St. Peter's Finger

withdrawn. The car drew up at the guest-house entrance at just after half-past three, and Mrs. Bradley was admitted by a very neatly-dressed girl in cap and apron.

The room into which she was shown was simply furnished, but the chairs were comfortable, there were daffodils in glass vases on the table and on the bookcase, and the floor was carpeted. An open grate at one end of the room, and a portable gas-fire, attached to a snake-like flex, at the side of it, gave promise of comfort in cold weather. A picture of Saint Ursula and her eleven thousand virgins, not all of whom were depicted, hung on the wall above the mantelpiece. The room had gas lighting, and there were candles on a side table.

“If you please, madam, I am to ask you to do exactly as you like. Reverend Mother Superior sends her compliments by Mother Saint Jude, and Mother Saint Francis is in school at the moment, but can be fetched if you would like to talk to her,” said the girl, coming back and curtsying.

“And who are you, child?” Mrs. Bradley enquired.

“If you please, madam, I am Annie, the eldest orphan.”

“And do you know, Annie, why I’m here?”

“Oh, yes, madam. Bessie and me have both been told, because we’re to wait on you specially.” She smiled, and added, “And, madam, we are so glad, because you’re really somebody from outside.”

“Outside?”

“Yes, madam. Not a priest, or a relation of one of the private school children, or anybody connected.”

“I see. Well, Annie, the first person I ought to talk to is you yourself.”

“Oh, madam!” She twisted her apron between her fingers, noticed quickly what she was doing, and smoothed it out again.

“Yes. Sit down and let’s begin. Did you know the little girl who died?”

“No, madam, not to say know her. I believe I had seen her about, but we have very little to do with the private school children, even the boarders, and only meet them adventitious. ”

“I see. Who cleaned that particular bathroom, Annie?”

“Me and Kitty, and other times me and Maggie, or, it might be, Kitty and Bessie. It all depends.”

“Which days?”

“Why, every day, madam. Every morning at half-past ten.”

“Did you notice a smell of gas in the bathroom last Monday?”

This question, put to test Annie’s degree of suggestibility, evoked no reply for a minute. Then the girl answered,

“It would be easy enough, madam, now I think it over, to say that I did smell gas, but, honestly, madam, I didn’t, and Mother Saint Ambrose can’t shake me on that, for I know well enough that I didn’t, and Mother Saint Ambrose wouldn’t want me to lie. I reckon all that anybody smelt was the creosote.”

“Did Mother Saint Ambrose say that she knew there would be an inquest?”

“Not to me, madam. She wouldn’t be likely to say such a thing to me.”

“How long have you lived here, Annie?”

“Since I was nine and a half. Father was killed on the line—he was a platelayer, he was—and mother went on the drink and took up with a horse-racing man.”

“Do you like the convent life, Annie?”

“Oh, madam, yes, I do. But I can’t stay on after May unless I become a lay-sister, but Mother Saint Jude and Mother Saint Ambrose don’t seem to see me like that.”

“What will it be? What will you do, I mean?”

“Domestic service, madam. But I’m so afraid I’ll feel odd. It won’t be like the convent, and I don’t know what mistresses are like. I shouldn’t care to be awkward ard do the wrong things. Then—gentlemen. We have so few gentlemen to wait on, and most of those are priests who come here because they’ve been ill.”

“I expect you’ve been very well trained. There is nothing to dread. People have need of good servants. I’m sure you’ll like it very much if you get a good place.”

“But I don’t expect to like it, madam—not as I’ve liked it here.”

“So you do like it? I’ve often wondered what the feeling was. Is anybody unhappy here, do you think?”

“You mean that poor little girl, madam? I couldn’t tell you. Us orphans aren’t, except Bessie. I couldn’t answer for her. My belief she’d be a misfit anywhere. But we all dread leaving, except Bessie, and now there’s been this dreadful upset, and all this questioning, and nobody knowing anything, it’s worse.”

“Are you girls trained for anything besides domestic service? Are there other prospects?”

“We can learn the typewriter and the shorthand, madam, if we wish. The clever ones do. But I want to be a real cook, madam. Still, I do dread to think about leaving here, especially now. Because what could have made her do such a dreadful thing? Not anything here, I do know. It must have been something outside, and that’s what frightens me so.”

“But, Annie, there’s nothing to dread. Your mistress, I’m sure, will take to you because you have pleasant manners and you know your work and like it. You are sensible and good, I am sure. How many young men have you met?”

“Oh, madam, that’s the part that worries me most. I’m sure they’ll think I’m odd, and I dread their ways.” Her young, clear eyes sought comfort. Mrs. Bradley’s brilliant gaze met hers, and both of them smiled.