And she herself had walked into the trap.

Anne got to her feet. She must go down. It was the most difficult thing she had ever done in her life. It had got to be done. She must go down and eat her breakfast, and she mustn’t show that she had remembered. She wondered at their bringing her here, but they had got to take her somewhere, and they didn’t know that it would mean anything to her. They didn’t know that her memory would come back. She mustn’t let them know about that. She mustn’t stay up here any longer, or they would get suspicious. She must watch every word, every look. She must watch her very thoughts. She felt a sudden rush of courage and of hope. Without giving herself time to think or be afraid she went down the stairs and into the dining-room.

Ross was watching the door. He said, ‘You’ve been a long time,’ and he said it in a complaining sort of voice.

She said, ‘I felt queer. I’m all right now. I think I want my breakfast.’

Maxton was eating hot buttered toast. He waved it at her and said, ‘We’re not starving you. Come along and have breakfast.’

It was a curious meal. There was no attempt to make her take anything apart from the general stock. She could cut from the loaf and she could boil herself an egg. She could drink tea out of the teapot and milk from the milk-jug. She made a good meal, and felt better for it. What next?

What was their plan? They must have one. She had eaten in silence, but when she had finished she pushed back her chair and got up.

‘Why have you brought me here?’ she said.

Maxton swung round to look at her. He did not get up. She would not look at him. She looked instead at Ross Cranston-her cousin Ross Forest Cranston. That was one thing that she had-she knew that Ross was her cousin, she knew that his middle name was Forest, and he didn’t know that she knew these things. She must keep her head. They mustn’t know that she had got her memory back. It was dangerous enough for them to know who she was, but once they knew that she had got her memory back it would be the end-for her.

All these thoughts were in her mind together. They were quite distinct and clear. They took no time at all. They were there.

It was Maxton who spoke. She did not look at him, but she knew that he was smiling as he said, ‘Brought you here? Now I wonder why we did.’

She put up a hand and passed it across her eyes.

‘Why did you?’ she said, and her voice trembled in spite of herself. It wasn’t deliberate, but she thought afterwards that she couldn’t have done better. The thought slid into her mind and out again.

Maxton laughed.

‘We thought it would be a nice quiet place for you to make up your mind in. It’s the fortunate girl you are, you know, to have two men to choose from and perfect peace and quiet to do it in.’

She spoke quickly, unguardedly.

‘What do you mean?’

She was looking at him now. Her eyes hated what they saw. He smiled, and it was all she could do not to throw anything she could reach at him. If she were to give way to that, it would be the end, and she knew it. Their eyes met, clashed. She looked away. She looked at Ross. He sat sullen, not looking at her, and drew on the tablecloth with his fork. She spoke to him.

‘What does he mean?’

But it was Maxton who answered her.

‘I mean that you’re a lucky girl. You’ve got a choice. You can take the one of us you like best, and after a month’s honeymoon, or maybe longer if you’re obstinate, we’ll get a special licence, and we’ll make it all quite legal and moral for you in your aunt’s own parish church. Whichever of us you choose, he’ll be man enough to see you don’t change your mind. Now which is it to be-your cousin Ross or myself? You can have the day to make up your mind. And it’s no good thinking you can run away, because we’ll both be here waiting anxiously for your decision.’

She went back a step, her two hands at her breast, her eyes on Ross. He was jabbing the fork into the cloth. She said faintly, ‘What does he mean?’

Ross turned away from her, turned to Maxton and said, ‘I told you she doesn’t know.’

Anne held on to herself. Of the two she was much, much less afraid of Ross. It might be possible-she didn’t know… She said in a wondering, frightened tone, ‘Are you my cousin?’ and he said, ‘Yes.’ She turned to face him. ‘What does he mean?’

Ross didn’t answer. He was looking at Maxton. She moved back a step. Maxton nodded carelessly.

‘Go along and think it over,’ he said. ‘You can have your cousin Ross, or you can have me. That’s more choice than many would give you, and more choice than many would get. You can have him, or you can have me, and you can have a day to think it over-not any longer. If you don’t choose, we’ll toss for you and let the best man win.’

She went backwards step by step as he spoke. He filled her with such fear and disgust that she could not be sure that she would not faint. She looked at Ross and saw that there was no help in him. There was no help in anyone except herself. She reached the door and put out her hand behind her to open it. She went out without turning, and so to the stairs. Then she turned with a slow and stiff motion and went up to her room and locked herself in.

It’s about forty miles,’ said Frank Abbott. ’There’s no particular reason why they should be there, you know.’

‘There’s no particular reason why they should be anywhere,’ said Jim. He stood looking out of the window in Frank Abbott’s room, plainly beyond all thought or reason, actuated solely by a frantic desire for action.

Frank turned to Miss Silver. She sat very upright at the far side of his table. She wore the black coat which had endured for many years and would not be discarded whilst it endured. Her neat, pale features were perfectly composed, the lips firmly set, the eyes attentive. The hands in their black gloves were crossed firmly on the handle of a worn black handbag. Her second-best hat of black felt, adorned by a large bow of black and purple ribbon, was tilted a little more over her face than she usually wore it. To Frank Abbott her appearance and demeanour were the clearest indications that she had made up her mind. He might go, or he might stay, but Miss Silver was going down to Swan Eaton. All that depended upon him was whether she went alone, or whether she went accompanied and protected by the forces of the law. He said, ‘I suppose you have made up your mind?’

Miss Silver replied in a most decorous manner.

‘I believe that it would be a good plan to go down to Swan Eaton.’

‘And suppose they are not there?’

‘That we can consider if the occasion offers.’

‘You really think-’

‘I think that there are indications in that direction. I think that we must explore them. And I think that there is no time to be lost.’

Jim swung round on them.

‘Do you realise what may be happening whilst we are talking? Either you go at once, or I go alone! They may be murdering her!’

Miss Silver rose to her feet.

‘It would be better if you would come with us, Frank,’ she said, ‘but Mr Fancourt and I are leaving immediately.’

Frank Abbott nodded.

‘All right, you win. Give me a quarter of an hour, and I’ll collect Hubbard and a car.’

It was a little more than a quarter of an hour before they started. The clock on Frank’s mantelpiece stood, in fact, at eleven-thirty before they left the room. Jim endured. Every moment was an hour of torment. Whilst they fleeted away the time-time went on. It passed-it would not come again. What was happening happened. The dead would not come back to life. They were gone. Jim stood at the window and stared out with eyes that saw nothing. ‘Anne-Anne- Anne-Anne!’ He half cried out her name. He heard nothing else, was aware of nothing else. Time went by.