Hubbard, you are wonderful! I say to myself again and agwhat should I do without Mrs. Hubbard? I rely on you utterly. You are a wonderful wonderful woman." coneaAfter the powder, the jam," said Mrs. Hubbard.

"What is that?" "Don't worry. I'll do what I can." She left the room cutting short a gushing speech of thanks.

Muttering to herself "Wasting my time-what a maddening woman she is!" she hurried along the passage and into her own sitting room.

But there was to be no peace for Mrs. Hubbard as yet. A tall figure rose to her feet as Mrs. Hubbard entered and said, "I should be glad to speak to you for a few minutes, please." "Of course, Elizabeth." Mrs. Hubbard was rather surprised. Elizabeth Johnston was a girl from the West Indies who was studying law. She was a hard worker, ambitious, who kept very much to herself. She had always seemed particularly well balanced and competent, and Mrs.

Hubbard had always regarded her as one of the most satisfactory students in the Hostel.

She was perfectly controlled now, but Mrs.

Hubbard caught the slight tremor in her voice although the dark features were quite impassive.

"Is something the matter?" "Yes. Will you come with me to my room, please?" "Just a moment." Mrs. Hubbard threw off her coat and gloves and then followed the girl out of the room and up the next flight of stairs. The girl had a room on the top floor. She opened the door and went across to a table near the window.

"Here are the notes of my work," she said. "This represents several months of hard study. You see what has been done?" Mrs. Hubbard caught her breath with a slight gasp.

Ink had been spilled on the table. It had run all over the papers, soaking them through. Mrs.

Hubbard touched it with her finger tip. It was still wet.

She said, knowing the question to be foolish as she asked it, "You didn't spill the ink yourself?" "No. It was done whilst I was out." "Mrs. Biggs, do you think" Mrs. Biggs was the cleaning woman who looked after the top floor bedrooms.

"It was not Mrs. Biggs. It was not even my own ink. That is here on the shelf by my bed. It has not been touched. It was done by someone who brought ink here and did it deliberately." Mrs. Hubbard was shocked.

"What a very wicked-and cruel thing to do." "Yes, it is a bad thing." The girl spoke quite quietly, but Mrs.

Hubbard did not make the mistake of underrating her feelings.

"Well, Elizabeth, I hardly know what to say. I am shocked, badly shocked, and I shall do my utmost to find out who did this wicked malicious thing. You've no ideas yourself as to that?" The girl replied at once.

"This is green ink, you saw that." "Yes, I noticed that." "It is not very common, this green ink. I know one person here who uses it. Nigel Chapman." "Nigel? Do you think Nigel would do a thing like that?" "I should not have thought so-no. But he writes his letters and his notes with green ink." "I shall have to ask a lot of questions. I'm very sorry, Elizabeth, that such a thing should happen in this house and I can only tell you that I shall do my best to get to the bottom of it." "Thank you, Mrs. Hubbard. There have been-other things, have there not?" "Yes-er-yes." Mrs. Hubbard left the room and started towards the stairs. But she stopped suddenly before proceeding down and instead went along the passage to a door at the end of the corridor. She knocked and the voice of Miss Sally Finch bid her enter.

The room was a pleasant one and Sally Finch herself, a cheerful redhead, was a pleasant person.

She was writing on a pad and looked up with a bulging cheek. She held out an open box of sweets and said indistinctly, "Candy from home. Have some." "Thank you, Sally. Not just now. I'm rather upset." She paused. "Have you heard what's happened to Elizabeth Johnston?" "What's happened to Black Bess?" The nickname was an affectionate one and had been accepted as such by the girl herself.

Mrs. Hubbard described what had happened.- Sally showed every sign of sympathetic anger.

"I'll say that's a mean thing to do. I wouldn't believe anyone would do a thing like that to our Bess. Everybody likes her. She's quiet and doesn't get around much, or join in, but I'm sure there's no one who dislikes her." "That's what I should have said." "Well-it's all of a piece, isn't it, with the other thineaeaS. That's why-was "That's why what?" Mrs. Hubbard asked as the girl stopped abruptly.

Sally said slowly, "That's why I'm getting out of here. Did Mrs.

Nick tell you?" "Yes. She was very upset about it. Seemed to think you hadn't given her the real reason." "Well, I didn't. No point in making her go up in smoke. You know what she's like. But that's the reason, ri-lit enoueaeahid. I just don't like what's going on here. Tt was odd losing my shoe, and then Valerie's scarf being all cut to bits-and Len's rucksack… it wasn't so much things being pinched-after all, that may happen any time-it's not nice but it's roughly normal-but this other isn't." She paused for a moment, smiling, and then suddenly grinned. "Akibombo's scared," she said. "He's always very superior and civilised-but there's a good old West African belief in Magic very close to the surface." "Tehah!" said Mrs. Hubbard crossly.

"I've no patience with superstitious nonsense.

Just some ordinary human beings making a nuisance of themselves. That's all there is to it." Sally's mouth curved up in a wide cat-like grin.

"The emphasis," she said, "is on ordinary.

I've a sort of feeling that there's a person in this house who isn't ordinary!" Mrs. Hubbard went on down the stairs. She turned into the students" common room on the ground floor. There were four people in the room. Valerie Hobhouse, prone on a sofa with her narrow, elegant feet stuck up over the arm of it; Nigel Chapman sitting at a table with a heavy book open in front of him; Patricia Lane leaning against the mantelpiece and a girl in a mackintosh who had just come in and who was pulling off a woolly cap as Mrs. Hubbard entered. She was a stocky, fair girl with brown eyes set wide apart and a mouth that was usually just a little open so that she seemed perpetually startled.

Valerie, removing a cigarette from her mouth, said in a lazy drawling voice: "Hullo, Ma, have you administered soothing syrup to the old devil, our revered proprietress?" Patricia Lane said: "Has she been on the war path?" "And how!" said Valerie and chuckled.

"Something very unpleasant has happened," said Mrs. Hubbard. "Nigel, I want you to help me." "Me, Ma'am?" Nigel looked up a-t her and shut his book. His thin, malicious face was suddenly illumined by a mischievous but surprisingly sweet smile. "What have I done?" "Nothing, I hope," said Mrs. Hubbard. "But ink has been deliberately and maliciously spilt all over Elizabeth Johnston's notes and it's green ink. You write with green ink, Nigel." He stared at her, his smile disappearing.

"Yes, I use green ink." "Horrid stuff," said Patricia. "I wish you wouldn't, Nigel. I've always told you I think it's horribly affected of you." "I like being affected," said Nigel. "Lilac ink would be even better, I think. I must try and get some. But are you serious, Mum? About the sabotage, I mean?" "Yes, I am serious. Was it your doing, Nigel?" "No, of course not. I like annoying people, as you kno,, but I'd never do a filthy trick like that-and certainly not to Black Bess who minds her own business in a way that's an example to some people I could mention. Where is that ink of mine? I filled my pen yesterday evening, I remember. I usually keep it on the shelf over there." He sprang up and went across the room. "Here it is." He picked the bottle up, then whistled. "You're right. The bottle's nearly empty. It should be practically full." The girl in a mackintosh gave a little gasp.

"Oh dear," she said. "Oh dear. I don't like it-was Nigel wheeled at her accusingly.