by Clara Benson
‘Oh, you wanted to speak to Florrie, did you?’ said Hesketh. ‘Well, I dare say you’ll find her about the place later on.’
The lunch-bell rang, and Angela steeled herself against the school’s Sunday offering—which, however, was not as bad as she had feared. There was little conversation at lunch. The teachers had of course heard the news, but would not talk about it before the girls. All except Miss Fazackerley were there, for Miss Bell wanted to speak to them after lunch in view of the exceptional events. Mr. Welland had therefore left his mother and Mr. Penkridge his wife to lonely Sunday dinners, and both had come up to the school to see what Miss Bell had to say on the matter, not without some grumbling on the part of Mr. Welland, who hated any inconvenience to himself and saw no reason why he should put himself out, missing princess or no missing princess.
Angela pushed a little heap of under-cooked carrots around her plate and glanced about, wondering whether any of the teachers had had a hand in the affair. It seemed unlikely that Edwards had acted alone, if he was indeed the man she had seen the night before with Irina. But which of them, if any, was the culprit? Old Mr. Penkridge, whose eyes twinkled with good humour and whose moustache wagged up and down as he ate? Impossible, surely. Miss Finch, casting shrewd and suspicious looks in Angela’s direction? Perhaps, although her strict and unbending manner seemed more suited to the squashing of unruly schoolgirls than the overthrow of a monarchy. Mlle. Delacroix? She was certainly an independent spirit, and a woman to follow her own path in life, but was she a criminal? Then there was Mr. Welland, who sat at the end of the table, his nose in the air, quite at ease with himself and his own superiority. Angela had not taken him for a man of great intellect, but of all the teachers she thought he was the most likely to be influenced by the prospect of a benefit to himself—money, presumably, in this case. She could quite well believe that he might have been persuaded to trick Irina into leaving the school in exchange for financial reward. And another thing: he had been to Russia recently. Had he perhaps been approached there? She remembered what Henry Jameson had said about the danger from Russia. It would certainly be in that country’s interests to place a spy at the school. Her gaze then fell on Miss Devlin, who had been subdued all morning following her adventure of the night before. A greater picture of embarrassed innocence could not present itself, and yet it could not be denied that the Games mistress had played an important part in allowing Irina to escape, with her well-placed blow to Mr. Hesketh’s jaw. She had claimed it was an honest mistake, but was that true? Perhaps she had done it deliberately in order to gain more time.
After lunch, they all gathered in the staff common-room to wait for Miss Bell and Mr. Hesketh, who had not been in the dining-room. Mr. Welland threw himself languidly into a chair and yawned.
‘And so I understand our esteemed Latin master is in fact a spy,’ he said. ‘How simply thrilling. Is he going to come and interrogate us now as to what we were doing last night? I take it we are all suspected of having had a hand in kidnapping this tiresome girl.’
‘This tiresome girl, as you call her, may well have been taken by people who intend to hurt her,’ said Miss Finch, eyeing him with disfavour. ‘I know you object to having your time off interrupted, Mr. Welland, but I should have thought you might find it in your heart to feel a little sympathy at least—if only because if any harm does come to her, then the reputation of the school is likely to suffer and you may find yourself without a position.’
‘N-hem! The reputation of the school is of quite secondary importance at present,’ said the kind-hearted Mr. Penkridge. ‘This poor girl, Irina. I hate to think of her having been taken away from her friends. And so soon after her father was grievously injured, too! She must be worried sick about him, and missing him terribly.’
‘If she is still alive,’ said Mam’selle, in a matter-of-fact voice.
There was a chorus of protest and she shrugged.
‘We must accept the possibility that she may have been killed,’ she said. ‘Those who murder for political motives are ruthless and cannot be reasoned with, and it is useless to pretend otherwise. As Mr. Penkridge says, they have already made an attempt on Irina’s father, the Grand Duke. It is nothing to them if they kill a young girl too. Of course, I hope that she is still alive, but I am not so stupid as to deny other possibilities.’
‘Oh dear,’ bleated Miss Devlin unhappily. ‘There’s going to be the most enormous scandal, isn’t there? And it will be all my fault. It was I who stopped Mr. Hesketh from running after Irina and catching her.’
