“Trim your boat, damn you!” said Harriet, not pleased at the idea of having two fresh corpses to see to, and forgetting in her wrath to whom she was speaking. Miss Stevens paid no attention; but Miss Edwards threw her weight over; and as the boat lifted the body lifted too. Harriet, keeping her torch steady so that the rescuers could see what they were doing, watched the reluctant weeds loose their last coils and slip back.

“Better get her in here,” said the constable. Their boat had the less room in it, but the stronger arms and the better balance. There was a strong heave and a violent lurch as the dead weight was hauled over the side and rolled in a dripping heap at Miss Haydock’s feet.

The constable was a capable and energetic young man. He took the first-aid measures in hand with admirable promptness. The women, gathered on the bank, watched with anxious faces. Other help had now arrived from the boat-house. Harriet took it upon herself to stem the stream of questions.

“Yes. One of our students. Not a good waterman. Alarmed to think she had taken a canoe out alone. Reckless. Yes, we were afraid there might be a accident. Wind. Strong current. Yes. No. Quite against the rules.” (If there was going to be an inquest, other explanations might have to be made there. But not here. Not now.) “Very unwise. High spirits. Oh, yes. Most unfortunate. Taking risks…”

“She’ll do now,” said the constable.

He sat up and wiped the sweat from his eyes.

Brandy. Blankets. A melancholy little procession along the fields to the boat-house, but less melancholy than it might have been. Then an orgy of telephoning. Then the arrival of the doctor. Then Harriet found herself, suddenly shaking with nerves, being given whisky by some kindly person. The patient was better. The patient was quite all right. The capable policeman and Miss Haydock and Miss Stevens were having their hands dressed, where the sharp weeds had slashed them to the bone. People were talking and talking, Harriet hoped they were not talking foolishly.

“Well, said the Dean in her ear, ”we are having a night!”

“Who’s with Miss Newland?”

“Miss Edwards. I’ve warned her not to let the child say anything if she can help it. And I’ve muzzled that nice policeman. Accident, my dear, accident. It’s quite all right. We’ve taken your cue. You kept your head wonderfully. Miss Stevens lost hers a bit, though. Started to cry and talk about suicide. I soon shut her up.”

“Damn!” said Harriet. “What did she want to do that for?”

“What indeed? You’d think she wanted to make a scandal.”

“Somebody obviously does.”

“You don’t think Miss Stevens-? She did her bit with the rescue-work, you know.”

“Yes, I know. All right, Dean. I don’t think. I won’t try to think. I thought she and Miss Edwards would have that boat over between them.”

“Don’t let’s discuss it now. Thank Heaven the worst hasn’t happened. The girl’s safe and that’s all that matters. What we’ve got to do now is to put the best face on it.”

It was nearly five in the morning when the rescuers, weary and bandaged, sat once again in the Warden’s house. Everybody was praising everybody else.

“It was so clever of Miss Vane,” said the Dean, “to realize that the wretched child would go up to that particular place. What a mercy that we arrived just when we did.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” said Harriet. “We may have done more harm than good. Do you realize that it was only when she saw us coming that she made up her mind to do it?”

“Do you mean she mightn’t have done it at all if we hadn’t gone after her?”

“Difficult to say. She was putting it off, I think. What really sent her in was that shout from the other boat. Who shouted, by the way?”

“I shouted,” said Miss Stevens. “I looked over my shoulder and saw her. So I shouted.”

“What was she doing when you saw her?”

“Standing up in the canoe.”

“No she wasn’t,” said Miss Edwards. “I looked round when you shouted, and she was just getting to her feet then.”

“You’re quite mistaken,” contradicted Miss Stevens. “I say she was standing up when I saw her, and I shouted to stop her. You couldn’t have seen past me.”

“I saw perfectly plainly,” said Miss Edwards. “Miss Vane is quite right. It was when she heard the shout that she got up.”

“I know what I saw,” said the Bursar, obstinately.

“It’s a pity you didn’t take somebody to cox,” said the Dean. “Nobody can see clearly what’s going on behind her back.”

“It is hardly necessary to argue about it,” said the Warden, a little sharply “The tragedy has been prevented, and that is all that matters. I am exceedingly grateful to everybody.”

“I resent the suggestion,” said Miss Stevens, “that I drove the unfortunate girl to destroy herself. And as for saying that we ought not to have gone in search of her-”

“I never said that,” said Harriet, wearily. “I only said that if we had not gone it might not have happened. But of course we had to go.”

“What does Newland say herself?” demanded the Dean.

“Says, why couldn’t we leave her alone?” replied Miss Edwards. “I told her not to be an inconsiderate little ass.”

“Poor child!” said Miss Shaw.

“If I were you,” said Miss Edwards, “I shouldn’t be too soft with these people. Bracing up is what does them good. You let them talk too much about themselves-”

“But she didn’t talk to me,” said Miss Shaw. “I tried very hard to make her.”

“They’d talk much more if you’d only leave them alone.”

“I think we’d better all go to bed,” said Miss Martin.

“What a night,” said Harriet, as she rolled, dog-weary, between the sheets. “What a gaudy night!” Her memory, thrashing round her brain like a cat in a sack, brought up the images of Mr. Pomfret and the pro-Proctor. They seemed to belong to another existence.

13

You must see,” said Harriet, “that it’s impossible to go on like this. You’ve got to call in expert help and risk the consequences. Any scandal is better than a suicide and an inquest.”

“I think you are right,” said the Warden.

Only Miss Lydgate, the Dean and Miss Edwards sat with Dr. Baring in the Warden’s sitting-room. The brave pretence at confidence had been given up. In the Senior Common Room, members averted their eyes from one another and set a guard upon their lips. They were no longer angry and suspicious. They were afraid.

“The girl’s parents are not likely to keep quiet about it,” went on Harriet, remorselessly. “If she had succeeded in drowning herself, we should have the police and the reporters in at this moment. Next time, the attempt may come off.”

“Next time-” began Miss Lydgate.

“There will be a next time,” said Harriet. “And it may not be suicide; it may be open murder. I told you at the beginning that I did not think the measures adequate. I now say that I refuse to take any further share in the responsibility. I have tried, and I have failed, every time.”

“What could the police do?” asked Miss Edwards. “We did have them in once-about those thefts, you remember, Warden. They made a great deal of fuss and arrested the wrong person. It was a very troublesome business.”

“I don’t think the police are the right people at all,” said the Dean. “Your idea was a firm of private detectives, wasn’t it?”