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As soon as tea was over, George drove Mrs. Bradley and Ulrica Doyle towards Hiversand Bay to spend the night again at the hotel, but before they had gone very far it was fairly obvious that they were being followed. Acting on instructions, therefore, murmured by his employer down the speaking-tube, George accelerated, and drove on to the main road to Kelsorrow. He swung left just before they reached a bridge over the river, skirted the town, found a by-pass road, and then drove along it at fifty miles an hour. Mrs. Bradley looked back. About a hundred yards behind them on the straight, wide road, a red sports car was bursting along at a speed great enough to overtake them, at their present rate, before the wide road ended at the entrance to the next town.
“Better pull up, George. I don’t recognise the car,” said Mrs. Bradley. “They may not be following us, but if they are I think we’d better see what they want.”
George pulled in to the grassy edge of the road. The sports car drew up ten yards in front of them, and out of it got a man whom Mrs. Bradley had never seen before. Ulrica, however, recognised him, and leaving Mrs. Bradley and George, who were standing by the roadside, she walked to meet him.
“Why, Uncle Percival! Is anything wrong?” she said. Mr. Maslin took hold of her hand as though she had been a small child. He did not answer, but walked up to Mrs. Bradley and addressed her by name.
“Mrs. Bradley, my little girl! Will you please return at once to the convent? Mary has gone! I know it’s unreasonable to ask you to do any more. My wife has confessed that you urged her to take the child home, but—will you come back with me, please?”
“I am concerned with Ulrica’s safety. That is my first responsibility,” Mrs. Bradley told him. “But, of course, I will do what I can. George, take Miss Doyle as before, and I’ll telephone you, later on. Remain there until you hear from me.”
“Very good, madam.” He walked to the car, and returned with a small revolver. “I have a licence for this, madam. Please take it. I have another.”
“Good heavens, George!” said Mrs. Bradley.
“There’s such things as put-up jobs,” said George, glowering solemnly at Mr.Maslin, “and the party of the second part might just as well know exactly where they get off.”
With these admirable sentiments he went back to the car and opened the door for Ulrica. Then he took his place at the wheel, turned the car in the wide road in one magnificent arc, and drove back towards Hiversand Bay.
“Now, Mr. Maslin,” said Mrs. Bradley, when her own car was out of sight, “don’t worry too much. How much is known about the disappearance?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. Look here, jump in, do you mind?—I’d like to get back to the convent. I’ve rung up the police, so that’s something. I don’t know the district, unfortunately, but I’ll comb out every inch—” The car shot away.
It was obvious, from the moment of their arrival, that something was seriously wrong. Mrs. Bradley clearly remembered the last occasion on which she had searched for Mary Maslin. This time (she was informed by the white-faced sister portress at the gate) Miss Bonnet, who had actually got into her car to drive back to Kelsorrow, had got out of the car again, put on her trousers, borrowed a hoe from the gardening shed, and had gone off, followed by the ironic applause of Bessie and the hysterical giggles of Kitty, to conduct a search on her own.
“Which way did she go?” asked Mrs. Bradley.
“Quick, I’ll show you,” said Bessie. “Lor’, she didn’t half look a cutie!”
“You run off and find Sister Genevieve and ask her to get hot blankets ready,”said Mrs. Bradley, turning away from Bessie towards Mrs. Maslin. “I suppose the buildings here and the grounds and the garden have been searched?”she said. “When was the girl first missed?”
“She was to have had tea with her father and me in the guest-house,” said Mrs. Maslin, more foxy-looking than ever with fright and anxiety. “It was all arranged, and when she didn’t turn up I thought she must have been kept after school or something. How was I to know that they don’t keep the children in?
“And at what time did you become anxious?”
“At half-past five, just after you had gone off with Ulrica, and now I find that she hasn’t been seen since the end of afternoon school.”
“Let’s see—she would have been having a games lesson with Mother Saint Benedict,” said Mrs. Bradley rapidly, “Go and find Mother Saint Benedict, Mrs. Maslin, and ask whether Mary had a fall or sustained any injury during the game. That might help a little, do you see?”
“Oh, dear, oh, dear! This violence! And all this dreadful secrecy about Ulrica! Whatever shall we do? It’s too terrible,” said Mrs. Maslin, going off to find Mother Saint Benedict.
It was too terrible for Mr. Maslin, as Mrs. Bradley could see. He had been pale when she had first met him; he was now a dreadful grey colour; his nostrils were pinched and his cheeks seemed to have fallen in.
“For God’s sake,” he kept muttering. “For God’s sake! For God’s sake!”
“Mr. Maslin,” said Mrs. Bradley, “I want you, please, to drive me to the village, and not to worry. Everything is going to be all right.”
At the village post office there was a telephone. The post office itself was closed, but the shop was still open, and there was no difficulty about calling up the hotel at Hiversand Bay.
“Here, madam, right in the entrance lobby,” George’s voice responded. “Nobody can come either in or out without I see them. The young lady went straight to her room on arrival, and says she doesn’t want any food. The other young lady has had a dinner sent up, madam, so the head-waiter tells me. It’s a homely little hotel, madam, and I am already in fairly close touch with most of the staff. I don’t think we need have much fear, madam, but what the young ladies will be safe.”
“Excellent, George. As soon as the inspector arrives, you can come on here and have your own supper. I’m telephoning him now.”