‘She had already run outside by that time,’ said Angela. ‘If anyone is at fault it is I. I could easily have followed her into the grounds, but I went back to get help instead. It’s easy enough to blame ourselves, Miss Devlin, but neither of us was to know what would happen.’
‘By the way, a little bird tells me that Miss Fazackerley may know something about all this,’ said Mr. Welland. ‘Where is she, by the way? Isn’t she back yet?’
‘She ought to have returned by now,’ said Miss Finch, looking at her watch. ‘Perhaps she caught the slow train.’
Angela frowned as a wisp of thought darted through her head and disappeared.
‘What does Miss Fazackerley know?’ said Mam’selle with interest.
‘Mr. Hesketh can tell you more about that,’ said Mr. Welland. ‘As can the man he has locked up in his room.’
Not all had heard this part of the story, and so Angela now explained what had happened.
‘Miss Fazackerley never mentioned having a brother,’ said Miss Finch. ‘It all sounded very suspicious to me when I heard about it this morning. I think he must be lying.’
‘Not necessarily,’ said Angela. ‘I have—er—seen them together, so it’s certain that they know one another, at least.’
Just then, Miss Bell arrived, accompanied by Mr. Hesketh.
‘Has there been any sign of the young lady?’ said Mr. Penkridge immediately.
‘No,’ said Hesketh. ‘I have heard from the police, however. They are at present conducting a search all the way along the coast, but of course there’s no saying that the fugitives mightn’t have turned inland after a while. There are many country roads in which to get lost. It all depends on where they wanted to go—whether they intended to remain here in Norfolk or perhaps spirit the Princess back to London and take her abroad somewhere.’
‘Surely they wouldn’t need to take her back to London if they wanted to go abroad,’ observed Angela. ‘There must be lots of harbours along the North coast here from which they could sail if they wished.’
‘Yes, there are,’ said Hesketh. ‘Most of them are too small to take a boat big enough to cross to Holland or Germany, for example, but there’s no saying that the kidnappers didn’t have one waiting a little further out to sea. There are lots of little fishing-craft hereabouts, and it would be easy enough to reach a bigger boat that way. The sea is a big enough place to hide anybody.’
He did not say that it was also a good place to dispose of a dead body, but it was evident he was thinking it.
‘Then there is no possibility of getting her back,’ said Mr. Penkridge in dismay.
‘I hope there is,’ said Mr. Hesketh. ‘The police are doing everything they can. They’re a pretty efficient lot here, and they’ve got every man out searching. Norfolk is a quiet place, so of course any strangers tend to be noticed. If anyone saw or heard the car pass, then you can be sure the police will know about it soon enough.’
‘Do they know who did it?’ said Miss Finch.
‘I am very much afraid it looks as though one of our gardeners was involved in the plot,’ said Miss Bell uncomfortably.
‘Then you have heard from the Marquess of Bessington’s secretary?’ said Angela, looking from Miss Bell to Mr. Hesketh.
‘Yes,’ said Hesketh, ‘and it appears that Edwards gained his position at the school under wholly false pretences.’
‘I regret to say that I was completely t
aken in by his references,’ said Miss Bell. ‘The address he gave me purported to be that of the Marquess’s London offices, but in fact it was a false one. Nobody at Bessington House had ever heard of Edwards. I shall be more careful in future, naturally.’
‘What, that rough-looking fellow?’ said Mr. Welland. ‘So he did it, did he? Well, I must say I’m hardly surprised. Why, anybody might have known he was a bad ’un.’
‘Thank you, Mr. Welland. I shall bear your expertise in mind when I next employ a gardener,’ said Miss Bell with some asperity.
‘What about this man you have under lock and key upstairs?’ said Mam’selle to Mr. Hesketh. ‘Mrs. Marchmont says he is Miss Fazackerley’s brother.’
Hesketh was about to reply when the door opened and the Maths mistress herself walked in, having evidently just arrived. She looked around in surprise at the assembled teachers—an unusual sight for a Sunday afternoon—and said:
‘Hallo, what’s happening here?’
Mr. Hesketh would have preferred to speak to her in private, but he was given no chance to do so, for Miss Finch immediately spoke up.
