"You mean mothers might think that their daughters were going to get murdered too?"
"I don't think my mother's quite as bad as that," said Jennifer. "But she did get in quite a flap about it."
"If you ask me," said Julia, in a meditative manner, "I think there's a lot that they haven't told us about Springer."
"What sort of things?"
"Well, funny things seem to be happening. Like your new tennis racquet."
"Oh, I meant to tell you," said Jennifer, "I wrote and thanked Aunt Gina and this morning I got a letter from her saying she was very glad I'd got a new racquet but that she never sent it to me."
"I told you that racquet business was peculiar," said Julia triumphantly, "and you had a burglary, too, at your home, didn't you?"
"Yes, but they didn't take anything."
"That makes it even more interesting," said Julia. "I think," she added thoughtfully, "that we shall probably have a second murder soon."
"Oh, really, Julia, why should we have a second murder?"
"Well, there's usually a second murder in books," said Julia. "What I think is, Jennifer, that you'll have to be frightfully careful that it isn't you who gets murdered."
"Me?" said Jennifer, surprised. "Why should anyone murder me?"
"Because somehow you're mixed up in it all," said Julia. She added thoughtfully, "We must try and get a bit more out of your mother next week, Jennifer. Perhaps somebody gave her some secret papers out in Ramat."
"What sort of secret papers?"
"Oh, how should I know," said Julia. "Plans or formulas for a new atomic bomb. That sort of thing."
Jennifer looked unconvinced.
III
Miss Vansittart and Miss Chadwick were in the Common Room when Miss Rowan entered and said:
"Where is Shaista? I can't find her anywhere. The Emir's car has just arrived to call for her."
"What?" Chaddy looked up surprised. "There must be some mistake. The Emir's car came for her about three quarters of an hour ago. I saw her get into it and drive off myself. She was one of the first to go."
Eleanor Vansittart shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose a car must have been ordered twice over, or something," she said.
She went out herself and spoke to the chauffeur. "There must be some mistake," she said. "The young lady has already left for London three quarters of an hour ago."
The chauffeur seemed surprised. "I suppose there must be some mistake, if you say so, madam," he said. "I was definitely given instructions to call at Meadowbank for the young lady."
"I suppose there's bound to be a muddle sometimes," said Miss Vansittart.
The chauffeur seemed unperturbed and unsurprised. "Happens all the time," he said. "Telephone messages taken, written down, forgotten. All that sort of thing. But we pride ourselves in our firm that we don't make mistakes. Of course, if I may say so, you never know with these Oriental gentlemen. They've sometimes got quite a big entourage with them, and orders get given twice and even three times over. I expect that's what must have happened in this instance." He turned his large car with some adroitness and drove away.
Miss Vansittart looked a little doubtful for a moment or two, but she decided there was nothing to worry about and began to look forward with satisfaction to a peaceful afternoon.
After luncheon the few girls who remained wrote letters or wandered about the grounds. A certain amount of tennis was played and the swimming pool was well patronized. Miss Vansittart took her fountain pen and her writing pad to the shade of the cedar tree. When the telephone rang at half past four it was Miss Chadwick who answered it.
"Meadowbank School?" The voice of a well-bred young Englishman spoke. "Oh, is Miss Bulstrode there?"
"Miss Bulstrode's not here today. This is Miss Chadwick speaking."
"Oh, it's about one of your pupils. I am speaking from Claridge's, the Emir Ibrahim's suite."
"Oh, yes? You mean about Shaista?"
"Yes. The Emir is rather annoyed at not having got a message of any kind."
"A message? Why should he get a message?"
"Well, to say that Shaista couldn't come, or wasn't coming."
"Wasn't coming? Do you mean to say she hasn't arrived?"
"No, no, she's certainly not arrived. Did she leave Meadowbank then?"
"Yes. A car came for her this morning - oh, about half past eleven I should think, and she drove off."
"That's extraordinary because there's no sign of her here... I'd better ring up the firm that supplies the Emir's cars."
"Oh, dear," said Miss Chadwick, "I do hope there hasn't been an accident."
