"No," I said emphatically.

My escort nudged me. "You're talking to the press," he whispered.

"You needn't worry about that, Miss," the other assured me. "Just a few questions, that's all."

I stammered, "I thought you were connected with the police."

He smiled disarmingly. "There is a sort of connection," he said.

"I don't want to say anything more. I know nothing about this."

He nodded, smiling, lifted his hat and walked away.

I felt I had behaved in a very indiscreet manner.

The young man walked with me to where the cab was waiting. He came with me back to the house.

"You should never talk to the press," he said. "We don't like it. We like to give them the information we want them to have."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

He blushed. He did not like to admit that the identity of the reporter had not immediately dawned on him.

His parting words struck a note of doom. "I reckon you'll be hearing from us soon," he said. "They'll have to check up and all that."

Polly and Eff were in the hall wondering what had happened.

"Here," said Polly, "what's all this? Who was that young man with you?"

"A policeman," I said.

Polly turned pale.

Eff said, "Police here. What's police doing with respectable people? What are the neighbours going to think?"

Polly interrupted her. "Get a drop of brandy. Can't you see how upset she is?"

I was lying on my bed and Polly was seated beside me. I had told her everything that had happened.

"My goodness," she murmured. "This is something. Murder, eh? That Janine, she was a nasty piece of work if you was to ask me, going round blackmailing people."

"I feel sure her death has something to do with that, Polly."

"Shouldn't be surprised. Do you reckon that Lavinia had a hand in this?"

I shook my head. "I can't believe that."

"I'd believe anything of that piece of goods ... and this will put paid to her and her great romance if it's true. I reckon not even the mighty Framlings would be able to hush this up."

"Oh, Polly, it's terrible."

"I only hope to God you can keep out of it. What a pity you went there. Don't want to be mixed up in this sort of thing."

"I'm afraid I am involved now, Polly."

"That Lavinia ... she spells trouble. I think there's a very good chance she has had a hand in this."

"I can't believe it, Polly. She would lie if necessary ... but I am sure she could not commit murder. She could never bring herself to do it. Where would she get a gun?"

"They'd have guns at Framling. That wouldn't be hard for her. I reckon she's capable of doing anything to save her own skin. I'm not telling Eff any of this. She'd go stark raving mad if she thought we'd be having the police here."

"Perhaps I'd better go back to the rectory."

"It would be worse still there. No, I'm keeping you here till this blows over."

I just clung to her. I was bewildered and frightened. I could not get out of my mind the thought of Janine lying under that sheet ... dead.

The police came. They asked more questions. What did I know of Janine's life? What friends had she? I told them I knew nothing of her friends. I had met her only a few days ago for the first time since we left school.

"She was the daughter of a Miss Fletcher, who ran a nursing home."

"That was her aunt," I said.

The two policemen exchanged glances.

I thought: They discover everything. They will learn who Fleur is. This is going to be terrible for Lavinia ... and just when she was about to get married.

I was so relieved when they went, but there was worse to come. Polly saw it first in the morning paper and she knew then that it was no use trying to keep it from Eff.

She read it to me in a shaky voice: " 'Who was Janine Fletcher? Why should someone take this young girl's life? I had the opportunity of speaking with an old school friend of hers. This was Miss Drusilla Delany who is at present staying with her onetime nurse.' They've given this address." Polly went on: "She is the daughter of the rector of Framling and was on a visit to her school friend when she found her lying on a stretcher being conducted out of her lodgings. Janine had been shot through the head. Miss Delany said she knew of no one who would want to kill her friend. Janine was the daughter of Miss Emily Fletcher, who ran an exclusive nursing home for the well-to-do in the New Forest. Police at the moment are saying nothing, but it is rumoured that they have hopes of an early arrest."

Polly finished reading and looked at me in dismay.

"Oh, Polly," I said, "it's terrible."

"I wonder if they'll find out about Fleur. Police has noses for sniffing out nasty tit-bits."

