Flight of a Witch Part 6

'Nothing conclusive. He was home, that's true enough, but in and out a good deal, apparently. I asked them to fill in Sat.u.r.day evening, and let the rest go. From London to Birmingham is an evening out these days. Coaches do it in no time, up the Ml. I called them again half an hour ago, but they won't be rushed. I hoped we'd get that, at least, before we had to issue the hand-out, but it makes no difference. We'd have had to publish, the grapevine was getting in first. So how does it stand from the other end now? How's your list of possibles?'

'Wide open. Her parents think they had a boy-proof fence erected round her, but you and I know there's no such thing. There were three or four rather dull and respectable lads they allowed to squire her to dances, but always with the Gibbons girl in tow. But who knows whether they stay dull and respectable once they're out of sight of the older generation? Here are the names of the approved, and we're checking up on them, but I'm not expecting much from them. Still, you never know. Then there's young Geoff Westcott, who would certainly not not have been approved by mother. He's danced with Annet several times, and started a fight over her at least once. And he chose to take the few days' holiday Lowthers owed him from the summer this last week-end, and filled up at old man Hopton's on Thursday afternoon. Scott is nosing around to find out what he did with his time. And then there's an interesting outsider. I saw him this morning in Abbot's Bale. Mrs Beck always rea.s.sured herself that the Blacklocks took care to send Annet home in the car when she worked late, or whenever the nights dropped dark early, or there was bad weather. If Regina or hubby didn't drive her home, they sent her with the chauffeur. All very nice and safe, and when could she possibly have struck up an undesirable acquaintance? But was it so nice and safe? Braidie was sixty-five and past caring, but Braidie, it seems, retired about three months ago. The fellow they've got now I wonder if the Becks have even noticed? is one Stockwood, twenty-fourish, good-looking and altogether presentable. And because Mrs Blacklock was away at her conference, and Blacklock prefers to drive himself, Stockwood was given the week-end off after he'd driven Mrs Blacklock down to Gloucester, and he reported back only to fetch her home on Wednesday. Annet had the opportunity to get to know have been approved by mother. He's danced with Annet several times, and started a fight over her at least once. And he chose to take the few days' holiday Lowthers owed him from the summer this last week-end, and filled up at old man Hopton's on Thursday afternoon. Scott is nosing around to find out what he did with his time. And then there's an interesting outsider. I saw him this morning in Abbot's Bale. Mrs Beck always rea.s.sured herself that the Blacklocks took care to send Annet home in the car when she worked late, or whenever the nights dropped dark early, or there was bad weather. If Regina or hubby didn't drive her home, they sent her with the chauffeur. All very nice and safe, and when could she possibly have struck up an undesirable acquaintance? But was it so nice and safe? Braidie was sixty-five and past caring, but Braidie, it seems, retired about three months ago. The fellow they've got now I wonder if the Becks have even noticed? is one Stockwood, twenty-fourish, good-looking and altogether presentable. And because Mrs Blacklock was away at her conference, and Blacklock prefers to drive himself, Stockwood was given the week-end off after he'd driven Mrs Blacklock down to Gloucester, and he reported back only to fetch her home on Wednesday. Annet had the opportunity to get to know him him, all right. Probably three, four times a week he's had her in the car alone with him.'

'And that's all?'

George said, with his eyes fixed on the roofs of Hill Street outside the window, and the small crease of personal anxiety between his brows, 'It wouldn't do any harm to get on to Capel Curig, and ask them to check up on the boys and their camp-site, I suppose. Shouldn't take them long, we can tell them exactly where they were supposed to be.'

'I did,' said Duckett smugly, and grinned at him broadly through the smoke of his pipe and the stubbornly un-military thicket of his moustache; and anything that could raise a genuine grin that day was more than welcome. 'I should have told you sooner you can cross off young Mallindine. They were there, all right, both of 'em, we found people who saw them regularly two of three times a day, one couple who climbed with them all day Sunday. Sat.u.r.day night, around the time we're interested in, know where they were? In the local, with a couple of half-pints. The barman remembers, because he asked 'em, by way of a leg-pull, if they were eighteen. He says one of 'em looked down his nose at him and said yes, and the other blushed till his ears lit up.'

'Good G.o.d!' said George blankly, manfully suppressing the thankful lift of his heart. 'I didn't know he could.'

