t you even look after a car? Some of you people want a little humane remedial treatment yourselves.” The street in which they were was empty but, to judge by the noise, it was near some other street which was very full and very angry. The man got out, swearing under his breath, and opened the bonnet of the car. “Here,” said Miss Hardcastle. “You two hop out. Look round for another car-anywhere within five minutes’ walk-commandeer it. If you don’t find one, be back here in ten minutes, whatever happens. Sharp.” The two other policemen alighted, and disappeared at the double. Miss Hardcastle continued pouring abuse on the driver and the driver continued working at the engine. The noise grew louder. Suddenly the driver straightened himself and turned his face (Jane saw the sweat shining on it in the lamplight) towards Miss Hardcastle. “Look here, miss,” he said, “that’s about enough, see? You keep a civil tongue in your head, or else come and mend the bloody car yourself if you’re so bloody clever.” “Don’t you try taking that line with me, Joe,” said Miss Hardcastle, “or you’ll find me saving a little word about you to the ordinary police.” “Well, suppose you do?” said Joe. “I’m beginning to think I might as well be in clink as in your bucking tea-party. ’struth! I’ve been in the military police and I’ve been in the Black and Tans and I’ve been in the B.U.F . . . but they were all ruddy picnics to this lot. A man got some decent treatment there. And he had men over him, not a bloody lot of old women.” “Yes, Joe,” said Miss Hardcastle, “but it wouldn’t be clink for you this time if I passed the word to the ordinary cops.”