‘Probably know the voice better,’ thought Laura, referring to herself. A plan presented itself. She withdrew, or, rather, passed on, as Miss Cornflake laid a hand on the door, until she was at the entrance to the Staff Cloakroom. Then she suddenly gave vent to a loud, successful imitation of Mrs Bradley’s already famous cackle, and switched on the cloakroom lights. Like a flash, Miss Cornflake leapt away from the door and began to stalk Laura down the corridor.
Laura, now on unfamiliar ground, seized a towel from one of the hooks, and then put it down and picked up a good-sized cake of soap. Then she got behind the door and listened.
Miss Cornflake made not a sound, but the end, when it came, came quickly. Laura had switched on the light to obtain warning of the approaching shadow. As soon as she saw it, out she leapt, knocked up the revolver, which went off with a noise like a bomb, dashed the soap as hard as she could in Miss Cornflake’s face, and then dived at her legs to bring her down.
Unfortunately, as she did this, and Miss Cornflake fell heavily forward, Laura hit her own head against the edge of the door. Half-stunned, she scrambled up again, however, and, with a last effort, leapt upon Miss Cornflake and proceeded to choke her with the towel.
‘Warden wants to know if you feel equal to speaking to the Principal, Dog,’ said Kitty in sepulchral tones. ‘Says don’t say yes if you mean no. What shall I tell her?’
‘Oh, Lord! I suppose that means the Deb. did report me. I wouldn’t have believed she was such a tick,’ groaned Laura, whose head ached almost unendurably, in spite of Mrs Bradley’s ministrations. To the amazement of both lecturers and students, Mrs Bradley, leaving Miss Cornflake, who was completely hors de combat, to be apprehended by others, had picked up the hefty Laura in her arms and had carried her over to Athelstan (a feat, observed Laura, to make strong men quail), and had put her to bed as though she had been a small child.
‘No, the Deb. didn’t report you. She just grinned at us when you’d gone and said she was sorry for the interruptions, but she thought you liked to show off what you knew. What shall I say about the Prin.?’
‘What does the Lord High Everything Else want, anyway? Dope about Cornflake?’
‘Yes, I expect so.’
‘Righto. Bung her in. We will give her five minutes,’ said Laura, contriving to return to her usual manner. The Principal came in ‘as one approaching a deathbed’, said Laura, recounting the incident later, and seated herself on the hat-box.
‘Now don’t disturb yourself, Miss Menzies,’ she said. ‘I shall stay not more than one minute. Miss Cornflake is in the College Infirmary, well guarded, and the police are going to question her as soon as possible. Now, that’s a weight off our minds, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, Miss du Mugne,’ replied the patient.
‘That’s all I’ve come to say, then, except…’ She looked almost wistfully at the girl… ‘except that I feel we owe you a very great debt, Miss Menzies, which we shall do our best to repay. It would never have done to have a — revolver accident actually on the College premises, would it?’
‘No, Miss du Mugne,’ replied Laura. The Principal gave her a smile of acid sweetness, told her to ‘hurry up and get well’, and left, much to Laura’s relief.
‘And now, Kitty,’ she said, when her friend came in again, ‘what am I having for dinner?’
‘Good Lord! Are you hungry, Dog?’ said Kitty, amazed. ‘We never thought to save you anything.’
‘Quite right, too,’ said Mrs Bradley’s voice outside the door. ‘The heroine and I are going to have dinner together. Now, patient, what shall we have?’
‘I suppose you can’t manage a cocktail, to start with, Warden?’ said the sufferer. ‘It would just about save my life.’
Chapter 15
RAG
« ^ »
‘I say,’ said Laura with surprising diffidence, ‘sorry I chipped in and all that, you know, but the fact is, I was expecting her.’
‘Whom do you mean? Not Miss Cornflake?’ asked Deborah, accepting the apology in the spirit in which it was rendered.
‘Yes. I saw a strange car and deduced things. I knew you’d sling me out if I kept on long enough, and it seemed the best way to manage. I didn’t want a lot of sympathetic goats offering to accompany me if I’d said I felt ill or anything, and one puts away childish things like asking to go to the what’s it when one leaves school. So I thought I’d better rag. No evil intentions.’
‘All right,’ said Deborah.
‘Many thanks. And now, Polly, to your affairs, for matters must not be left as they are. How safe are you as a confidante, I wonder?’
‘About Miss Cornflake?’ asked Deborah, who realized that it was her status and sense of responsibility and not her ability to keep a secret which Laura was questioning.
‘Well, that’s the trouble. If I said yes to that, you’d be absolved officially from having to blow the gaff, I suppose, wouldn’t you?’ said Laura. ‘Oh, heck, it makes my head ache, trying to think. On the other hand, I don’t like lying unless it’s absolutely necessary, and it might not concern Cornflake at all. Have the police checked up on her yet?’
‘Oh, yes. She’s the Miss Paynter-Tree of the Secondary School,’ said Deborah, who had been told this by Mrs Bradley.
‘Has she come clean?’
‘She hasn’t confessed anything, and she insists that she was carrying the revolver in self-defence, a thin story which nobody believes. Still, she’s wriggling pretty hard, and she hadn’t actually attacked anybody when you tackled her, you see, so she claims she’s being wrongfully detained. Still, she’d have to be kept in the Infirmary for a time, in any case, as Mrs Bradley told her.’
‘I say, they won’t let her go?’ demanded Laura, sitting up in bed with a jerk which caused her to wince.
‘Not a chance. Don’t worry. Mrs Bradley is perfectly safe,’ Deborah replied. ‘We are all much obliged to you,’ she added, assisting the patient to lie down again.
‘We spent part of the afternoon with her, you know,’ said Laura. ‘With Mrs Bradley, I mean. And I had the feeling we were being watched all the time. Kitty and I kept our eyes skinned, but couldn’t spot anyone, but then, that isn’t surprising. And I never believed that yarn about Cornflake having the measles. We found the quarry where she did some of the fell work. I wish we could prove it on her, and have done with it. And that brings me full circle, by the way. Made up your mind yet?’
‘What about?’ inquired Deborah, who had forgotten the opening of the conversation.
‘Whether I’m to trust you to keep your mouth shut,’ said Laura bluntly.
‘Oh, that! Well, I can’t promise. How can I?’
‘How can you? No, it’s awkward. However, between friends, here goes! Cartwright has received a rummy communication from the lads, and has asked my advice. She went just before you came. They want to swap College skeletons with us. I’d tell Mrs Croc. — Mrs Bradley — only I’m afraid she’d have to go all official. I thought perhaps you needn’t.’
‘What lads?’ asked Deborah. ‘Do you mean the students over at Wattsdown? If so, I should tell Mrs Bradley. That’s my advice. Where is the letter now?’
‘Cartwright’s still got it, I hope. But don’t you see, darling, that if I break these tidings to Mrs Bradley, she’ll immediately jump to the conclusion that old Cartwright was mixed up in the Great Receptacle Rag which took place, if you remember, at the beginning of last term.’
‘Well, but would that matter? If Miss Cartwright was not involved, she’d only have to say so.’
‘Trouble is,’ said Laura, ‘she was in the thick, you see.’