She must have been weary, for she dropped off as soon as she was in bed, and dreamed neither of Peter Wimsey nor of anything else.

8

The fact remains,” said Miss Pyke, “that I have to lecture at nine. Can anybody lend me a gown?”

A number of the dons were breakfasting in the S.C.R dining-room. Harriet entered in time to hear the request, formulated in a high and rather indignant tone.

“Have you lost your gown, Miss Pyke?”

“You could have mine with pleasure, Miss Pyke,” said little Miss Chilperic, mildly, “but I’m afraid it wouldn’t be nearly long enough.”

“It isn’t safe to leave anything in the S.C.R. cloakroom these days,” said Miss Pyke. “I know it was there after dinner, because I saw it.”

“Sorry,” said Miss Hillyard, “but I’ve got a 9 o’clock lecture myself.”

“You can have mine,” suggested Miss Burrows, “if you can get it back to me by 10 o’clock.”

“Ask Miss de Vine or Miss Barton,” said the Dean. “They have no lectures. Or Miss Vane-hers would fit you.”

“Certainly,” said Harriet, carelessly. “Do you want a cap as well?”

“The cap has gone as well,” replied Miss Pyke. “I don’t need it for the lecture, but it would be convenient to know where my property has gone to.”

“Surprising the way things disappear,” said Harriet helping herself to scrambled eggs. “People are very thoughtless. Who, by the way, owns a black evening crêpe de Chine, figured with bunches of red and green poppies, a draped cross-over front, deep hip-yoke and flared skirt and sleeves about three years out of date?”

She looked round the dining-room, which was by now fairly well filled. “Miss Shaw-you have a very good eye for a frock. Can you identify it?”

“I might if I saw it,” said Miss Shaw. “I don’t recollect one like it from your description.”

“Have you found one?” asked the Bursar.

“Another chapter in the mystery?” suggested Miss Barton.

“I’m sure none of my students has one like it,” said Miss Shaw. “They like to come and show me their frocks. I think it’s a good thing to take an interest in them.”

“I don’t remember a frock like that in the Senior Common Room,” said the Bursar.

“Didn’t Miss Wrigley have a black figured crepe de Chine?” asked Mrs. Goodwin.

“Yes,” said Miss Shaw. “But she’s left. And anyhow, hers had a square neck and no hip-yoke. I remember it very well.”

“Can’t you tell us what the mystery is, Miss Vane?” inquired Miss Lydgate. “Or is it better that you shouldn’t say anything?”

“Well,” said Harriet, “I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t tell you When I came in last night after my dance I-er-went the rounds a bit-”

“Ah!” said the Dean. “I thought I heard somebody going to and fro outside my window. And whispering.”

“Yes-Emily came out and caught me. I think she thought I was the Practical Joker. Well-I happened to go into the Chapel.”

She told her story, omitting all mention of Mr. Pomfret, and merely saying that the culprit had apparently left by the vestry door.

“And,” she concluded, “as a matter of fact, the cap and gown were yours, Miss Pyke, and you can have them any time. The bread-knife was taken from the Hall, presumably, or from here. And the bolster-I can’t say where they got that.”

“I think I can guess,” said the Bursar. “Miss Trotman is away. She lives on the ground floor of Burleigh. It would be easy to nip in and bag her bolster.”

“Why is Trotman away?” asked Miss Shaw. “She never told me.”

“Father taken ill,” said the Dean. “She went off in a hurry yesterday afternoon.”

“I can’t think why she shouldn’t have told me,” said Miss Shaw. “My students always come to me with their troubles. It’s rather upsetting, when you think your pupils value your sympathy-”

“But you were out to tea,” said the Treasurer, practically.

“I put a note in your pigeon-hole,” said the Dean.

“Oh,” said Miss Shaw. “Well, I didn’t see it. I knew nothing about it. It’s very odd that nobody should have mentioned it.”

“Who did know it?” asked Harriet.

There was a pause; during which everybody had time to think it strange and improbable that Miss Shaw should not have received the note or heard of Miss Trotman’s departure.

“It was mentioned at the High last night, I think,” said Miss Allison.

“I was out to dinner,” said Miss Shaw. “I shall go and see if that note’s there.”

Harriet followed her out; the note was there-a sheet of paper folded together and not sealed in an envelope.

“Well,” said Miss Shaw; “I never saw it.”

“Anybody might have read that and put it back,” said Harriet.

“Yes-including myself, you mean.”

“I didn’t say that, Miss Shaw. Anybody.”

They returned gloomily to the Common Room.

“The-er-the joke was perpetrated between dinner-time, when Miss Pyke lost her gown, and about a quarter to one, when I found it out,” said Harriet. “It would be convenient if anybody could produce a water-tight alibi for the whole of that time. Particularly for the time after 11.15. I suppose I can find out whether any students had late leave till midnight. Anybody coming in then might have seen something.”

“I have a list,” said the Dean. “And the porter could show you the names of those who came in after nine.”

“That will be a help.”

“In the meantime, said Miss Pyke, pushing away her plate and rolling her napkin, ”the ordinary duties of the day must be proceeded with. Could I have my gown-or a gown?”

She went over to Tudor with Harriet, who restored the gown and displayed the crêpe de Chine frock.

“I have never seen that dress to my knowledge before,” said Miss Pyke; “but I cannot pretend to be observant in these matters. It appears to be made for a slender person of medium height.”

“There’s no reason to suppose it belongs to the person who put it there,” said Harriet, “any more than your gown.”

“Of course not,” said Miss Pyke; “no.” She gave Harriet an odd, swift glance from her sharp, black eyes. “But the owner might provide some clue to the thief. Would it not-pardon me if I am trespassing upon your province-would it not be possible to draw some deduction from the name of the shop where it was bought?”

“Obviously it would have been,” said Harriet; “the tab has been removed.”

“Oh,” said Miss Pyke. “Well; I must go to my lecture. As soon as I can find leisure I will endeavour to provide you with a time-table of my movements last night. I fear, however, it will scarcely be illuminating. I was in my room after dinner and in bed by half-past ten.”

She stalked out, carrying her cap and gown. Harriet watched her go, and then took out a piece of paper from a drawer. The message upon it was pasted up in the usual way, and ran:

tristius haud illis monstrum nec saevior ulla pestis er ira deum. Stygös sese extulit undis. Virginei volucrum vultus foedissima ventris proluvies uncaeque manus et pallida semper ora fame.

“Harpies,” said Harriet aloud. “Harpies. That seems to suggest a train of thought. But I’m afraid we can’t suspect Emily or any of the scouts of expressing their feelings in Virgilian hexameters.”

She frowned. Matters were looking rather bad for the Senior Common Room.

Harriet tapped on Miss Cattermole’s door, regardless of the fact that it bore a large notice: HEADACHE-DO NOT DISTURB. It was opened by Miss Briggs, whose brow was anxious, but cleared when she saw who the visitor was.