The Trouble at Wakeley Court (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 8) (18 page)

‘I am trying to remember what he told me about his being sent here when Barbara and I met him and Irina in Percham,’ she said. ‘I don’t remember his exact words, but he certainly gave us to understand that he had begun his journey
after
the attempt on the Grand Duke, and that he had been sent here precisely because of the attack.’

‘That is what I understood too,’ said Hesketh. ‘But of course, you are right. If the journey does take forty hours, as he said, then it is not possible that he could have got here by Saturday morning if he left on Friday. He must have been lying about when he set off, then—always supposing he wasn’t lying about the length of the train journey.’

‘He wasn’t,’ said Angela. ‘I have looked it up in the Bradshaw. He is quite correct.’

‘Then I wonder what his game is,’ said Hesketh. ‘Is he the man we are looking for, do you think? I don’t see how he can be—if he is, then why on earth is he still hanging about here?’

‘That was exactly my thought,’ said Angela. ‘If he already has the Princess, then surely he ought to be miles away by now. There’s no reason at all for him to stay here. I gather he has spent half the day wandering around the village questioning everybody about whether they’ve seen her.’

‘That’s when he wasn’t hiding behind pillars here, listening to conversations, presumably,’ said Hesketh. ‘I hear there have been a few complaints from the girls.’

‘I did ask him what he had done to his hand, but he just said he had cut it on a rusty railing in Percham yesterday,’ said Angela. ‘It might be true, of course. In fact, there’s no reason to suppose that the blood in the summer-house means anything at all, let alone that it belongs to Everich. Still, I don’t like it, Mr. Hesketh.’

‘Nor do I,’ said Hesketh, ‘but there’s nothing we can do about him at present. I’ll report your suspicions to Jameson, though. Perhaps he can dig up something about the fellow. In the meantime, we shall just have to keep a wary eye on him.’

On Monday morning Barbara ran down to breakfast slightly late, having had trouble finding a pair of stockings without holes. She slipped into the dining-room, hoping not to be noticed by Miss Finch, then sat down at her place and looked across at the Fifth Form table.

‘You’re in luck,’ said her neighbour, Rosabelle. ‘I don’t think anyone saw you.’

‘Isn’t Florrie down yet?’ said Barbara.

‘I can’t see her,’ said Rosabelle. ‘She must be late. She’ll be in for it. Why?’

‘No reason,’ said Barbara. ‘I just wanted to speak to her, that’s all. Did you see her when she came back yesterday?’

‘No,’ said Rosabelle. ‘I haven’t seen her for days, as a matter of fact. Didn’t she go out with her people?’

‘That’s what I thought,’ said Barbara, ‘although she didn’t actually say she was going. Did she say anything to you?’

‘No,’ said Rosabelle. ‘Well, she might have, I suppose, but I probably wasn’t listening. You know I never listen to anyone.’

‘That’s true enough,’ said Barbara. ‘What about you, Violet? Have you seen her?’

Violet, who was sitting across the table, calmly buttering some toast, shook her head.

‘I haven’t seen her since late on Saturday,’ she said. ‘We were sitting out in the Quad for a while, but then I went in because it was getting cold, and I don’t know where she went. Did she tell you she was going out?’

‘No,’ said Barbara. ‘But she must have told someone, since we’ve all been assuming she went out with her people. I say, you don’t suppose she’s been kidnapped too, do you?’

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Rosabelle. ‘More likely she’s run away because she couldn’t bear any more of this wretched Virgil. Ugh! I shall never remember it. I may have to pretend to faint in the lesson. Don’t give me away, will you?’

‘If she has been away, then she won’t have learnt the Virgil,’ said Violet. ‘That’s probably what she’s doing now. I dare say she’s in the common-room, cramming like mad.’

But Florrie was not in the common-room. Nor was she in the dorm or the Quad or the San.

‘No, I haven’t seen her,’ said Matron, shooing Barbara away. ‘Now, you’d better run, or you’ll be late for first lesson.’

Barbara ignored the warning and wandered along to the Fifth Form dormitory, where she found a girl who had run up to fetch a hair-ribbon.

‘Hallo, Sarah,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen Florrie, have you?’

‘No,’ said Sarah distractedly. ‘Is she back, then? She wasn’t here last night.’

She then went off, leaving Barbara deep in thought.