'Plenty of things you don't know about your Dom, you can safely bet on that. But his friend's in the clear over this, and your boy hasn't had to tell any lies for him. As for his crime against the Licensing Act, you take my tip, George, don't waste it. Save it up till the next time he gets uppish with his old man, and then flatten him with it. You'll have him walking on tip-toe for weeks, thinking you're Sherlock Holmes in person.'

'I wish to G.o.d I was!' owned George, sighing, and rose somewhat wearily to put on his coat. Something was gained, at least, if Miles was safely out of the reckoning. Only let there be someone observant and reliable somewhere in Birmingham at this moment, reading the noon edition over his lunch, and suddenly arrested by Annet's recognised and remembered face. Let him be able to set another face beside it, clearly, quickly, before that other turned the same page, to swallow his heart and pocket his shaking hands, and ponder at last, inescapably, that it was Annet or himself for it.

'I'm going to s.n.a.t.c.h a meal,' he said, picking up his hat from Duckett's desk. 'I'll be back.'

He had the door open when the telephone rang. Very quietly he closed the door again, and watched Duckett palm the hand-set, his s.h.a.ggy head on one side, his thick brows twitching.

'Ah, like that!' said Duckett, after a few minutes of silences and monosyllables, and emitted a brief and unamused snort of laughter. 'Yes, thanks, it does. Clears the decks for us, anyhow, and leaves us with at least a glimmer of a lead. Yes, let us have the reports. Thanks again!' He clapped the receiver back and thrust the set away from him with a grunt that might have meant satisfaction or disgust, or a mixture of both.

'Well?' said George, his shoulder against the door.

'One more you can cross off. His parents didn't see him for most of Sat.u.r.day, he came in after midnight. But there's a girl. A clinger, it seems. All Sat.u.r.day afternoon and evening she never let go. You can take the story he told to you as being on the level, tyre-tracks and all, for what they're worth. Whoever knocked old Worrall on the head, your Number One didn't.'

Chapter VII.

The evening paper wasn't dropped into the Felse family's letter-box until the last edition came in at about five o'clock. Bunty Felse was alone when it came, with the tea ready, and neither husband nor son present to eat it. Dominic was always late on rugger practice afternoons, but even so he should have been home before this time. And as for George, when he was on this kind of case who could tell when she would see him?

She sat down with the paper to wait for them patiently, and Annet Beck's face looked out at her from the front page with great, mute, disconcerting eyes, beneath the query: 'Have you seen this girl?'

'Anyone who remembers noticing the girl pictured above,' said the beginning of the text more precisely, 'with a male companion in the central or southern districts of Birmingham during last week-end, should communicate with the police.'

Bunty read it through, and in fact it was as reticent as it could well be and still be exact in conveying its purpose and its urgency. She sank her head between her hands, threading her fingers into the bush of chestnut hair that was just one shade darker than Dominic's, and contemplated Annet long and thoughtfully. 'A male companion,' 'it is believed,' 'helping the police in their enquiries' such discreet, such clinical formulae, guaranteed non-actionable. But a real girl in the middle of it, and somewhere, still hidden, a real boy, maybe no older than Dominic.

They were pretty sure of their facts, that was clear. They knew when they laid hands on the partner of Annet's truancy they would have Jacob Worrall's murderer. What they didn't know, what n.o.body knew but Annet, was who he was. And Annet wouldn't tell. Bunty didn't have to wonder or ask how things were going for George now, she knew.

No one could identify him but Annet. And she wouldn't. Why, otherwise, should they be reduced to appealing to the public for information, and displaying Annet as bait? He might be anyone. He might be anywhere. You might go down to the grocer's on the corner and ask him for a pound of cheese, and his hands might be trembling so he could hardly control the knife. You might b.u.mp into him at a corner and put your hand on his arm to steady yourself and him as you apologised, and feel him flinch, recoiling for an instant from the dread of a more official hand on his shoulder. He might get up and give you his seat in a bus, or blare past you on a noisy motor-bike at the crossing, and snarl at you to get out of his way. He might be the young clerk from the Education Department, just unfolding the paper in the bus on his way home. He'd killed a man, and he was on the run, but only one girl could give him a face or a name.

