“Out with it!”

“T-treading on my foot and holding hands in the pictures, and k-kissing me good-night. Oh, Johnny, I didn’t like it- I didn’t really!”

He continued to hold her at arm’s length and to watch her. She couldn’t ever tell him about the time when Sid had really frightened her. And right on the top of her thinking about it Johnny was saying,

“What did he do to scare you like this? You’re frightened to death of him, and I’m going to know why!”

She couldn’t tell him why. It had frightened her too much -the little dark alley between the houses and no windows looking that way, and Sid with his knife out and the point sharp against her throat. If she moved, it would go right in and she would be dead. It tickled against her skin, and he was telling her what he would do to her if she split on him. “Near or far, I’d get at you and I’d do you in. You wouldn’t know when it was coming. You’d be walking along feeling safe, and all at once the knife would be in your back and you’d be dead. Dead girls tell no tales.” That was what he had said. And then he had laughed and put the knife in his pocket and kissed her the way she didn’t like to be kissed, holding her right close up against him and almost stopping her breath. She could never tell Johnny about that. And it was all because she had asked a question. There had been a policeman shot and Sid had been going on about it, saying the police were too nosey by half and a good job if one of them got what was coming to him. There was a jeweller’s shop that had been broken into and she and Sid were larking-just a bit of a joke it was, him saying she was to give him a kiss, and her saying she wouldn’t and pushing him away, and just for fun she put her hand in his inside pocket. It was his wallet she meant to snatch, but her hand came back with a little parcel in it instead, and when he tried to get it away from her the paper tore and something fell down between them. Too dark for either of them to see where it was, but Mirrie found it. Her hand came right down on it when she stooped, and she didn’t need a light to tell her what it was! A ring with three big stones, and she slipped it on her finger and wished she could see what it looked like there. That was when she asked that question, pleased and laughing in the dark alley with the ring on her hand. And not thinking anything until the words were out, not thinking anything at all until she heard herself say, “Ooh-that’s a nice ring, and it fits me!” And then she said, “Where did you get it, Sid, and is it for me?” That was when he reached out and caught her in that hard grip and set the knife against her throat. She couldn’t ever tell Johnny about that.

She leaned away from him as far as she could, and he saw the terror in her eyes. He couldn’t go on-not when she looked at him like that. He had always had a soft spot for anything that was frightened or hurt. He let go of Mirrie’s hands and pulled her into his arms.

“Don’t look at me like that, silly little thing! I’m not going to hurt you, I’m going to look after you. I don’t care what anyone has made you do. Do you hear-I don’t care. If this chap has been frightening you, I’ll knock his block off. If he’s blackmailing you you’d better tell me all about it. If you’re in a jam we are in it together. And I’ll get you out- I promise I’ll get you out.”

When he held her like that Mirrie felt it was really true. All the time she was remembering about Sid and the knife she had been getting colder and colder, and stiffer and stiffer. She couldn’t feel her feet and she couldn’t feel her hands. She could only feel Sid’s knife against her throat. But now, with Johnny holding her close, the stiffness and the coldness were going out of her. She was warm again, and she was safe. Sid and the knife were a long way off. Johnny would keep her safe. She pressed her face down into the hollow of his shoulder and told him about the dark alley, and the ring, and the knife that had pricked her throat.

WHEN MISS SILVER got back to Field End she was in some doubt as to what she should do next. She was, as a rule, a person of quick decisions, but at this moment she was aware of two opposing impulses, and she felt obliged to give each of them her most serious attention before complying with either. On the one hand, she could not minimize the importance of what she had heard from Maggie Bell, and she felt that no time should be lost in passing this information on to Frank Abbott. On the other, it might be desirable for her to check over with Mirrie the two telephone conversations which Maggie had overheard. The third conversation, the one in which Jonathan Field had been a participant, must rest upon Maggie’s word alone, but the talk before the dance and the call made by Mirrie herself at a quarter past eight on Tuesday evening, might, and probably would, confirm the fact that the other person on the line was Sid Turner. If Mirrie were to be unexpectedly confronted with these two calls, Miss Silver did not believe that she would be able to persist in a denial of her part in them, or of Sid Turner’s identity. She had reached this point and had almost determined to seek an interview with Mirrie, when it became clear to her that she would not be justified in doing so. Frank Abbott was in charge of the case, and if Mirrie were to be questioned he had a right to be present.

She knew that he intended to drop in for tea at Deepside with his cousin Cicely and her husband, and she felt reluctant to disturb this brief family reunion. She would not even have known about it if Monica Abbott had not mentioned that she and Colonel Abbott had been invited, yet the more she thought about the matter the greater was her sense of urgency. In the end she drew the study telephone towards her and asked for Deeping 3.

It was Cicely’s voice which came to her along the wire.

“Oh, Miss Silver, is it you?”

“Yes, my dear.”

“What can I do for you?”

Miss Silver slipped into the schoolroom French which it was her custom to employ when she had anything of a delicate nature to communicate.

“I think it will be better if we do not mention any names.”

Cicely continued to use her mother tongue.

“What is it?”

“Is your cousin with you?”

“Yes. You are not going to snatch him away, are you?”

Miss Silver coughed in a slightly reproving manner. If Maggie Bell were listening she would certainly be able to put two and two together. She said in French,

“Will you tell him that I should like to see him as soon as possible? That is all, my dear. Goodbye.”

Out at Deepside Frank laughed, shrugged, and said he supposed he must go. Rabbits from hats were no novelty where Miss Silver was concerned. He had his tea and departed, wondering just what she had turned up this time.

Miss Silver had also been having tea. It was rather an odd meal, with Johnny in high spirits, Mirrie happy and relaxed, Georgina very strained and pale, and Mrs. Fabian just her usual self. She said she couldn’t think what had come over Anthony.

“So unlike him to go out for the whole day and not mention it to anyone. You are sure he didn’t say anything about it to you, Georgina?”

“No, Cousin Anna, he didn’t.”

Mrs. Fabian said,

“Very strange indeed.” She turned to Miss Silver. “He is usually so considerate. And of course it does make a difference about meals. One more or one less is bound to make a difference. I can’t remember who it was who said, ‘Evil is wrought by want of thought as well as want of heart,’ but I remember being made to write it out twenty times when I had forgotten to shut the conservatory door and a plant my father was very fond of got a chill in the night.”

Johnny burst out laughing.

“Darling, is one of us to have a chill because Anthony hasn’t said whether he will be in to Sunday supper?”