Then she recovered herself. Her face had gone white, but she slowly rose to her feet. As she did so her big brown eyes narrowed and filled with an angry light. Her whole body was trembling as she burst out
`What has it to do with you? I didn't ask you to come here! What right have you to pry into my affairs? How dare you spy on me and come here to catechise me? Get out! D'you hear me? Get out at once!'
This was not at all the sort of response that the shock tactics of the gallant `Crack' would have met with in one of Molly's books. The girl would have broken down, wept upon his broad shoulder and confessed all. But then `Crack' was a handsome fellow who had the devil of a way with women, whereas his creator was only a middle aged lady novelist. No doubt, thought Molly that explained why his technique had failed so lamentably in this real life try out. Anyhow, it was clear that she had botched the whole business beyond repair; so she stood up and said
`I do apologise. My inquisitiveness was quite unjustified and I'm afraid I was very rude. I'm not either usually, and in the ordinary way I'd never dream of forcing myself on anyone. My work keeps me far too busy to waste time calling on strangers. But I couldn't help being worried by seeing you sitting on your terrace hour after hour doing absolutely nothing. And you looked so terribly unhappy that I felt sure you must be in some sort of trouble. Had other people come to see you I would never have come here; but you're very young and seemed to have no one to turn to. I'm old enough to be your mother, and I was hoping that you might care to confide in me, because I would willingly have helped you if I could. As it is I can only ask you to forgive my unwarranted intrusion.'
Mustering the remnants of her shattered dignity, Molly squared her shoulders then, with a brief inclination of her head, walked past the tall, now stone faced, girl, through the French windows and out on to the lawn. She was only half way across it when she was halted by a despairing cry behind her.
`Oh, Mrs. Fountain ! Come back! Come back! I didn't mean what I said. You're nice! You're kind: I'm sure I can trust you. I can't tell you why I'm here because I don't know myself. But I'm worried out of my wits. Oh, please let me talk to you.'
Molly turned, and next moment the slim girlish figure was weeping in her arms. Without elation, but in faint surprise, she was conscious of the thought that good old `Crack's' technique had worked after all.
3
The Mysterious Recluse
A good ten minutes elapsed before Christina as she called herself became fully coherent. During that time the only concrete fact that Molly had got out of her was that the purposeful looking middle aged man who had arrived in the taxi with her four days before was her father.
They were now back in the house and sitting together on the cheap, velvet covered settee. Molly had one arm round the girl's shoulders and was gently wiping the tears from her cheeks with a totally inadequate handkerchief. When her sobbing at last began to ease, Molly said
`My dear, do you really mean to tell me that your father brought you here and left you without giving any reason at all for doing so?'
`The... the only reason he gave was that I ... I have enemies who are hunting for me.'
`What sort of enemies?'
The girl gave a loud sniff, then fished out her own handkerchief and blew her snub nose. When she had done, she said in a firmer voice, `I don't know. I haven't an idea. That's just what makes the whole thing so puzzling.'
Molly poured some more of the fruit juice into a glass and handed it to her. She drank a little, said `Thanks,' and went on, `He simply said that I was threatened by a very great danger, but that I had nothing at all to worry about providing I obeyed his instructions implicitly. When I pressed him to tell me what the danger was, he said it was far better that I should know nothing about it, because if I knew I might start imagining things and do something silly. All I had to do was to lie low here for a few weeks and I should be quite safe.'
`You poor child! I don't wonder now that you've been unable to give your thoughts to any form of amusement, with a thing like this on your mind. But have you no idea at all what this threat might be, or who these enemies are from whom your father is hiding you?'
`No. I've cudgeled my wits for hours about it, but I haven't a clue. I've never done any grave harm to anyone. Honestly I haven't. And I can't think why anyone should want to harm me.'
After considering the matter for a moment, Molly asked, `Are you by chance a very rich girl?'
Oh no. Father left me ample money to pay for my stay here, and he gives me a generous dress allowance; but that's all I've got.'
`I really meant, are you an heiress? Has anyone left you a big sum of money into which you come when you are twenty one?'
'No: no one has ever left me anything. I don't think any of my relatives ever had much to leave, anyway.'
`How about your father? Is he very well off
'I suppose so. Yes, he must be. We live very quietly at home, but all the same he must make a lot of money out of the factory, and all the other businesses in which he is mixed up. But why do you ask?'
`I was wondering if there could be a plot to kidnap you and hold you to ransom.'
The big brown eyes showed a mild scepticism. `Surely that sort of thing happens only in America? Besides, my father is no richer than scores of other British industrialists; so I can't see any reason why kidnappers should single him out for their attention.'
`What does he make at his factory?'
Motor engines.
The reply instantly aroused Molly's instinct for good thriller plots, and she exclaimed, `Then he may be one of the key men in the rearmament drive. Perhaps he holds the secret of some new type of aircraft. It may be the Russians who are after you, in the hope that he will betray the secret as the price of getting you back.'
With a shake of the head, the girl swiftly damped Molly's ardour. `No, Mrs. Fountain, it can't be that. He only makes dull things like agricultural tractors.'
Again Molly pondered the problem, then she asked a little diffidently, `Before you left England, did you go into a private nursing home to have a minor operation?'
`Yes.' The brown eyes grew round with surprise. `However did you guess?'
`I didn't. It was just a shot in the dark. But since you admit it that may explain everything. The probability is that your father brought you out here to hide you from the police.'
`I can't think what you're talking about. Having an operation isn't a crime.'
`It can be, in certain circumstances,' Molly replied dryly. `Well, I'm sure they don't apply to me.'
`They might. Is your mother still alive?'
`No; she died when I was six.'
`Have you any elder sisters?'
`No, I am an only child.'
Molly nodded and said gently, `That makes what I have in mind all the more likely. Even in these days quite a number of girls, particularly the motherless ones, reach the age of nineteen or twenty without knowing enough about life to take care of themselves. When you found you were going to have a baby and your father put you in the nursing home to have it removed, he evidently decided that you had quite enough to worry about already without his telling you that such operations are illegal. But they are, and if the police have got on to that nursing home they are probably investigating all the operations that took place in it. Everyone concerned would be liable to be sent to prison. As you were an innocent party I don't think you need fear that for yourself; but for having authorized the operation, your father might get quite a heavy sentence. So it's hardly to be wondered at that he wants to keep you out of the way until the police have got their evidence from other cases and the danger of your being drawn into it is past.'