How well did he know his Annet? Do you ever know anyone well enough to stake your life on her? When all the claims of family and society and upbringing pull the other way? If he was absolutely sure of her loyalty, there was a hope that he wouldn't try to approach her at all, that he'd just take his plunder and make a quiet getaway while he was anonymous, leaving Annet to carry the load alone. Could she love that kind of youth? Plenty of fine girls have, owned Bunty ruefully, why not Annet? It might be the best thing, because if he started running he would almost inevitably lose his nerve and run too fast, and just one slip would bring the hunt after him. Somewhere away from here, where he couldn't double back to remove, in his last despair, the one really dangerous witness.

But if he couldn't be sure of her, if he feared, as he well might, that under pressure she might break down at last and betray him, then from this moment on Annet's life was in great danger. If you're frightened to death, you stop loving, you stop thinking or feeling but in one desperate plane of reference, you fight for your life, and kill whatever threatens it. These, at least, thought Bunty, must be the reactions of an unstable young creature, not yet mature, the kind of boy who could have committed that brutal, opportunist crime in the shop in Bloome Street. The commonplace of today, the current misdemeanour, cosh the shopkeeper, clear the till, run; quick money to pay for this and future sprees, in three easy movements. It happens all the time. Preferably old men or old women in back-street shops, because they're so often solitary. No, the boy who did that wouldn't keep his love intact for long when it was his life or Annet's.

Bunty got up suddenly and went to the telephone in the hall. It wasn't so much that she was really anxious about her offspring; just a sudden unwillingness to be alone with this line of thought any longer, and a feeling that company would be helpful. It might even help her to think. How could she leave alone a problem that was tormenting George?

'Eve? You haven't got Dominic there, have you?'

'I did have, sweetie, for about ten minutes, but that was half an hour ago. They blew in and went into a huddle in the corner, and then they up and made a phone call, and went off again. They brought the paper in with them. I did wonder,' said Eve Mallindine, resigning the idea reluctantly, 'if they'd come to you. They never said a word. And when I looked at the "News" well, you'll have seen it.'

'Yes,' said Bunty, and pondered, jutting a dubious lip. 'Eve they were were where they said they were, surely? Over the week-end? They couldn't, either of them-' where they said they were, surely? Over the week-end? They couldn't, either of them-'

'No,' said Eve, firmly and serenely, 'they couldn't. Neither of them. Not in any circ.u.mstances.'

'No, of course not! My G.o.d, I must be going round the bend. It's such h.e.l.l growing up, that's all. And I'm afraid to think we've got angels instead of boys such arrogance! And there was was the first time, for Miles don't shoot me down in flames, but it did happen.' the first time, for Miles don't shoot me down in flames, but it did happen.'

'Listen, honey,' said Eve's bright, confident voice, for once subdued into a wholly private and unmocking tenderness, 'it didn't didn't happen. Not even that once. Don't tell anyone else. I promised Miles I wouldn't ask him anything, or tell anything, and I wouldn't now if we weren't all in a pretty sticky situation. Miles never tried to run away anywhere, with or without Annet Beck. So you can put that out of your mind.' happen. Not even that once. Don't tell anyone else. I promised Miles I wouldn't ask him anything, or tell anything, and I wouldn't now if we weren't all in a pretty sticky situation. Miles never tried to run away anywhere, with or without Annet Beck. So you can put that out of your mind.'

'But they were picked up at the station,' said Bunty blankly, 'with two cases. And two tickets to London.'

'So they were. Two cases. But both of them were Annet's.'

'Both of them? But Bill would have of them? But Bill would have known known! For goodness' sake! He took Annet home with one case, and brought Miles back with the other. Do you mean to tell me he doesn't know the family luggage?'

Eve said, with curiosity, wonder, and not a little envy: 'You know, George must be a tidy-minded man, to inspire such confidence in husbands. Bill?' A brief, affectionate hoot of laughter patted his name on the head and reduced him to size. 'Bill doesn't know his own s.h.i.+rts. Every time we dig the cases out of the attic to pack, he swears he's never seen half of them before. "When did we buy this thing, darling?" "I don't remember this did we pinch it somewhere?" I could filch a tie out of his drawer and give it him for his birthday, and he wouldn't know.'

