The bottom part of the paper was torn away. On an isolated scrap was the name-“Richard.”

Miss Silver said briskly, “Who has a typewriter?”

With her eyes on that last fragment, Rachel Treherne said,

“Richard.”

“Do you know if this was typed on his machine? Are there any peculiarities which you could recognize?”

Rachel said, “Yes.” She put her finger on the first word. “The capital B-it always blurs like that.” Her eyes went back to the fragment with the name on it. “Is that the signature?”

Miss Silver said, “It might be.”

Rachel spoke in a dazed voice.

“Richard went after her… If he wrote this… Where did you find the pieces?”

“In the bed-clothes. She got the note. She tore it up. She was in great distress-probably her hand was shaking. The bits dropped and scattered. Some were on the floor. She managed to destroy the part that mattered most. We don’t know where they were to meet. Then she hurried on her things. I found the cupboard door open. A dress had fallen from its hanger. That drawer was pulled out. The pin-cushion was on the floor, the bed left anyhow, the lunch-tray not touched. You can see what a hurry she was in.”

Rachel’s heart cried out in her. Caroline-in such a desperate hurry to be gone! And where was she going? Where were they all going?

She straightened up slowly, and spoke as if answering her own thoughts.

“I am going after her. Cosmo thinks she will be at his flat. He says she has a key. They are like uncle and niece, you know.”

“And is Mr. Frith driving you?” said Miss Silver.

“No-I am going with Mr. Brandon.”

There was a slight, definite pause. Was Miss Silver going to warn her too? If they all warned her she would still go with Gale Brandon.

But Miss Silver did not appear to have any warning to give. She said thoughtfully,

“Quite so. And Mr. Frith stays here?”

“No. He is going up to town to see a friend who is ill.”

“Can you give me the telephone number of his flat? If Miss Caroline is there-”

“No, no, you mustn’t ring her up-it would be fatal.”

Miss Silver detained her with a touch on the arm.

“Suppose she is not there-is there anywhere else she might go-to talk things over?”

Rachel hesitated.

“She actually spoke of going to town. I think she would go to the flat. Cosmo seemed sure-”

“Miss Treherne, is there anywhere else-any lonelier place than a London flat?”

“There’s Cosmo’s cottage. I did think of that, but he was so sure-and she wouldn’t go there by herself. It’s- very lonely. Oh, no, she’d never go there alone.”

“She was not to be alone. You forget that. She was to meet the person who wrote that letter, and talk things over. Where is this cottage?”

“At Brookenden-about fifteen miles from Ledlington.”

“In the direction of London?”

“No, the other way. The cottage is a mile out of the village. Cosmo goes down there to paint. When he’s not there it’s shut up. Caroline wouldn’t go there-she didn’t like it.”

“If she did go there, could she get in?”

“Oh, yes. He hides the key in the tool-shed. There’s nothing there to steal, you know.”

“Is there a telephone?”

“Yes-he had one put in. I can give you the number. But she wouldn’t be there yet. Miss Silver, I’m sure she wouldn’t go there.”

“If you will give me the address and the telephone number-”

She was offered pencil and paper. She scribbled quickly- Pewitt’s Corner, Brookenden.

Miss Silver bent her brows.

“A very curious name.”

Rachel turned in the doorway.

“It’s a corruption of the French puits. There was a well there, and the house was built over it. I’ve always thought it must make it horribly damp. And Caroline says it gives her the creeps-that’s why I feel sure she wouldn’t go there. I’ll ring you up if she’s at the flat.”

Miss Silver stood looking at the piece of paper in her hand.

The car moved away. Rachel Treherne leaned back with relief. She had taken her way, and she was past caring where it led her. The strain lessened and she could relax. Whincliff Edge was left behind and its problems with it. London lay ahead, and problems there to meet her. But between Whincliff and London for the space of an hour or two there was only herself and Gale, in a swift moving world of their own. All that mattered was that they were here together-shut off-shut in.

As they turned out of the drive on to the Ledlington road, she looked at him, and found pleasure in the strong set of his head. Everything about him was strong. She thought, “If he hadn’t been so strong, I shouldn’t be here now.” And that gave her pleasure too. She said, without any effort at all,

“Are you Gale Brent?”

The road was empty. He took a look at her and smiled with his eyes.

“Now fancy your asking me that! Who’s been talking?”

“Cosmo. It was in a letter that my mother wrote to his-Gale Brent. Nanny only remembers him as Sonny. Are you Gale Brent?”

He laughed a little. It was a very unembarrassed laugh.

“I’m Gale Brandon sure enough. That’s my real name. I haven’t come courting you under false pretences. At least-well, in a way I suppose I have. But I was going to tell you-I just wanted a clear start. You know, I fell for you the moment we met-again. And I was going to tell you all about it as soon as I’d got you safe.” Her heart beat hard. He put out his left hand and dropped it on her knee, covering both of hers. “Have I got you?”

She said rather inaudibly, “You seem to think so.”

The hand closed in a harsh grip that made her gasp.

“It’s for you to say-at least that seems to be the idea. I don’t know that I’m dead struck on it. I’ll get you one way or another, but”-his grip tightened-“you can say it if you like.”

Rachel found herself laughing without much breath.

“And if I don’t like?”

His voice changed, too on a boyish, coaxing note.

“Maybe I’d like to hear you say it after all. I’ve got an idea it would sound good. Have I got you?”

Rachel said, “Yes,” and the hand that was gripping hers let go and came about her shoulders. The car described a rather odd curve and narrowly missed the ditch. The hand came back to the wheel, and the voice said ruefully,

“That was a bad break. I’ll have to put off making love to you till we get some place. It’s liable to go to my head, and I wouldn’t like to get sent to jail for disorderly driving, or being drunk in charge of a car, or anything like that. I’d better tell you about being Gale Brent.”

Rachel said, “Oh!” Her mind felt perfectly light, bright, and empty-a house stripped but not yet garnished. The light was very bright indeed. She heard Gale say, “I’d better tell you about being Gale Brent,” and in that light, empty house which was her mind she thought, “Then I’d better listen.”

He said, in the voice she knew best,

“Well, it’s this way. My father’s name was Sterling Brandon. He quarrelled with his father about marrying my mother. So then he went away-cut the old folks right out-didn’t write-didn’t so much as tell them when I came along-wouldn’t use the name. They must have said things he couldn’t get over. Anyhow he called himself Sterling Brent. My mother died when I was about four years old, and that made things worse. He kind of set up the quarrel for a monument to her. Well, about a year after that he met your father. They were partners for a bit- something like a year, I think it was-and that’s when I got acquainted with you. I’d never seen such a little baby before. I can remember standing there looking at you and wondering if you were real. I expect I fell for you then. Your mother was mighty good to me, but I never rightly got on with Mabel-I didn’t like her, and she didn’t like me. But I was mighty happy. And then it all came to an end. My father quarrelled with your father, and I’m bound to confess it’s the likeliest thing in the world that it was my father’s fault. The fact is he’d a genius for quarrelling-couldn’t see anyone else’s point of view, and always thought the other man must be disagreeing with him out of spite. Then he’d go all hot and kick up a fuss, and the next thing would be you couldn’t see him for the dust. Well, we went off to some other place-I forgot where. Then he picked up a paper one day and saw that his father had had a stroke, so he went back. The old man was head of a big real estate business, and as he didn’t live long enough for them to get quarrelling again, my father came in for everything. So now you know.”