The catch proved to be a small one, which, as Frank observed, was better luck than they had any right to expect. Produced over some excellent coffee, it amounted to this. Besides Deeping St. Nicholas in Lincolnshire, which was a sizable place, and the village in the north of Ledshire where Colonel and Mrs. Abbott lived, there was another Deeping in the south-west corner of the same county.

“As a matter of fact I think we’ve struck it lucky. Deeping St. Nicholas doesn’t fit into the picture, and I think we can leave it out. Also our family Deeping. But I think the other one may be what we’re looking for. I’ve been on to Randal March about it. He says this second Deeping is just on the county border and used to be called Deeping-in-the-Marshes, but after most of the land had been drained they rather dropped the end of the name. It’s just a village, with some big nursery gardens which serve the Ledlington market, and there’s a kind of off-shoot called Deep End which is just over a mile away. There was a big house there, which was bombed during the war. Grounds now a building estate. That might be your ‘Colony.’ March said he’d find out and let me know.”

Miss Silver beamed.

“It might indeed. Is your coffee sweet enough?… Whilst you are drinking it I will tell you about my interview with Mrs. Dugdale’s parlourmaid.”

Frank Abbott leaned back in one of the wide-lapped chairs and listened whilst with meticulous accuracy she repeated the account which Agnes had given of Anna Ball’s conversation on the telephone. When she had finished he said,

“And you think she can be depended upon?”

“Oh, yes-an old-fashioned type, conscientious and accurate.”

“A pity she didn’t get the employer’s name.”

Miss Silver said regretfully,

“The only person who seems to have heard it is Mrs. Dugdale, and she, I fear, can hardly be described as either accurate or conscientious. One of those vague, straying minds, and too much occupied with herself to give any but the most passing attention to the affairs of others.”

“Did you get anything out of her at all? Hobson couldn’t.”

Miss Silver handed him a half sheet of paper.

“She showed no reluctance to talk, but produced all these names one after the other, beginning with the remark that it wasn’t Cadbury.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Had you suggested that it might be Cadbury?”

“I had made no suggestion of any kind.”

He read aloud from the paper.

“Cadbury-Bostock-Cadell-Carrington- Chelmsford – Ruddock-Radford-” He gave her an enquiring look. “Well?”

“What do you make of it?”

“Not very much, I’m afraid, except-” he went back to the list-“Cadbury, Cadell, Carrington, Chelmsford -there are rather a lot of C’s. Anything else? Let me see-Bostock, Ruddock-those are both unusual names. Cadbury, Cadell, Carrington, Radford-a definite similarity about the first syllables.”

“That is what occurred to me. I could not help the feeling that all these names were suggested by the one which she had heard but had not troubled herself to remember.”

“You think it began with a C?”

“I think it possible that it did. And that it ended in ford or ock. Probably the latter, since Bostock and Ruddock are both uncommon names and not very likely to occur unless there had been some strong association, whereas ford is an extremely common suffix.”

He looked at her with a quizzical smile.

“And what does that suggest to you?”

“It suggests that one of these names may really be the name of Anna Ball’s employer. I do not think so, but it is possible. Or that if we are to look for another name, it may be Craddock.”

“And how do you arrive at that-no, let’s see-ad three times -ock twice-a sprinkling of r‘s and a lot of c’s-it might be. Or”-the smile became definitely provocative-“perhaps you are just being a great deal more ingenious than Mrs. Dugdale. That kind of mind is capable of almost any degree of irrelevance, and the name may turn out to be plain Smith or Jones.”

She looked across her deep blue knitting.

“That is quite possible. Meanwhile perhaps you would make some enquiries about the Deeping in Ledshire, and its offshoot Deep End. I think we may leave Deeping St. Nicholas on one side. But Deep End with its new building estate would fit the case. What we have to look for is someone with three children who is known to have engaged a governess or a nursery-governess between four and five months ago. The one thing that Mrs. Dugdale seems to remember about Miss Ball’s prospective employer is that her voice was so deep she thought at first that it was a man who was speaking. It may really have been a man. If she had no help the mother might have been unable to leave her children. I suggest that enquiries should be made at Deep End. It would be known whether the building estate was commonly alluded to as The Colony. It would be known whether there was a family such as I have described, and whether the name has any resemblance to those we have considered. If this is so, you will agree that some enquiry should be made with regard to Miss Ball. If she took up the post for which she appears to have been in treaty, it would be known. She may be still there, or she may have left, in which case Mrs. Craddock may have her address.”

Frank Abbott laughed.

“Craddock?”

Miss Silver coughed.

“Or Smith, or Jones, or Robinson.”

CHAPTER VII

Frank Abbott called up next day.

“Look here, I caught the Chief in a melting mood, and he says I can run down and make some enquiries; The usual trimmings about mare’s nests and what not, but all in good part. So expect me to-morrow on my way back. Will it matter if I’m late?… All right then-we’ll say any time up to midnight.”

It was not nearly so late as that when Hannah let him in. As she opened the sitting-room door, her voice could be heard telling him that his sandwiches were waiting, and that the coffee wouldn’t be a moment.

Miss Silver smiled.

“Hannah is always sure you must be starved when you go out of town.”

“Well, I did have some ghastly kind of a meal, but I’m trying to forget about it.” He pulled a chair in to the fire and spread out his hands to the glow. “Brr-it’s cold! And I’ve had my journey for-well, not quite nothing, but about as near as makes no difference.”

He thought, not for the first time, how comfortable and restful the room was, with its out-of-date furniture and its reminders of an age untroubled by the aeroplane and the bomb. Security- that is what the Victorians had, and what perhaps they paid too high a price for. They had slums and child labour, and culture was only for the few, but at least their children were not dragged from their beds to take refuge in underground shelters, and their slums were not blasted into rubble. There were times when the blessings of education appeared a little over-rated, since it seemed only to enable the nations to quarrel with greater fluency in some modern Tower of Babel.

Miss Silver, smiling at him from the other side of the hearth, her hands busy with her knitting, remained a stable point in an unsettled world. Love God, honour the Queen; keep the law; be kind, be good; think of others before you think of yourself; serve Justice; speak the truth-by this simple creed she lived. Si sic omnes!…

His sense of humour tripped him up. Miss Silver at the council board-at the Admiralty, the War Office, the Air Ministry. An infinite procession of Miss Silvers running everything everywhere. John Knox’s Monstrous Regiment of Women. No, no, it wouldn’t do. There was only one Maudie-let her remain unique.

Hannah came in with the coffee, poured him out his first cup, fussed over him with sandwiches, and departed. Then, and not till then, Miss Silver said,