'But how, then? I mean-'

'I don't know, I never asked. When Bill dropped on them and jumped to conclusions, Miles arranged it that way, that's all. And she let him. I I got the case back to Annet afterwards. I took advantage of Regina Blacklock's car to do it, but she never knew, and you knew Braidie, he was so correct he was stone-deaf to everything but what he was supposed to hear. It was very easy, I just telephoned to Annet at the hall, and asked her to get Braidie to call here when he took her home, some day when her parents would be out. So I know what I'm talking about, my love. I'd thought the poor lamb had bought it specially for the jaunt, you see, and I started to unpack it, out of pure kindness of heart and helpfulness. Thank G.o.d Bill wasn't there! All Annet's best frocks! You should have seen his face! After he'd covered up for her so n.o.bly, and then to see me meddling. I tell you, I had the honour of all mothers in my hands.' got the case back to Annet afterwards. I took advantage of Regina Blacklock's car to do it, but she never knew, and you knew Braidie, he was so correct he was stone-deaf to everything but what he was supposed to hear. It was very easy, I just telephoned to Annet at the hall, and asked her to get Braidie to call here when he took her home, some day when her parents would be out. So I know what I'm talking about, my love. I'd thought the poor lamb had bought it specially for the jaunt, you see, and I started to unpack it, out of pure kindness of heart and helpfulness. Thank G.o.d Bill wasn't there! All Annet's best frocks! You should have seen his face! After he'd covered up for her so n.o.bly, and then to see me meddling. I tell you, I had the honour of all mothers in my hands.'

'I'll be cheering in a minute,' said Bunty, swallowing a sound that indicated other possibilities. 'All right, I'm grateful, you preserved our reputation most n.o.bly. But if you expect me to live up to your record, and not ask questions-'

'Wouldn't be any good, darling, I don't know any more answers.'

'Not even who the second ticket was for?'

'That least of all. Because Miles doesn't know it, either.'

'Then I give up! Why Why should he-' should he-'

But she stopped there, because there could be only one reason, and it made her stand back and look again at young Miles, with sympathy and respect, and a sudden flurry of consternation and dismay. If he was reaching after maturity at this rate, without any childish desire for acknowledgement or payment or praise, how far behind could Dominic be? She didn't want them men too soon, she needed a little time yet to get used to it, even though the symptoms had begun already so long ago. She caught her breath in a rueful giggle, and said: 'Eve, do you suppose there's an evening cla.s.s we could join on growing old gracefully?'

She expected something profane and cheering from Eve in return, but there was blank silence, as though her friend had withdrawn altogether and cut off the connection. On Bunty, too, the abrupt chill of realisation descended, freezing her where she stood.

'Bunty-' said Eve's voice, slowly and delicately.

'Yes, I'm still here. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?'

'I shouldn't wonder,' said Eve. 'Great minds!'

'Could it be the same person? Since it wasn't Miles, that time it be the same person? Since it wasn't Miles, that time could could it be? Then anything Miles knows anything! may be vital. Anything she ever said to him then, a name or something short of a name. Anything he noticed about her. Anyone he saw her with. She relied on him, she let him help her, she may have trusted him with at least a clue.' it be? Then anything Miles knows anything! may be vital. Anything she ever said to him then, a name or something short of a name. Anything he noticed about her. Anyone he saw her with. She relied on him, she let him help her, she may have trusted him with at least a clue.'

'No,' said Eve, her voice anxious and still. 'Miles doesn't know. He He whoever he may be was always a secret, from Miles, from everybody, just like this time. Terribly like this time, now you come to mention it.' whoever he may be was always a secret, from Miles, from everybody, just like this time. Terribly like this time, now you come to mention it.'

'But there might be something that he does know, without even realising it. Eve, he must talk to George.'

'You took the words out of my mouth. Call me if he shows up there. And if he comes back here,' said Eve with grim resolution, 'I'll see to it that he comes round to your place and gets the whole story off his chest like a sensible man if I have to bring him along by the ear!'

No one, however, had to bring Miles along by the ear. About seven o'clock Bunty looked out as she drew the living-room curtains, and saw them striding briskly and purposefully up the garden path towards the front door, Dominic in the lead. Not merely two young, slender shapes, but three. Somewhere along the way, Bunty thought at first, they'd picked up a third sixth-former who had an uneasy conscience about something he knew and hadn't confided; but when she ran to let them in, and they came into the light of the hall, she saw that the third was Tom Kenyon.