The Latin lesson went rather better than might have been expected—from the girls’ point of view at least, since Mr. Hesketh’s mind was not on his task, and he absent-mindedly gave full marks to the whole class for the Virgil passage, even though Barbara’s pronunciation was execrable and Rosabelle forgot the entire middle section and in desperation conjugated the verb
iacere
instead.

At break-time there was still no sign of Florrie.

‘But where can she be?’ said Barbara to Violet.

‘Why don’t we ask someone?’ said Violet. ‘Look, there’s Miss Finch.’

They ran over to speak to the Classics mistress.

‘Miss Finch,’ began Violet.

‘Not now, Violet,’ said Miss Finch impatiently. She was looking at something down by the lake. The girls followed her gaze and saw three or four men loading something into one of the rowing-boats.

‘Oh,’ said Barbara. ‘What are they doing?’

Miss Finch said nothing, but set off down to the lake, to ward off any curious inquiries from the girls.

‘They’re going to drag the lake,’ said Violet quietly.

Barbara stared in dismay.

‘But that must mean they think Irina is dead,’ she said.

‘I’m afraid it does,’ said Violet.

Just then, Angela came out.

‘Angela,’ said Barbara. ‘They’re dragging the lake. They don’t really think Irina’s dead, do they?’

‘Of course they hope she isn’t,’ said Angela. ‘But they must find her, wherever she is, and the lake is as good a place as any to start searching, don’t you think?’

The girls stared in horrified fascination as two men climbed into the boat and pushed off from the shore, and another stepped into the shallows and began wading out with a net.

‘Do
you
think she’s dead, Angela?’ said Barbara.

Angela looked at the white faces of the two girls and pitied them.

‘I don’t know,’ she said kindly. ‘If she is, then it seems odd that they haven’t found her yet.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Barbara. ‘I must say, it was rather silly of her to go wandering about at night. And now Florrie’s gone missing too. Or at least, we think she has.’

‘Has she? I dare say she’ll turn up sooner or later,’ said Angela vaguely, and followed Miss Finch down to the lake.

Very little work was done by anyone in the school that afternoon, for everybody was far too fascinated with the search for Princess Irina. No matter how much the teachers scolded, there was no stopping the girls’ eyes from turning towards the window and watching the dark shape of the little boat in the distance as it proceeded methodically back and forth across the lake, one man leaning over the stern with the dragging hook.

By five o’clock the light was fading and the men stopped for the day, having found nothing. The girls all watched as the men trooped across the grass towards the school building and were met by Miss Bell, who could be seen pointing to various parts of the grounds, including the woods. Perhaps she was suggesting they begin a search there, too.

Barbara button-holed Violet in the entrance-hall.

‘I’ve just spoken to Miss Devlin,’ she said, ‘and she says as far as she knows Florrie didn’t go out at the weekend.’

‘But the Fifth had Games today,’ said Violet. ‘Didn’t Miss Devlin notice she was missing?’

‘I don’t believe anybody is thinking about anything but Irina,’ said Barbara.

‘Then we must report it to Miss Finch or Miss Bell,’ said Violet firmly.

‘But I can’t get anyone to listen,’ said Barbara.

‘Then we must
make
them listen,’ said Violet.

They went along to the staff common-room and knocked on the door. Miss Finch answered. Barbara could see all the teachers gathered together in the room behind her. They were evidently discussing that day’s events.

‘Why aren’t you doing your prep?’ said Miss Finch. ‘Run along, now.’

‘But—’ said Violet.

‘Never mind “but,”’ said Miss Finch. ‘It will have to wait until later, I’m afraid. We have important things to discuss, and quite frankly I’m surprised at you, Violet. I expected you of all people to have the good sense not to bother the teachers with your childish nonsense at such a time. Now, run along.’

She shut the door.

Violet was quite pink in the face.

‘Childish nonsense!’ she exclaimed. ‘Childish nonsense! Why, I’ve never been childish in my life!’

‘No, I expect you haven’t have you?’ said Barbara sympathetically. ‘Poor you.’

Violet glared at her.

‘What do you mean, “poor me?”’ she demanded.

‘Why, you’re always so sensible,’ explained Barbara. ‘It must be a terrible bore.’

‘Oh,’ said Violet, and paused. ‘But I like being sensible. That’s the way I’m made.’

‘And very nice you are too,’ said Barbara kindly. ‘It can’t be much fun, though, can it? I mean, always doing what you’re told, and sitting prettily with your hands folded, and nodding and smiling and not saying anything when guests come, and always having a clean handkerchief, and being patted on the head and told you’re a good girl. Why, I’ll bet you’ve never even climbed a tree.’