‘Irina Ivanoveti has disappeared,’ she said.
‘Who?’ said Miss Fazackerley.
‘The Princess,’ said Mam’selle. ‘She has been taken away, perhaps by kidnappers.’
‘Oh,’ said Miss Fazackerley. She saw that something more was expected of her. ‘Have the police been called?’ she said. ‘Who did it?’
‘We thought you might be able to answer that,’ said Miss Finch before Miss Bell could shoot her a warning look.
‘I?’ said Miss Fazackerley uncomprehendingly. ‘Why, I know nothing about it. I have only just got back, as you see. I have been visiting my mother.’
‘What about your brother?’ said Mr. Welland, with the merest hint of a sneer. ‘Did you visit him too while you were there?’
‘My brother?’ said Miss Fazackerley. ‘What do you know about Dick? Where is he?’
Mr. Hesketh coughed.
‘At present he is locked in one of the guest-rooms until we can confirm his story,’ he said.
‘What story?’ said Miss Fazackerley. Finally realization dawned on her, and she gasped. ‘You can’t mean you think he kidnapped Irina? Why, that’s simply nonsense!’
‘Are you quite sure of that?’ said Miss Bell. ‘You must admit it looks rather odd that he is the only stranger to have been seen in the area lately.’
‘Of course I’m sure,’ said Miss Fazackerley. ‘He came because he knew I was here. He wanted food and a bed. Naturally I couldn’t give him a bed, but I did what I could for him and he promised he would leave in a day or two.’
‘Are we to understand that he does not have a home of his own?’ said Mr. Penkridge kindly.
Miss Fazackerley went pink.
‘No, he doesn’t,’ she said, and looked down. ‘He—he was in prison, you see. Not for anything like kidnapping,’ she went on hurriedly. ‘It’s just that he could never settle to anything after the war, and I’m afraid he rather turned to drink. He always had a little weakness that way. He couldn’t seem to stay in a job for more than a few weeks, and then one day he was discovered stealing some money from his employer. He would have paid it back, I know he would. He’s not a bad person at all, but he wanted something to drink, and the money was there, and—and—’ She tailed off unhappily.
‘I see,’ said Miss Bell, and glanced at Mr. Hesketh.
‘Did you say he was here?’ said Miss Fazackerley suddenly. ‘You haven’t hurt him, have you?’
‘No, of course not,’ said Mr. Hesketh. ‘As a matter of fact he has been very well treated.’
‘And what do you intend to do with him?’ said Miss Fazackerley.
‘I think we shall have to hand him over to the police for questioning,’ said Mr. Hesketh. Miss Fazackerley was about to protest but he went on, ‘I’m sorry, but I have no choice. We can’t risk missing any possible clue about Irina’s whereabouts. If he knows nothing, then of course they will let him go. Besides, I expect it will do him good to have a warm bed and regular meals for a few days.’
Miss Fazackerley saw that Hesketh’s mind was made up.
‘Then may I see him, please?’ she said.
‘Certainly,’ said Hesketh. ‘In fact, I should be glad of your help, as he is somewhat reluctant to tell me anything. Perhaps he will be more inclined to speak if you are there to encourage him.’
They left the room together, Miss Fazackerley looking slightly dazed. From what Angela had seen, it looked as though the Maths mistress knew nothing of what had happened—the story about her brother was certainly convincing enough—but of course the police and Mr. Hesketh would have to be the judge of that.
‘What ought we to do now?’ asked Miss Finch of Miss Bell. ‘Do the girls know what has happened? Ought we to tell them?’
‘Some of them already know,’ said Miss Bell, ‘which I suppose means they all know by now. It certainly cannot be kept a secret for much longer. Still, I suggest we do not say anything about it until the end of the day. Perhaps by that time the police will have found her.’
‘I wonder whether she mightn’t have run off for a joke,’ said Miss Devlin hopefully.
‘I should be overjoyed if that were the case,’ said Miss Bell. ‘However, I fear that this is not a situation which can be easily resolved with lines and detentions. In fact, I am very much afraid that something terrible has happened.’
There was a silence, and all the teachers looked glumly around at each other.
