Harriet locked the postern behind him and returned across the quadrangle, feeling that, out of all this absurd tiresomeness, something had been most definitely gained. The dummy could scarcely have been put in position before 9:30; so that Miss Cattermole, through sheer folly, had contrived to give herself a cast-iron alibi. Harriet was so grateful to her for advancing the inquiry by even this small step that she determined the girl should, if possible, be let off the consequences of her escapade.
This reminded her that Miss Cattermole still lay on the bathroom floor, waiting to be dealt with. It would be awkward if she had come to her senses in the interval and started to make a noise. But on reaching the New Quad and unlocking the door, Harriet found her prisoner in the somnolent stage of the rake’s progress. A little research along the corridors revealed that Miss Cattermole slept on the first floor. Harriet opened the door of the room, and as she did so the door next it opened also, and a head popped out.
“Is that you, Cattermole?” whispered the head. “Oh, I’m sorry.” It popped in Harriet recognized the girl who had gone up and spoken to Miss Cattermole after the Opening of the Library. She went to her door, which bore the name of C. I. Briggs, and knocked gently. The head reappeared.
“Were you expecting to see Miss Cattermole come in?”
“Well said Miss Briggs, ”I heard somebody at her door-oh! it’s Miss Vane, isn’t it?”
“Yes. What made you sit up and wait for Miss Cattermole?”
Miss Briggs, who was wearing a woolly coat over her pajamas, looked a little alarmed.
“I had some work to do. I was sitting up in any case. Why?”
Harriet looked at the girl. She was short and sturdily built, with a plain, strong, sensible face. She appeared trustworthy.
“If you’re a friend of Miss Cattermole’s,” said Harriet, “You’d better come and help me upstairs with her. She’s down in the bathroom. I found her being helped over the wall by a young man, and she’s rather under the weather.”
“Oh, dear!” said Miss Briggs. “Tight?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“She is a fool,” said Miss Briggs. “I knew there’d be trouble some day. All right, I’ll come.”
Between them they lugged Miss Cattermole up the noisy, polished stairs and dumped her upon her bed. In grim silence they undressed her and put her between the sheets.
“She’ll sleep it off now,” said Harriet. “I think, by the way, a little explanation wouldn’t be a bad idea. How about it?”
“Come into my room,” said Miss Briggs. “Would you like any hot milk or Ovaltine or coffee, or anything?”
Harriet accepted hot milk. Miss Briggs put a kettle on the ring in the pantry opposite, came in, stirred up the fire and sat down on a pouffe.
“Please tell me,” said Miss Briggs, “what has happened.”
Harriet told her, omitting the names of the gentlemen concerned. But Miss Briggs promptly supplied the omission.
“That was Reggie Pomfret of course,” she observed. “Poor blighter. He always gets left with the baby. After all, what is the lad to do, if people go chasing him?”
“It’s awkward,” said Harriet. “I mean, you need some knowledge of the world to get out of it gracefully. Does the girl really care for him?”
“No,” said Miss Briggs. “Not really. She just wants somebody or something. You know. She got a nasty knock when her engagement was broken. You see, she and Lionel Farringdon had been childhood friends and so on, and it was all settled before she came up. Then Farringdon got collared by our Miss Flaxman, and there was a frightful bust-up. And there were complications. And Violet Cattermole has gone all unnerved.”
“I know,” said Harriet. “Sort of desperate feeling-I must have a man of my own-that kind of thing.”
“Yes. Doesn’t matter who he is. I think it’s a sort of inferiority complex, or something. One must do idiotic things and assert one’s self. Am I making myself clear?”
“Oh, yes. I understand that perfectly. It happens so often. One just has to make one’s self out no end of a little devil… Has this kind of thing happened often?”
“Well,” confessed Miss Briggs, “more often than I like. I’ve tried to keep Violet reasonable, but what’s the good of preaching to people? When they get into that worked-up state you might as well talk to the man in the moon. And though it’s very tiresome for young Pomfret, he’s awfully decent and safe. If he were strong-minded, of course he’d get out of it. But I’m rather thankful he’s not, because, if it wasn’t for him it might be some frightful tick or other.”
“Is anything likely to come of it?”
“Marriage, do you mean? No-o. I think he has enough sense of self-protection to avoid that. And besides-Look here, Miss Vane, it really is an awful shame. Miss Flaxman simply cannot leave anybody alone, and she’s trying to get Pomfret away too, though she doesn’t want him. If only she’d leave poor Violet alone, the whole thing would probably work itself out quite quietly. Mind you, I’m very fond of Violet. She’s a decent sort, and she’d be absolutely all right with the right kind of man. She’s no business to be up at Oxford at all, really. A nice domestic life with a man to be devoted to is what she really wants. But he’d have to be a solid, decided kind of man, and frightfully affectionate in a firm kind of way. But not Reggie Pomfret, who is a chivalrous young idiot.”
Miss Briggs poked the fire savagely.
“Well,” said Harriet “something has got to be done about all this. I don’t want to go to the Dean, but-”
“Of course, something must be done,” said Miss Briggs. “It’s extraordinarily lucky it should have been you who spotted it and not one of the dons. I’ve been almost wishing that something might happen. I’ve been frightfully worried about it. It isn’t the kind of thing I know how to cope with at all. But I had to stand by Violet more or less-otherwise I should simply have lost her confidence altogether and goodness knows what stupid thing she’d have done then.”
“I think you’re quite right” said Harriet. “But now, perhaps, I can have a word with her and tell her to mind her step. After all, she has got to give some guarantee of sensible behaviour if I’m not to report her to the Dean. A spot of benevolent blackmail is indicated, I fancy.”
“Yes,” agreed Miss Briggs. “You can do it. It’s exceedingly decent of you. I’ll be thankful to be relieved of the responsibility. It’s all rather wearing, and it does upset one’s work. After all, work’s what one’s here for. I’ve got Honor Mods. next term, and it’s frightfully upsetting, never knowing what’s going to happen next.”
“I expect Miss Cattermole relies on you a lot.”
“Yes,” said Miss Briggs, “but listening to people’s confidences does take such a time, and I’m not awfully good at wrestling with fits of temperament.”
“The confidante has a very heavy and thankless task,” said Harriet. “It’s not surprising if she goes mad in white linen. It’s more surprising if she keeps sane and sensible like you. But I agree that you ought to have the burden taken off your shoulders. Are you the only one?”
“Pretty well. Poor old Violet lost a lot of friends over the uproar.”
“And the business of the anonymous letters?”
“Oh, you’ve heard about that? Well, of course, it wasn’t Violet. That’s ridiculous. But Flaxman spread the story all over the college, and once you’ve started an accusation like that it takes a lot of killing.”
“It does. Well, Miss Briggs, you and I had better get to bed. I’ll come along and see Miss Cattermole after breakfast. Don’t worry too much. I dare say this upset will be a blessing in disguise. Well, I’ll be going now. Can you lend me a strong knife?”
Miss Briggs, rather astonished, produced a stout pen-knife and said good-night. On her way over to Tudor, Harriet cut down the dangling dummy and carried it away with her for scrutiny and action at a later hour. She felt she badly needed to sleep on the situation.