The Reader Is Warned

Mina was struck to animation as you strike fire from a lighter.

'Who is it downstairs?' she asked, turning large eyes. 'Is it that superintendent again ? I heard you let him in.'

'No, Mrs Constable. It's Chief Inspector Masters and Sir Henry Merrivale. They want to see...'

'I knew it. I knew it. I'll get dressed and go down straightaway. But I haven't got anything black. Oh dear, I haven't got anything black.' For a moment he thought her eyes were going to fill with tears. 'Never mind. What does it matter? It will have to do. You will tell him to wait, won't you, Doctor?'

Sanders hesitated.

'You needn't bother to get dressed, Mrs Constable. Sit there and take it easy; they'll come up here. As a matter of fact, it is Miss Hilary they want to see first.'

Hilary, who had been frowning hideously over the white wool, looked up.

'Me? Why me?'

'Some little mix-up in the testimony. Steady, Mrs Constable!'

Mina, brushing past him, had hurried into the bathroom, turned on the light, pulled a towel off the rail, stumbled against the electric heater, and finally turned in the doorway with her eyes grown hard. It was easy to sense something hard and sinewy and supple in her character, something that was not at first sight apparent. But that was not what attracted his attention. The light from the bathroom fell across her bedside table and the two bookshelves under it; and the tall scrap-book labelled New Ways of Committing Murder was now missing.

'Some little mix-up in the testimony ?' inquired Mina, -massaging her hands on the towel. 'What is it?

'Nothing important. Honestly.'

'Something to do with the toad Pennik, who wears a jewel in his head?' 'Yes.'

'I knew it! I knew it!'

'Please sit down,' Hilary urged her. She turned to Sanders. 'And - Jack' - the hesitation they had about pronouncing each other's Christian names showed a strong self-consciousness - 'there is something that will have to be settled here and now. Must you be back to work in town to-morrow?'

'Yes, I'm supposed to be. There's the inquest, of course, but that will be adjourned.'

'Couldn't you make some excuse and get leave to stay over?'

'Yes, of course. But why ?'

'Because that lady,' she nodded at Mina, who was still absently massaging her hands, 'must not be allowed to stay here overnight alone. I mean it, Jack. The hospital phoned to say that two of the servants, the cook and the maid, will be out to-morrow; but not until to-morrow. Mrs Constable has got the bee in her bonnet that she wants to stay alone, and she mustn't be allowed to. I'd stay myself like a shot, only we've got that Rice-Mason case coming up to-morrow and unless I go up to-night it quite plainly and simply means the sack. Can't you stay ?'

(After all, Sanders was reflecting, with his eye on the gap in the bookshelf where New Ways of Committing Murder had stood, I'm not a policeman. It is no business of mine. But I wish that book hadn't disappeared.)

'Please, aren't you listening?'

'Of course,' he said, pulling his thoughts back. 'I'd be only too glad to stay, if Mrs Constable doesn't mind having me. And she could do with looking after for another night: she isn't as well as she thinks she is.'

Mina's eyes puckered up; then her face grew gende with a smile of great charm. Tossing the towel aside, she went over impulsively and put her hand on Hilary's arm.

'Whatever happens,' she said, 'thanks, anyway. You've been very decent to me, both of you. And you, Hilary: I don't know what I'd have done without you. Cooking the meals! And even washing the dishes!'

'A terrible job,' said Hilary dryly. 'A perfectly back-breaking job. It quite wore me out. What on earth do you do when you're off on one of these heathenish trips of yours and there isn't anybody to wash the dishes ?’

'Oh, I pay somebody to do it,' said Mina with a certain vagueness. 'Saves time and trouble, you see.' Her tone changed. 'But don't you worry about me, my dear. I shall be quite all right, too all right. I'm looking forward to it. That is, if I can persuade the toad Pennik to stay too.'

'Pennik?'

'That's right.'

'But I thought-'

'I want to talk to Sir Henry Merrivale,' Mina went on. 'Then we shall see what we shall see. Now get out of here, please, both of you; and let me dress. There!'

She impelled them out with the briskness of one who was again on the edge of a breakdown, and the door closed noisily. Sanders was not sorry to go. He had certain things to say to Hilary; and yet he found that he would have difficulty in saying them.

The hall was very dark except for the line of great pale-glowing coloured-glass windows descending beside the staircase. They seemed even loftier, the curve of a shell; it was like being inside a warm kaleidoscope. 'And twilight saints and dim emblazonings' was the thought that occurred to him while he and Hilary walked down the stairs side by side on the thick carpet. The other words still stuck in his throat; and Hilary talked.

'You can't speak to her frankly. That's the real trouble. You either can't get past her guard at all, into what she's really thinking -'

'Who?'

'Mina, of course! Or else she becomes almost theatrically literary. There's truth on both sides of it, maybe, but how I wish I knew what was really going on here!'

'Hilary.'

'Yes?'

'Why didn't you tell me the truth about Pennik being in your room on Friday night ?'·

They both stopped. They had gone about ten steps down; above and behind them they could hear the grandfather clock ticking. He was afraid the people in the drawing-room below would hear them. 'Come here,' he said, and drew her farther back up the stairs. She did not resist; her arm felt flaccid under his grip.

Presently a quiet voice asked: 'What makes you think I didn't tell you the truth ?’

'Larry Chase saw him coming out, just before you got in through my window. Chase has told the police about it: that's what they want to see you about now. The point is, there's no harm in it. What they want to know is what frightened you so much. But he was there, wasn't he?'

He felt her draw a deep breath.

'Yes,' said Hilary. 'He was there.'

CHAPTER X

'Then why didn't you tell me?'

She was taking refuge: this time in an affected whimsicality which she sustained admirably but which was all wrong. He felt that. After a kind of Victorian curtsey she sat down on the tread of the stairs, clasped her arms round her knees, and looked up at him. In the dimness of coloured glass her expression might have meant anything.

"And why should I tell you, sir?" she said,' inquired Hilary, wagging her head.

'Come off that.'

'Perhaps there are things that a supremely innocent-minded young man ought not to know.'

'Perhaps. But the supremely innocent-minded police are going to cut up rough if they don't know. That's what I'm getting at.'

'Are you threatening me?'

'Look here, Hilary,' he said, sitting down on the tread beside her. 'You're talking exactly like the heroine of a bad thriller. Getting all up in arms and on your dignity, and concealing some trifle for no reason under the sun. The police are interested in Pennik and any movement he made. I'm interested for a different reason. What was it Pennik did to you that scared you so much?'

'What do you think? ... Oh, there you go; like the hero of a bad thriller. Do you think I wanted it shouted all over the place? Do you think any woman wants a fuss made about a thing like that, setting everybody by the ears? That is, unless she's a certain kind of woman - and there is a word for them. Much better to go on and pretend nothing has happened. It -'