SIXTEEN
While the teachers were talking in the staff common-room, Barbara could be found huddled up in a corner of the Quad under the portico, sheltering from a cold wind that had blown up, with her friends Violet Smedley, Melisande Bartlett-Hendry and Rosabelle Masefield. They had all abandoned any attempt to learn their passage of Virgil for Monday morning’s Latin lesson, and instead were talking about the only subject to occupy anybody’s mind that day—the disappearance of Princess Irina.
‘Do you think that Everich fellow believed us?’ said Melisande. ‘I told him she never said anything to me about running off.’
‘Did she say anything to you?’ said Barbara.
‘Of course not,’ said Melisande. ‘She didn’t really say much to anyone, did she? He seemed to think we were great friends, so I didn’t like to tell him differently, but it’s not as though she confided in anybody much, is it?’
‘No,’ said Violet, ‘but of course if her life was in danger and she knew about it, then she was bound to be rather wary about whom she trusted, don’t you think?’
‘I told him she was a very popular girl,’ said Rosabelle. They all looked up and she said, ‘Well, I thought he’d like to hear that sort of thing. I know it’s not exactly true, but if she doesn’t come back, I thought it might give some comfort to her people.’
They all looked worried.
‘That’s rather a horrid thought,’ said Barbara. ‘I mean to say, I know she wasn’t all that much fun, but I should hate to think—’ She did not finish the sentence. ‘At any rate,’ she went on firmly, ‘I’m glad we brought her into our set.’
‘What did you tell Mr. Everich, Barbara?’ said Violet.
‘Not much,’ said Barbara. ‘I said he’d be better off speaking to Flo when she gets back. After all, the two of them were—are—in the same form.’
‘Florrie’s out with her people, I suppose,’ said Melisande. ‘Isabel ought to be back soon, too, although I don’t expect she knows any more than we do.’
‘Isn’t that Mrs. Marchmont?’ said Violet, who had spotted Angela approaching.
‘Yes,’ said Barbara. ‘I’ll bet she knows what’s happening.’
‘Oh, yes, she’s a sort of detective, isn’t she?’ said Rosabelle with interest.
‘Go and see what you can find out,’ said Melisande.
Barbara needed no further prompting and ran to meet Angela, who had in fact been looking for her god-daught
er as she wanted to speak to her. By common consent the two of them headed out towards the lake, where they would be able to talk in private, since nobody else was about, it being too cold to sit out comfortably.
‘I gather you know what has happened,’ said Angela.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Barbara. ‘That funny-looking man with the pale hair came out and asked us lots of questions about it this morning. How did it happen, exactly?’
Angela gave her a brief summary of the events of the night before, leaving out the part about Miss Devlin and Mr. Hesketh. She also judged it better not to mention Miss Fazackerley’s brother. Barbara listened, enthralled.
‘I say, you do do some exciting things,’ she said. ‘How thrilling, to spend the night chasing criminals about the place!’
‘I should far rather have stayed in bed, I assure you,’ said Angela.
‘And so Mr. Hesketh isn’t a real Latin master at all!’ said Barbara, who seemed to find this the most surprising part of the story. ‘I must say, he fooled me rather neatly.’
‘He most certainly is a real teacher,’ said Angela. ‘Don’t think this is an excuse to get off Latin.’
‘Of course I won’t,’ said Barbara. She reflected for a moment or two on Angela’s story. ‘What a pity Irina ran off before you could catch her,’ she said, then frowned. ‘But Angela, that’s not quite what Mr. Everich told us. He said she had been snatched by a man and dragged away by force. He didn’t say anything about her running off.’
‘That is what I wanted to speak to you about,’ said Angela. ‘It suited Everich to say that, as of course he is of the belief that Irina was kidnapped. However, that is not exactly my interpretation of things. I saw what happened myself, and the more I think about it the more it seems to me that she disappeared of her own accord.’
‘Oh!’ said Barbara. ‘Do you mean she ran away? But what about the man who took her? You said it was the new gardener. What has he to do with the thing?’
‘That’s just it—I don’t know,’ said Angela.
‘Don’t tell me you think she’s eloped with him, because I won’t believe you,’ said Barbara.