Jimmy said, “Yes-she’s Miriam Richardson. She’s staying with Mrs. Merridew. I came down to see her.” He spoke blankly. Miriam was dead. It was a deliverance, but he hadn’t got as far as thinking of that. He hadn’t got any farther than the fact that she was dead. That one terrible fact killed everything else-Miriam was dead.

Mr. Fulbrook straightened himself and took Jimmy by the arm.

“You know her then?”

Jimmy answered him, still in that blind, bewildered way.

“Yes. I came here to meet her. But she was dead.”

“And you are?…”

“I am Jimmy Mottingley.”

It didn’t seem real-not in any way. It was like questions and answers in a dream. The whole thing was like a dream.

Mr. Fulbrook said, “How did you get here? Is that your car up the road?”

“Yes, it is.” For the first time the thought came to him. He could have got away. But it was too late now. He had had his chance and lost it.

Mr. Fulbrook took him by the arm.

“Well then, come along. I’ll leave my bike here, and you can come with me to the police station.”

Jimmy stared blankly.

“The police station?”

“That’s what I said. They’re the people to see into this, and you found her. Come along now!”

Chapter XXII

The news came to the cottages at the edge of the Heath nearly three quarters of an hour later. Mrs. Merridew had been home nearly half an hour. She had been in to Miss Danesworth twice to say that Miriam wasn’t in, and what did they think had happened to her. She was just prepared to go in for the third time, when there was a loud rat-tat on her front door, and when she opened it there was Mr. Dobbs the policeman with a very grave face, and he was telling her, only she simply couldn’t believe it, that Miriam had been murdered up on the Heath. She didn’t believe it, but hearing it made her feel queer. She held on to the back of the nearest chair and stammered,

“W-what’s this? I d-don’t believe a word of it. Y-you’re making it up. M-Miriam-”

“It’s a shock,” said Dobbs in his slow voice. “Bound to be when you didn’t expect it. But it’s true.”

Mrs. Merridew sat down on the sofa and burst out crying. It took Dobbs quite a while to get anything coherent out of her, but in the end she pulled herself together and went with him to the police station, where she identified the body and Jimmy Mottingley.

“Yes, he was a friend of hers. I didn’t know that he was coming to see her. She never said a word about it. I suppose they had a quarrel-”

“No-no!” gasped Jimmy. “I never saw her. She was lying there dead!”

“Nonsense!” said Mrs. Merridew. “No one would hurt her here. And what was she doing up on the Heath-you tell me that, young man!”

“She’d gone there to meet me. But when I came to the place she was dead. I never touched her. She was lying there dead, I tell you. I had nothing to do with it!”

Mrs. Merridew laughed. The laugh shocked Mr. Dobbs extremely. He said in his most repressive tones, “Now, now, Mrs. Merridew-” but all he got by that was that she did it again louder and more scornfully.

“You had nothing to do with it? That’s what you say! The girl goes to meet you and she’s found murdered, and you have nothing to do with it? Of course not!”

Mr. Dobbs acted with decision. This wasn’t no way to go on-no way at all. He said so, and he got Mrs. Merridew out of the room and told her to go along home. Then he went back to his office, where he found Jimmy Mottingley crying like a schoolboy. When he saw Dobbs he turned round on him.

“That’s what they’ll all say, won’t they? They’ll say I did it! And I didn’t-I didn’t! I swear I never touched her!”

“That’s not for me to say. I’ve rung up Headingley, and the Chief Constable will be over. You’d better just think what you’re going to say for yourself.”

Jimmy rolled his wet handkerchief between his fingers.

“There’s nothing I can say,” he said in a hopeless tone.

Mrs. Merridew went along the dark road. The anger which had supported her died slowly. She began to take note of every movement, every breath in the darkness. It wasn’t quite dark either. She began to think it would have been better if it had been. She had only a very little way to go, but murder can be done in the least possible space. Dobbs had no business to fetch her down here and leave her to come home alone.

She came to the last house but one, and felt suddenly that she could not go any farther. She stopped at the wicket gate and went in. They were having supper. Richard had not been home very long. He had come back with an eager feeling. As he drove along the lane he was conscious of suppressed excitement. In half an hour-in twenty minutes-in ten minutes-now-he was going to see Jenny again! And when he came to the cottage and put the car away, it was now-now-now that he was going to see her.

But Jenny was cold. She didn’t respond. He mustn’t startle her. He must go slowly. He helped to carry soup from the kitchen. Caroline was a dab at soup. He told her so. And then as he was clearing away the plates, there came that exasperating tap on the door, followed immediately by the entrance of Mrs. Merridew, her eyes reddened and her hat on one side.

In a moment all was confusion. Mrs. Merridew subsided upon a chair. She wept, and all the time discoursed in a high shaken voice.

“I never liked him or-or trusted him. I said so to Miriam-but she wouldn’t listen. Young people never do listen-until it’s too late. And what’s the good of it then, I ask you-what’s the good of anything when you’re dead?” She began to sob very loudly. “I said to Miriam, ‘Be careful what you’re doing,’ and she only laughed and said, ‘He’s nothing but a boy.’ And I told her then-three months ago when she was staying here I told her. She said he was only a boy, and no harm in him, and I told her, ‘That’s what you think,’ I said.”

Caroline Danesworth was appalled, but competent. She told Richard to get Jenny away, and when they had gone she ministered to Mrs. Merridew. It was some time before she discovered what had happened. She hadn’t liked Miriam Richardson, but it was too shocking to think that it was from her house that she had gone to her death. It really didn’t seem possible. She said so.

“But she was here! She came in to see Richard, but he was out and she couldn’t wait. It was dark when she went. She said she couldn’t stay.”

Mrs. Merridew sat up and dabbed at her eyes.

“That was because she had an appointment with this murdering wretch.”

“You knew of it?”

“Of course I didn’t know of it! I shouldn’t have allowed it to happen if I had known-the wicked murdering creature!”

In the next room Richard stood by the window and looked at Jenny. She was trembling a little. He didn’t see how he could bear it. There were things you could bear, and things that you couldn’t. He came across the room to her and knelt down. She was sitting on the sofa, looking down at her hands which were shaking a little. When Richard touched her she looked up. Her eyes were big with unshed tears. Her hands clasped each other tightly, as if she needed something to hold on to.

He said, “Jenny-” in a moved voice, and she spoke in a trembling way.

“She was here. She couldn’t wait. She said so. She wanted to see you, and you weren’t here.”

“Jenny-darling-”

The tears overflowed and rolled down her cheeks. He couldn’t stand it any longer. He put his arms right round her and held her close.