‘Of course I’ve never climbed a tree,’ said Violet. ‘I’d ruin my clothes.’

‘Exactly as I thought,’ said Barbara. ‘And what if you
did
ruin your clothes?’

‘Why, I’d get into trouble.’

‘But don’t you think it would be worth it for the fun you’d had climbing the tree?’

‘No,’ said Violet.

‘Oh,’ said Barbara, disconcerted. This possibility had not occurred to her.

There was a brief silence as the two girls contemplated their differences, then:

‘Do you really think I’m a bore?’ said Violet in a small voice.

‘Well, not a bore
exactly
,’ said Barbara. ‘Perhaps a little staid. Stuck in your ways. That sort of thing.’

‘But I’ve always had to be sensible,’ said Violet. ‘My family expect so much of me, you see. They’re tremendously proud of me. I couldn’t let them down.’

‘Nobody said you had to let them down,’ said Barbara. ‘But it’s not quite natural to be good
all the time
, don’t you think?’

Violet drew herself up. Miss Finch’s words had stung her, but she would not suffer being called unnatural and a bore.

‘All right, then,’ she said. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Where to?’ said Barbara.

‘To find Florrie, of course,’ said Violet.

Despite Miss Finch’s apparent dismissal of the matter, the teachers were perfectly well aware that another girl had gone missing, although they had not discovered the fact until that afternoon. Miss Devlin had answered Barbara’s inquiry in a hurry, and indeed had had some vague notion herself that they were one short in the hockey, but it was not until the very end of the Games lesson that it finally dawned upon her that she had not seen Florrie Evans all day. On questioning, the rest of the Fifth swore they had not seen her since Saturday night, but all of them had assumed she had gone out with her people, as many of the girls did at weekends. Miss Devlin immediately went up to the Fifth Form dormitory and discovered that Florrie had left all her things behind, including her night-clothes and her purse with a little money in it. This was not conclusive evidence that she had not gone out with her family, of course, but it seemed odd that she should not have taken even a few shillings with her when she went.

On discovering the disappearance, Miss Devlin went white in the face, for she immediately assumed that she would be given the blame for it. She wrung her hands and ran along to Miss Bell’s study to announce the bad news and beg forgiveness. Miss Bell took the news in her stride—indeed, there was little that could make the situation worse than it was already—and told Miss Devlin to calm herself.

‘Do not worry, Miss Devlin,’ she said. ‘I shall telephone her people in London at once, and ask whether they have got her. I dare say we shall find out that they
did
take her out, but the fact of it was somehow missed in all the confusion over Irina.’

‘But then why hasn’t she come back today?’ said Miss Devlin. ‘Surely they would have let us know.’

‘One would have thought so, yes,’ said Miss Bell, ‘but let us see what they have to say.’

She picked up the receiver and asked to make a call to London.

‘There’s no reply,’ she said after a few minutes. ‘I shall try again later.’

They were interrupted just then by Mr. Hesketh and Angela Marchmont. Mr. Hesketh was looking harassed.

‘I suppose you have heard nothing,’ said Miss Bell.

Hesketh shook his head.

‘No,’ he said. ‘There’s still no sign of her.’

‘At least we ought to be thankful that they didn’t find anything in the lake,’ said Miss Bell.

‘I have handed Dick Fazackerley over to the police,’ said Hesketh. ‘They’ll keep him for a day or two, but it looks pretty much as though he had nothing to do with it.’

‘That is one good thing, then,’ said Miss Bell. ‘At least I shall not have the worry of being forced to ask Miss Fazackerley to resign. Where do the police intend to search next, Mr. Hesketh?’ she went on. ‘And is there any point to it? We know where she went, after all—out of the village. I don’t know why they thought they’d find her here at the school.’

‘They have to be thorough in their search,’ replied Hesketh. ‘And it’s always possible that Mrs. Marchmont and Miss Devlin were mistaken in what they thought they saw.’

‘That certainly is a possibility,’ said Angela. ‘In fact, that’s why I’m here. I understand another girl has gone missing, and it’s just occurred to me to wonder whether the girl we saw running off wasn’t Irina at all, but Florrie Evans. I’ve been trying to remember what she looked like, but of course it was dark and difficult to see clearly. What do you think, Miss Devlin?’