"Oh, don't let's assume the worst," said the young man cheerfully. "I think you'd have heard, you know, if there'd been an accident. Or we would. I shouldn't worry if I were you."
But Miss Chadwick did worry.
"It seems to me very odd," she said.
"I suppose -" The young man hesitated.
"Yes?" said Miss Chadwick.
"Well, it's not quite the sort of thing I want to suggest to the Emir, but just between you and me there's no - er - well, no boy friend hanging about, is there?"
"Certainly not," said Miss Chadwick with dignity.
"No, no, well I didn't think there would be, but, well one never knows with girls, does one? You'd be surprised at some of the things I've run into."
"I can assure you," said Miss Chadwick with dignity, "that anything of that kind is quite impossible."
But was it impossible? Did one ever know with girls?
She replaced the receiver and rather unwillingly went in search of Miss Vansittart. There was no reason to believe that Miss Vansittart would be any better able to deal with the situation than she herself but she felt the need of consulting with someone. Miss Vansittart said at once:
"The second car?"
They looked at each other.
"Do you think," said Chaddy slowly, "that we ought to report this to the police?"
"Not to the police," said Eleanor Vansittart in a shocked voice.
"She did say, you know," said Chaddy, "that somebody might try to kidnap her."
"Kidnap her? Nonsense!" said Miss Vansittart sharply.
"You don't think -" Miss Chadwick was persistent.
"Miss Bulstrode left me in charge here," said Eleanor Vansittart, "and I shall certainly not sanction anything of the kind. We don't want any more trouble here with the police."
Miss Chadwick looked at her without affection. She thought Miss Vansittart was being short-sighted and foolish. She went back into the house and put through a call to the Duchess of Welsham's house. Unfortunately everyone was out.
Chapter 14
MISS CHADWICK LIES AWAKE
Miss Chadwick was restless. She turned to and fro in her bed, counting sheep, and employing other time-honoured methods of invoking sleep. In vain.
At eight o'clock, when Shaista had not returned, and there had been no news of her, Miss Chadwick had taken matters into her own hands and rung up Inspector Kelsey. She was relieved to find that he did not take the matter too seriously. She could leave it all to him, he assured her. It would be an easy matter to check up on a possible accident. After that, he would get in touch with London. Everything would be done that was necessary. Perhaps the girl herself was playing truant. He advised Miss Chadwick to say as little as possible at the school. Let it be thought that Shaista was staying the night with her uncle at Claridge's.
"The last thing you want, or that Miss Bulstrode would want, is any more publicity," said Kelsey. "It's most unlikely that the girl has been kidnapped. So don't worry, Miss Chadwick. Leave it all to us."
But Miss Chadwick did worry.
Lying in bed, sleepless, her mind went from possible kidnapping back to murder.
Murder at Meadowbank. It was terrible! Unbelievable! Meadowbank. Miss Chadwick loved Meadowbank. She loved it, perhaps, even more than Miss Bulstrode did, though in a somewhat different way. It had been such a risky gallant enterprise. Following Miss Bulstrode faithfully into the hazardous undertaking, she had endured panic more than once. Supposing the whole thing should fail. They hadn't really had much capital. If they did not succeed - if their backing was withdrawn - Miss Chadwick had an anxious mind and could always tabulate innumerable ifs. Miss Bulstrode had enjoyed the adventure, the hazard of it all, but Chaddy had not. Sometimes, in an agony of apprehension, she had pleaded for Meadowbank to be run on more conventional lines. It would be safer, she urged. But Miss Bulstrode had been uninterested in safety. She had her vision of what a school should be and she had pursued it unafraid. And she had been justified in her audacity. But oh, the relief to Chaddy when success was a fait accompli. When Meadowbank was established, safely established, as a great English institution. It was then that her love for Meadowbank had flowed most fully. Doubts, fears, anxieties, all slipped from her. Peace and prosperity had come. She basked in the prosperity of Meadowbank like a purring tabby cat.