Of all people in the world she would least have expected them to run to him for advice. He was too perilously near to them, and yet set apart by the invisible barrier that segregates teacher from pupils; too old to be accepted as a contemporary, and too young to have any of the menace or rea.s.surance of a father-figure. They liked him well enough, with reservations, these hard-to-please, deflationary young gentlemen, even if they had christened him Brash 'Arry, jumping to conclusions about the middle initial H on his brief-case; but to go to him in their anxieties was quite another matter.

'Hallo!' said Bunty, from long habit reducing even the abnormal to normality. 'Come in! You're in time for coffee, if you'd like some.'

'I'm sorry if we look like an invasion,' said Tom, with a brief and shadowed smile, 'but this may be urgent. Is George home yet? We've got to see him.'

'Yes, come along in.' She threw the door wide and pa.s.sed them through. Her son went by with a single preoccupied glance of apology for his lateness. Miles, always meticulous, said a dutiful: 'Good evening, Mrs Felse!' Tom marshalled them before him with an air of dominant responsibility that made Bunty smile, until she remembered the occasion that had almost certainly brought them here. 'Visitors for you, darling!' she said, and closed the door on them and went to rea.s.sure Eve.

George had his slippered feet on the low mantelpiece, and his coffee-cup in the hearth by his chair. He looked up at their entrance with tired eyes, not yet past surprise at this procession.

'Hallo, Kenyon, what is this? Are you having trouble with these two?'

Two reproving frowns deplored this tone. Tom Kenyon didn't even notice.

'They came to me after they'd seen the paper tonight. It seems they'd been comparing notes and putting two and two together, and they came to the conclusion they had some information and a theory that they ought to confide to somebody in authority. Your boy naturally wanted to come straight to you, but Miles preferred to try it out on me first, before bothering you.'

That was one way of putting it. He knew very well why, of course. At first startled and disarmed by their telephone call, he had been tempted to believe that he had done even better than he had supposed during this first term, and established himself as the natural confessor to whom his seniors would turn in trouble. But he had too much good sense to let his vanity run away with him for long. A careful glance at the circ.u.mstances, and he knew a better reason. Neither of them would have dreamed of coming to him, if he had not betrayed himself so completely to Miles in that one brief interview. If there was one thing of which Miles was quite certain, after that, it was that Brash 'Arry would be guided in this crisis not by pious thoughts of the good of society or his moral duty, but by one simple consideration: what he felt to be in Annet Beck's best interests. If he listened to their arguments, and then gave it as his opinion that they must go to the police, to the police they would go, satisfied that they were doing the best thing for Annet.

And he needn't think he had the advantage of them as a result of this consultation, either; what it meant, he told himself ruefully but honestly, was that they had discovered in him weaknesses which could be exploited. And boys can be ruthless; he knew, it wasn't so long since he'd been one. They might, on the other hand, be capable of astonis.h.i.+ng magnanimity, too. There was stuff in Miles that kept surprising him; his address in this crisis, the direct way he approached his confession, without hesitation or emphasis, the way the 'sir' vanished from his tongue, and the greater, not less, respect and a.s.surance that replaced it. Maybe there were things this boy wouldn't use even against a schoolmaster, distresses he wouldn't exploit, even to ease his own.

'I didn't wait to hear all they have to say, but I've heard enough. I said we ought to come straight to you, and tell at once. So here we are.'

Had his own motives, after all, been quite as single and disinterested as they had calculated? Anything that might uncover the ident.i.ty of Annet's lover he would naturally bring to George at a run, because it might remove the danger that threatened Annet's life. And remove with it, prodded the demon at the back of his mind, the unseen rival, the tenant of that tenacious heart of hers, leaving the way free for another inc.u.mbent. He was afraid to look too closely at this dark reverse of his motive, for fear it should prove to be the main impulse that moved him. My G.o.d, but it was complicated!

'Sit down!' said George, getting up to pour coffee. 'All right, Miles, we're listening. What's on your mind?'

'I've been taking it for granted, of course,' said Miles directly, 'that I'm on the list of suspects, until you check up on our week-end. Because of the last time. I haven't asked Mr Kenyon if he knows about that-'

'I do,' said Tom.

'-but I know you you do, of course. And this is going to sound as if I'm just trying to slide out from under, I realise that, but I can't help it.' do, of course. And this is going to sound as if I'm just trying to slide out from under, I realise that, but I can't help it.'

