At the other end of the line Edward said,

“Nothing doing, I’m afraid. I’m too busy, and I’m going to go on being busy for quite a long time.”

“Darling, that’s awfully sweet of you-to put it that way, I mean. But we’ve simply got to meet-haven’t we? I mean, Lord Burlingham can’t expect you to work all day and all night, can he? Would you like me to tell him so? He used to be rather sweet to me, you know.”

No one had ever called Edward Random dull. He could see as far through a brick wall as anybody else, and through this particular wall he became vividly aware that Clarice was ringing up on the Miss Blakes’ telephone, and that Miss Ora and Miss Mildred were almost certainly listening with all their ears and being suitably impressed with the idea that she was on the most affectionate terms with him. He became first angry, and then maliciously amused. All right, if she asked for it she could have it. He had meant to put in a good three hours’ work on the estate accounts, but they could wait, and, as Clarice had just remarked, you can’t work all day and all night. He said,

“Not on your life! But hold on-wait a minute, will you? I’ll just see what can be done.”

The pleased flush on Clarice’s face was noted by the Miss Blakes. She had not the least objection to their noticing it. She even added to the effect by smiling to herself.

Edward left the receiver dangling. He encountered Susan coming down the stairs and reached up over the banisters to catch her by the wrist.

“We’re all going to the cinema tonight.”

She shook her head.

“Emmeline won’t.”

“Then the Croft boy-what’s his name-Cyril. I want a chaperon. In fact I want two-one to talk to Clarice, and one to talk to me.”

He was still holding her wrist as she looked down, his face more alive than she had seen it yet. Quite suddenly she began to feel happy. She laughed a little and said,

“I’m no good at being a chaperon. Besides they’re all extinct, like the dodo.”

His grip tightened.

“You’re coming if I have to drag you by the hair-you’ve got a nice lot of it to take hold of. But I expect there’s enough local scandal about me already, so you’d better come quiet. Susan-”

She looked down at him, smiling.

“I’m to cling to you?”

“Like cobbler’s wax.” He let go of her wrist. “I must now go back and tell Clarice what a nice party I’ve arranged.”

Clarice had to make a very determined effort to maintain the sweetness of her voice.

“But, Edward darling-they really can’t push in like that! It’s just not done!”

In Emmeline’s back room Edward said cheerfully,

“Well, I couldn’t leave Susan out. And a party is always better fun, don’t you think? I’ll just ring Cyril, and we can all catch the six o’clock bus.”

Clarice restrained an impulse to bang down the receiver, but since Edward had already hung up, there could be no possible object in doing so. She replaced it gently and said in a plaintive voice,

“Really, some people never know when they are not wanted. Poor Edward, he is so vexed-that tiresome Susan Wayne insists on coming too.”

Miss Mildred opined that Susan was headstrong, and they had a very cosy little talk about some other defects in her character.

When Clarice went to her own room to dress she could at least feel that the Miss Blakes had been impressed with the idea that if she and Edward were not actually engaged they were pretty far gone in that direction. And what the Miss Blakes knew today Greenings would certainly know tomorrow.

CHAPTER XIII

Miss Silver comes into the Greenings affair in the most casual manner. Nothing could have seemed less important than the fact that having undertaken to match some wool for her niece Ethel Burkett, she should, after a long and unavailing search, have turned in to the tea-shop so conveniently situated just across the road from the scene of her last failure. Ethel would be disappointed. She had come across some good pre-war wool in a box which had been in store, and there was just not enough of it to make a dress for little Josephine. Such a good quality and such a pretty colour. It really did seem a pity. It was one of those grey London days when everything looks cold and drab. A cup of tea would be most refreshing. Scone and butter too perhaps. She really was quite hungry.

The tea-shop was full, but just as she came in, two people got up from a table in the corner, and she thankfully took one of the chairs. She had just placed her handbag and umbrella on the other and was giving her order, when a girl came in and stood looking about for a vacant place. Quite a pretty girl with dark curly hair and a bright colour.

Very little ever escaped Miss Silver, and she was at once aware that the girl was dressed a little too smartly. Neither the cut nor the material was good enough to produce the effect which had obviously been aimed at. The fact that her own garments were both shabby and in a remote tradition in no way detracted from her ability to form a perfectly just estimate of another woman’s clothes. The girl, as she saw at a glance, belonged to the class, so numerous in any large town, who endeavour to satisfy their social ambitions by wearing a cheap copy of the latest mode. As she reflected upon how much nicer the young woman would have looked in a plain, durable coat and skirt, her table was approached and a rather high, pretty voice enquired,

“Please, may I sit here-or are you expecting anyone?”

Miss Silver gathered up her bag and her umbrella and said pleasantly,

“Oh, no, I am quite alone. A cup of tea is so agreeable when one has been shopping, is it not?”

The girl said yes it was. She had a little puzzled frown. She opened her handbag, extracted a powder-compact, and began to do things to her face. The frown persisted. She put away her powderpuff, gave an order to the waitress, and listened with only the most surface attention to some amiable remarks about the weather. It was not until her tea and a plate of fancy cakes had been set down and the waitress had hurried away that she leaned forward rather with the effect of a jerk and said,

“You don’t know me, but you arc Miss Silver, aren’t you- Miss Maud Silver?”

Miss Silver looked faintly surprised. If she had ever seen this girl she would have remembered her-the curly dark hair, the bright colour, the hazel eyes set a little too near together. She said,

“I do not think that we have met before, have we?”

The girl shook her head.

“No, we haven’t met. But I was nursing a case in the house opposite the block of flats where Mirabel Montague had that fake robbery. The dancer, you know. I heard all about you then, because one of the police officers-well, he was rather a friend of mine. A nice boy, just out of the Police College, and quite well connected. And he told me it was you who put them on to its being a fake. He said they all swore by you at Scotland Yard, and he pointed you out to me. It was about a year ago, but I knew you at once as soon as I looked into the tea-shop!”

A year ago-a week or two after James Random’s death-a month before she was offered the Canadian job-Dick Winnington laughing and saying, “If you want to see something out of the family album, just take a look at her! Miss Maud Silver-Maudie the Mascot, pride of the Yard!” She had liked Dick a lot, but he had faded-boys did…She bit her lip and said,

“You were wearing that coat and hat.”

The coat was the one which had reappeared every autumn for years. The black cloth of which it was made was still perfectly good, but there was that indefinable look of having been worn a good deal. The hat, a black felt with a kind of purple starfish on one side and some loops of mauve and black ribbon at the back, had been Miss Silver’s second-best for a good many years. It would continue to do its faithful duty for at least two more winters.