She had been quite upset when Miss Bulstrode had first begun to talk of retirement. Retire now - when everything was set fair? What madness! Miss Bulstrode talked of travel, of all the things in the world to see. Chaddy was unimpressed. Nothing, anywhere, could be half as good as Meadowbank! It had seemed to her that nothing could affect the well being of Meadowbank. But now - murder!
Such an ugly violent word - coming in from the outside world like an ill-mannered storm wind. Murder - a word associated by Miss Chadwick only with delinquent boys with flick knives, or evil-minded doctors poisoning their wives. But murder here - at a school - and not any school - at Meadowbank. Incredible.
Really, Miss Springer - poor Miss Springer, naturally it wasn't her fault - but, illogically, Chaddy felt that it must have been her fault in some way. She didn't know the traditions of Meadowbank. A tactless woman. She must in some way have invited murder. Miss Chadwick rolled over, turned her pillow, said, "I mustn't go on thinking of it all. Perhaps I had better get up and take some aspirin. I'll just try counting to fifty..."
Before she had got to fifty, her mind was off again on the same track. Worrying. Would all this - and perhaps kidnapping too - get into the papers? Would parents, reading, hasten to take their daughters away...
Oh, dear, she must calm down and go to sleep. What time was it? She switched on her light and looked at her watch. Just after a quarter to one. Just about the time that poor Miss Springer... No, she would not think of it any more. And, how stupid of Miss Springer to have gone off by herself like that without waking up somebody else.
"Oh, dear," said Miss Chadwick. "I'll have to take some aspirin."
She got out of bed and went over to the washstand. She took two aspirins with a drink of water. On her way back, she pulled aside the curtain of the window and peered out. She did so to reassure herself more than for any other reason. She wanted to feel that of course there would never again be a light in the Sports Pavilion in the middle of the night... But there was.
In a minute Chaddy had leapt to action. She thrust her feet into stout shoes, pulled on a thick coat, picked up her own flashlight and rushed out of her room and down the stairs. She had blamed Miss Springer for not obtaining support before going out to investigate, but it never occurred to her to do so. She was only eager to get out to the Pavilion and find out who the intruder was. She did pause to pick up a weapon - not perhaps a very good one, but a weapon of kinds, and then she was out of the side door and following quickly along the path through the shrubbery. She was out of breath, but completely resolute. Only when she got at last to the door, did she slacken up and take care to move softly. The door was slightly ajar. She pushed it further open and looked in...
II
At about the time when Miss Chadwick was rising from bed in search of aspirin, Ann Shapland, looking very attractive in a black dance frock, was sitting at a table in Le Nid Sauvage eating supreme of chicken and smiling at the young man opposite her. Dear Denis, thought Ann to herself, always so exactly the same. It is what I simply couldn't bear if I married him. He is rather a pet, all the same. Aloud she remarked:
"What fun this is, Denis. Such a glorious change."
"How is the new job?" said Denis.
"Well, actually, I'm rather enjoying it."
"Doesn't seem to me quite your sort of thing."
Ann laughed. "I'd be hard put to it to say what is my sort of thing. I like variety, Denis."
"I never can see why you gave up your job with old Sir Mervyn Todhunter."
"Well, chiefly because of Sir Mervyn Todhunter. The attention he bestowed on me was beginning to annoy his wife. And it's part of my policy never to annoy wives. They can do you a lot of harm, you know."
"Jealous cats," said Denis.
"Oh, no, not really," said Ann. "I'm rather on the wives' side. Anyway I liked Lady Todhunter much better than old Mervyn. Why are you surprised at my present job?"
"Oh, a school. You're not scholastically minded at all, I should have said."
"I'd hate to teach in a school. I'd hate to be penned up. Herded with a lot of women. But the work as the secretary of a school like Meadowbank is rather fun. It really is a unique place, you know. And Miss Bulstrode's unique. She's really something, I can tell you. Her steel-grey eye goes through you and sees your innermost secrets. And she keeps you on your toes. I'd hate to make a mistake in any letters I'd taken down for her. Oh, yes, she's certainly something."
"I wish you'd get tired of all these jobs," said Denis. "It's quite time, you know, Ann, that you stopped all this racketing about with jobs here and jobs there and - and settled down."