'Don't let that worry you,' said George. 'We've already checked, you are are out from under. We know where you were on Sat.u.r.day evening, and what you were doing. Just go ahead.' out from under. We know where you were on Sat.u.r.day evening, and what you were doing. Just go ahead.'

'Oh, good, that makes it easier. You see,' said Miles, raising sombre brown eyes to George's face in a straight, unwavering stare, 'I never did plan to go away anywhere, that last time, it wasn't what it looked like at all. I've never said anything before, and I wouldn't now, except that somebody did plan to go away with her then, and it might I don't know, but it might might be the same person who took her away this time. There's been one murder,' said Miles with shattering simplicity, 'and there may well be another. Of Annet herself. If we don't find him.' be the same person who took her away this time. There's been one murder,' said Miles with shattering simplicity, 'and there may well be another. Of Annet herself. If we don't find him.'

The 'we' was significant. He watched George's face, unblinking. 'That's right, isn't it?' he said.

'That's right. Go on.'

'So we have to find him. And the devil of it is that I didn't try to find out anything about him when I had the chance. I never asked any questions. She asked me to help her to get away. She wanted to go to London. I knew she wasn't happy. I knew they didn't want her to go, and it was wrong, in a way, to help her to leave them high and dry. But she asked me, and I did it. She said her parents would be out when she was supposed to go for her piano lesson in the village that Friday afternoon, and she'd have her cases packed, and would I fetch her and take her to the station at Comerbourne. And I said yes. I'd only just pa.s.sed my test about three weeks before, I wasn't supposed to touch the car yet unless Dad was with me. But I said yes, anyhow. And I asked her, did she want me to get her ticket for her, so that she could slip in without being noticed at the booking office. And she said it was two tickets she wanted, not one. Singles.'

He had paled perceptibly, and for once he lowered his eyes, frowning down at his own hands clenched tightly in his lap. But only for a moment, while he re-mustered his forces. 'And I booked them for her,' he said, 'the day before she planned to leave.'

'It sounds,' said George, carefully avoiding all emphasis, 'as though she made fairly shameless use of you.'

'No! No, you don't know! It wasn't like that at all. She was perfectly honest with me. I could have said no. I did what I wanted to do. I helped her, and I didn't ask her anything. If she needed to go, as badly as that, I was for her. She didn't owe me anything. And it was for me to choose what I'd do, and I did choose. I booked the tickets for her, and the next day I skipped my last period, and went down to where Dad leaves the car, just round the corner from his office, in the yard at the back. You can't see it from his window, I knew that, and I had the spare key. I fetched Annet and her two cases from Fairford. Her parents were due home in half an hour, but they wouldn't expect her back from her cla.s.s until six, so she had a couple of hours' grace. I took her to the station. We were a good twenty minutes early, but the train backs in well ahead of time. She said he he would get on the train independently, with only a platform ticket, and then join her on board. So we went in together when there was a slack moment, and I took a platform ticket from the machine to get out again. We wanted both London tickets punched normally, you see, no queries, nothing to wonder about at all.' would get on the train independently, with only a platform ticket, and then join her on board. So we went in together when there was a slack moment, and I took a platform ticket from the machine to get out again. We wanted both London tickets punched normally, you see, no queries, nothing to wonder about at all.'

'And you never asked her outright who he was? Or even looked around to see if anyone was casing the pair of you? Anyone who might be the boy she was going to meet?'

'No,' said Miles, and flamed and paled again in an instant, remembering stresses within himself that had cost him more than his dignity was prepared to admit.

'All right! This isn't a matter of betrayal now,' said George practically, 'it's Annet's safety. I believe you didn't ask, I believe you didn't look for him. Leave it at that for now. Go on.'

'Well, you know how it ended. Or rather you don't, quite. I meant to have the car back in the yard before Dad ever missed it, and ninety-nine days out of a hundred I could have done it, but that was the hundredth. He had a call from a client who was breaking a train journey for one night at the Station Hotel, and had some bit of business he wanted to clear up quickly. And of course there was no car. He thought it had been stolen there were several taken around that time, if you remember, locked and everything some gang going round with a pocketful of keys. Anyhow, he reported it to the police, so after that there wasn't going to be any hus.h.i.+ng up the affair, naturally. And then he took a taxi across to the station, and the first thing he saw was his own car parked down the station approach. Well, of course he tipped off the constable from the corner to keep an eye on it, and he came down to the booking-office and the ticket gate to ask if anyone had seen it driven up and parked there. They know him everybody does. And of course-'

Miles hunched his shoulders under the remembered load.