"It would be terrible, just as the wedding is about to take place. I do hope Lavinia is not involved in this. I am sure she isn't, but all sort of things could come out."

"It might be better for that earl or whatever he is to know something about the girl he's marrying before the ceremony. He'll find out quite enough after, I shouldn't wonder."

"Oh, Polly ... I'm frightened."

"Nothing for you to be frightened of. If anything comes out you've got to stand up and tell the truth. Never mind covering up for Madam Lavinia. It's time she came out in the open."

It was comforting to be with her, but I felt I should return to the rectory, for I knew how concerned Eff was for the respectability of the house. Polly was, too, but her love for me overcame her desire for respectability.

It was the day after we read that piece in the paper when Fabian appeared at the house. I heard the knock and I had an uneasy feeling that it might be the police. I went to open it and there was Fabian.

"Good afternoon," he said, stepping into the hall without invitation. "I want to talk to you."

"But ..." I began.

"Where can we go?" he asked.

I took him into the parlour, that prim little room with the straight velvet-backed chairs and the sofa to match, the whatnot with the precious ornaments on it—dusted only by Eff— the marble mantelpiece, the aspidistra in the big brown pot on the table standing by the window and the paper flowers in the vase in the fireplace. It was the unlived-in room, the sanctum of respectability used for callers, interviewing would-be tenants and, sometimes, on very special occasions, Sunday afternoon tea.

"What has brought you here?" I asked.

"Need you ask? I've seen the paper. This girl ... Janine ... what has she to do with you?"

"If you read the paper you would know that we were at school together."

"The girl's been murdered ... and you were there at the time."

"I arrived after she was dead."

"After she was murdered," he said. "Good God! What does it mean?"

"I think that is what the police are deciding."

"But you have been mentioned in regard to this case."

"I happened to be there. I was questioned."

"The police don't question just to be sociable, you know. The fact that they questioned you means they think you know something."

"I did know her. I was going to call on her."

"For what purpose?"

"Purpose? She was an old school friend."

"Just renewing acquaintance? I want to know the truth. Do you hear me? You can't go on lying forever. You'd better tell me. I insist on knowing."

At that moment the door burst open and Polly stood there. She told me afterwards that she had heard him come in and had been listening at the door.

She stood there, her cheeks aflame, her arms akimbo.

"Now, Sir High and Mighty Whatever Your Name Is, I'm going to tell you a few things. I'll not have you coming here and upsetting my girl. She's worth the lot of you all tied up in a bundle, and I wouldn't give you tuppence for it either."

He was taken aback, but I saw the amused look in his eyes.

"Polly!" I said reproachfully.

"No. You let me have my say. I've had enough of this, if you haven't. I'm going to tell these Framlings a thing or two.

Coming here ... upsetting you. He's going to have the truth."

"Nothing would please me more," said Fabian.

"Oh! You won't be so pleased when you hear it, I can tell you, and if them policemen come here trying to trap Drusilla into saying what they want, I'll tell them, too. Drusilla's done a lot for your sister. Whose child do you think it is we've got here? Your sister's, that's whose. Drusilla tried to help her and gets insulted for it. Who was it went away with her to that home? Pretending they were at Princess something or other's place? Who was it brought the baby to me? It was plain to me when they come here that your sister didn't know the difference between a baby and a pound of butter—and cared just about as much. So I am not having you here bullying Drusilla. You go back and bully your sister. She's the cause of the trouble."

He said, "Thank you for telling me." He turned to me. "This is true, I suppose?"

"Of course it's true," cried Polly. "Are you calling me a liar?"

"No, Madam, but I thought a little corroboration might be in order."

"Now we're in this bother and it's all along of your sister. So don't you start accusing Drusilla of nothing, because I won't have that, either."

"You are quite right," he said, "and I am indebted to you. It is an unpleasant situation and I want to do all I can to help."

"H'm," said Polly, slightly mollified. "It's about time, too."