“How?”

“I don’t know-”

“He looked as if he suspected you?”

Anger came up in her again.

“I tell you I don’t know! If you go on asking me for ever, still I don’t know! But I say this is not a good time to make any move. That girl did something. I don’t know just what she did, but I could feel that she had done something to Philip’s mind. I can feel it focussed on me again like it was at the beginning. There-you wanted the truth, and you’ve got it! Is this the time to start anything? I leave it to you.”

He said, “No-perhaps not. Why did you not tell me this at first? You wait until I drag it out of you. You say it is one of those little things-” he repeated the words-“one of those little things. You really think that, I suppose? You expect me to believe that to you it is a little thing? You hold it back for as long as you can, and then you only say it because you think it will turn me from what I have told you to do. And now I will tell you why you are using everything you have got to turn me. You find yourself very comfortable as Lady Jocelyn-you have a position, you have a great deal of money, and you have a husband who is a very rising young man. You have, in fact, got all you want. You have, in fact, no further incentive-you would like to sit back and enjoy these things. I would ask you to remember that you have not finished earning them. Those who provided you with these good things can also take them away. There is no more to be said. Now you will listen to me. You will hear no more from the police. They are now convinced that Nellie Collins met, as you have said, with an unfortunate accident. A woman who lives at Ruislip has come forward to say that she has known her for years, and that she has often invited her to come and see her. This is very satisfactory, as you will agree. The police will now be satisfied that anything Nellie Collins may have said in the train was just the result of a desire to be in the limelight, and that she was really going to see this friend of hers at Ruislip.”

She looked at him, and saw no more than a dark bulky shape, a shock of hair, the just discernible gleam from the tinted glasses. Her voice slowed down as she said,

“Do you think so?” And then, “You arranged it, I suppose.”

He said, as he had said before,

“That is not your business. Here are your orders. You will take the impression of the key as I told you. But you will not risk taking photographs unless you find the code. That must be copied or photographed-but if he has any suspicions, you will not find it. Where have you put the diary?”

“It’s safely hidden.”

“You had better put it in your bank.”

“No-I must have it.”

He did not press the point. Instead he said curtly,

“You have your orders. See you carry them out!”

There was a pause before she said,

“I can’t do it.”

CHAPTER 26

She came out of the heated shop into cold, bright air. The dropping sun looked between two black clouds and washed the whole length of the street with gold. As she walked quickly away, it seemed to her that the path before her was all lit up. Her spirits were strangely high. She had held her own, and now that it was done it seemed an easy thing to do. She wondered that she had been so much afraid-that she had submitted to so much. After all, what could he do? To expose her would be to expose himself. Threats were a game that two could play. She had let him see that, and he had been quick to moderate his tone. She had come away without any orders on his side or any undertaking on hers. She had fought her battle and won it She had shown them that she was not to be used just as a tool. What she did she would do in her own time and in her own way-if she did anything at all. That would depend on Philip. Why, they must think her a fool to risk throwing away all that had been gained. She wasn’t that kind of fool, or any other. When you got what you had wanted all your life you didn’t risk it, you held it close. What she could do safely she would do. If there were a very good chance tonight, she might even get Mr. Felix his wax impression, but if she did it, it would be because she chose, and not under any orders of his.

At the corner she turned. She lost the sun, but not her lighted mood. A half-formed thought emerged and took the light. Contemplating this thought, the outline of a plan began to form. Her pace slackened. She walked slowly, her attention all turned inwards. The darkening street, the cold, thin wind which slanted across it, were no longer there. She looked at the plan, and coveted it as she might have coveted a diamond necklace or a high-powered car. Like these, it was beyond her reach. But was it-was it? If she was a tool, it wouldn’t be the first time a tool had turned in the hand that used it. She began to consider very carefully whether the plan could be used. There would be some risk of course, but she stood in danger all the time. It would be worth some risk to get free and be safe. For a moment her heart sickened. Safety seemed so desperately far away.

Then she went on. In the end she temporized. Leaham Street was not so far away. She had looked it up on the tape-map before she came out. She would go and have a look at Montague Mansions. No need to make up her mind whether she would go in or not. There was, perhaps, at the back of her thought some undefined idea that something might come along to point the way. She began to walk briskly in the direction of Leaham Street.

Miss Silver sat knitting by the fire. She had finished Johnny’s second stocking and had begun a pair of socks for little Roger. Johnny’s other two pair of stockings could wait until she had knitted up this very nice wool. There was not enough of it for stockings, but it would come in very well indeed for little Roger’s socks and be a great help to Ethel, who really had not time to knit for her family. Three boys and a husband to cook, and clean, and wash, and mend for-three afternoons at a canteen-were enough and to spare for one pair of hands.

As she knitted she went over in her mind her last conversation with Frank Abbott. Recollection of it made her shake her head. Chief Inspector Lamb was no doubt an experienced officer and a very estimable man, but that was not to say that she could always agree with his conclusions. By no means- oh dear me, no! In this particular instance she did not agree with them at all. She had told Frank Abbott so. But of course it was not her business-she was not professionally engaged upon the case. If the Chief Inspector was satisfied, there was no more to be said. He was, of course, a Man. Miss Silver had no dislike for the male sex. In their proper place they could be very useful indeed. She admired all their good qualities, and regarded their failings with indulgence. But occasionally she reflected, as she was doing now, that they were too much inclined to believe in their own opinions, and too much convinced that these opinions must be right. If Chief Inspector Lamb could believe that poor Miss Collins had merely met with a very sad accident whilst on her way to visit her old friend Mrs. Williams of Ruislip-if he could believe that she had missed her way and wandered into the dark lane where she was found, it was more than she herself could do. She did not care how respectable a person Mrs. Williams seemed to be, she did not for a moment believe that Miss Collins had had any intention of going to see her. She might have known Mrs. Williams, or she might not-upon this point Miss Silver kept an open mind. But on that Monday afternoon she had been going up to town with the intention of meeting Lady Jocelyn under the clock at Waterloo at a quarter to four. If it was not Lady Jocelyn whom she met there, it was someone who knew of the appointment and kept it in Lady Jocelyn’s place. Lady Jocelyn, it seemed, could not have kept it herself-the Chief Inspector expressed himself quite satisfied as to that. Miss Silver primmed her lips. She considered that he was too easily satisfied.