'That was it! There we were on the platform, with two suitcases, and I had the two tickets in my hand. And he was furious already about the car. I didn't blame him. Actually he was d.a.m.n' decent, considering. But after a bit of publicity like that it was all up with Annet's plans, anyhow. We just let it ride, let him think what he was thinking. We didn't have to consult about it, there wasn't anything else to do. There'd be fuss enough about me, why drag the other fellow into it? All Annet could save out of it was her own secret. Dad said, back to the car, please, and back to the car we went like lambs. He drove out to Fairford, and handed Annet out of the car, and then he looked at the two cases, and neither of them meant a thing to him, but then he never remembers the colour of his own from one year to another. Mummy buys them for him, for presents, when the old ones are getting too battered. He He wouldn't notice. So I handed him one of them, it didn't matter which, and gave Annet the item with one eye, and she caught on at once. Mummy got the other back to her, afterwards.' wouldn't notice. So I handed him one of them, it didn't matter which, and gave Annet the item with one eye, and she caught on at once. Mummy got the other back to her, afterwards.'

'You mean your mother knew knew?' said Tom, startled, his respect for Eve's unwomanly discretion soaring.

'Oh, yes! I don't think it would have taken her long to get the hang of it, anyhow, because Mummy does does notice things. But she opened the case that same night, meaning to put my things away, so the cat was well and truly out of the bag.' notice things. But she opened the case that same night, meaning to put my things away, so the cat was well and truly out of the bag.'

'And she never said a word! Not even to your father?' asked George.

'No, she never did. She could have got me out of some of the muck, of course, but then we'd have had to leave Annet deeper in it, you see, and that was the last thing I wanted. I I was all right, in any case, my parents never really panic. And at least n.o.body was pestering Annet about who, or how, or why, the way things were, because they thought they knew. If somebody'd crossed me out they'd have begun on her in earnest. Mummy let me play it my way, and that way there weren't any questions. But you see,' said Miles, contemplating his involuntary guilt with set jaw and dour eyes, 'that that makes what's happened since partly my doing. I stood in for him, and he stayed a secret. She still had him, they could try again. This time she didn't ask anyone for help, they didn't risk trains or places where there were people who might know them. And this time they pulled it off, if only for a week-end. A trial run for the real flight, maybe. Only this time,' he said with the flat finality of certainty, 'he ran out of funds and killed a man.' was all right, in any case, my parents never really panic. And at least n.o.body was pestering Annet about who, or how, or why, the way things were, because they thought they knew. If somebody'd crossed me out they'd have begun on her in earnest. Mummy let me play it my way, and that way there weren't any questions. But you see,' said Miles, contemplating his involuntary guilt with set jaw and dour eyes, 'that that makes what's happened since partly my doing. I stood in for him, and he stayed a secret. She still had him, they could try again. This time she didn't ask anyone for help, they didn't risk trains or places where there were people who might know them. And this time they pulled it off, if only for a week-end. A trial run for the real flight, maybe. Only this time,' he said with the flat finality of certainty, 'he ran out of funds and killed a man.'

'It doesn't necessarily follow,' said George cautiously, 'though I admit it's a strong probability.'

'I think it does follow. I think if there'd been any doubt, Annet would have spoken. As soon as she knew about the murder, she seems to have known whose life was at stake. Why else should she close up like this?'

'Even Annet could be wrong,' said George. 'She never gave you any clue? You never noticed anything? Saw her with anyone special?'

Miles shook his head decidedly. 'Maybe I was trying not to, I don't know. I've tried all this evening to dredge up something that might be useful. But what I have is only deduction. He was from somewhere round here. That's certain, because of the tickets. She wasn't lying to me about that, I'm sure, he was going to board the train in Comerbourne. That time they were bound for London, this time it was Birmingham. That all ties in. She's never been away from Comerford for long, it's far more likely she'd get involved with someone here, someone she saw often, someone close at home. And someone hopelessly unsuitable,' he said, watching George's face steadily. 'Even more unsuitable than I am now. I wasn't warned off until after that fiasco. This one, whoever he is, would never have been allowed near her at all. That's plain. There was a young fellow who drives long-distance lorries. Good-looking chap who danced-'

'We know about him,' said George.

'Not that I know anything against him, mind you, only that they wouldn't even have considered him for her. Or there's a clerk from Langfords' drawing-office, who used to make trips to London for the firm sometimes. He took her out once or twice, but there are tales about him, and her mother didn't like him, and soon put a stop to it. Someone like that fits the picture. Someone who travels a fair amount and knows his way around. Because she she doesn't really. With all her a.s.surance, and everything, she's a milk-white innocent.' doesn't really. With all her a.s.surance, and everything, she's a milk-white innocent.'

The urgent, practical, purposeful level of his voice never changed, but suddenly it was sharp with an unbearable concentration of beauty and longing, as though he had charmed Annet into the middle of their close circle. There pa.s.sed from one to another of them the electric tension of awareness, and every face was taut and still, charged with private anguish. Tom stared sightlessly before him with eyes that had reversed their vision, and were struggling with the uncontrollable apparitions within him. Dominic watched Miles protectively and jealously, and kept his lips closed very firmly upon his personal preoccupations. George saw them momentarily isolated hopelessly one from another. Loneliness is the human condition; we grasp at alleviations where we can find them, but most of the time we have to get by with tenuous illusions of communion. Only families, the lucky ones, and friends, the rare and gifted ones, sometimes grow together and inhabit shared worlds too securely for dispossession.

'And then,' pursued Miles, too intent upon his hunt to be aware of any checks and dismays, even his own, 'there's the matter of her reappearance. n.o.body seems to have realised how odd that is, and how suggestive.'

'And what do you know about her reappearance? There was nothing in the paper about that.'

'I know, but Mr Kenyon began asking us some pretty significant questions the day after half-term, about where we'd been about where I'd I'd been,' amended Miles more precisely, 'over the week-end, and about the cart-road at the back of the Hallowmount. And Mrs Beck had been on the telephone to my mother, fis.h.i.+ng about my whereabouts, too. So we knew there was something wrong at Fairford that been,' amended Miles more precisely, 'over the week-end, and about the cart-road at the back of the Hallowmount. And Mrs Beck had been on the telephone to my mother, fis.h.i.+ng about my whereabouts, too. So we knew there was something wrong at Fairford that I I should naturally be blamed for unless I had an alibi, and that the track behind the Hallowmount had something to do with it. It should naturally be blamed for unless I had an alibi, and that the track behind the Hallowmount had something to do with it. It had had to be Annet, or why get after me? But Mr Kenyon said, when I asked him, that Annet was safe at home. So why all this about the road at the back of the hill, unless they knew she'd gone or come back that way? But that's not all. The grave-vine's got it now, with tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs. Putting all the bits together, and adding what they fancy, as usual. They're saying Annet was found wandering on the Hallowmount at night, and swore she hadn't been anywhere, that she'd only been for a walk and was on her way home. They say she'd been lost to the world for five days under the Hallowmount, like those village girls in the eighteenth century, and remembered nothing about it. They say it in an ambiguous sort of way, if you know what I mean, half believing it really happened, half-sn.i.g.g.e.ring over it as a tall tale invented to cover what she was really up to all that time. Round here they're expert in having it both ways.' He looked from George to Tom, and back to George again. 'Is it true?' to be Annet, or why get after me? But Mr Kenyon said, when I asked him, that Annet was safe at home. So why all this about the road at the back of the hill, unless they knew she'd gone or come back that way? But that's not all. The grave-vine's got it now, with tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs. Putting all the bits together, and adding what they fancy, as usual. They're saying Annet was found wandering on the Hallowmount at night, and swore she hadn't been anywhere, that she'd only been for a walk and was on her way home. They say she'd been lost to the world for five days under the Hallowmount, like those village girls in the eighteenth century, and remembered nothing about it. They say it in an ambiguous sort of way, if you know what I mean, half believing it really happened, half-sn.i.g.g.e.ring over it as a tall tale invented to cover what she was really up to all that time. Round here they're expert in having it both ways.' He looked from George to Tom, and back to George again. 'Is it true?'

'Substantially, yes. Mr Kenyon saw her climb over the Hallowmount on Thursday, and he and her father went up there on Tuesday night, and met her just coming over the crest.'