and trouble spent on her training. Now your Miss Mathers is the type I like — honest, downright, capable — ’
‘Yes, a pleasant, sensible creature,’ said Mrs Bradley, devoutly hoping that Miss Mathers was going to live up to that description later on in the evening.
‘Who’s the old girl like a lizard?’ inquired a vacant-looking Wattsdown youth of Laura.
‘Mrs Lestrange Bradley, the criminologist.’
‘What? Been having a crime wave at Cartaret?’
‘No, mutt. Psychology. Besides, she’s our Warden at Athelstan.’
‘Oh? I say, who is the girl over there? You might introduce me. Is she a Senior? — Third-Year, or something?’
‘That, pet, is our Sub-Warden. She bites. And I won’t introduce you. She wouldn’t like you. You’re not her type in the least.’
‘Judging by the bloke she’s talking to now — the Heathcliff specimen’, I mean — I should say you might be right. Who’s he?’
‘Her fiance.’
‘Oh? Oh, really? Oh, I see.’ He dropped the subject, but a good many enterprising young gentlemen insisted upon being introduced and Deborah danced every dance in the first half except for two which she sat out with Jonathan, sedately, in full view of one and all.
Jonathan, finding himself paired with Miss Cartwright in a foxtrot during a Paul Jones, had time to tell her that there was something he wanted to ask her.
‘To settle a bet,’ he began; but the music changed before he could put the point, and he was not surprised when she flagrantly grabbed him the next time and said:
‘Go on. To settle a bet?’
‘Those snakes in that Demonstration lesson. Did you…?’
‘Yes, of course. But I daren’t confess to it because my record’s so rocky. How did you…?’ But the music separated them again.
Jonathan, to the joy of Athelstan, had the next dance with his aunt.
‘Listen,’ he said. ‘You were right about the snakes. She did it. She’s just told me. Don’t give me away for telling you, but I thought you’d like to be certain.’
‘Thank you very much, child. That clears away all doubt. A pity the little silly didn’t own up sooner.’
‘Still, your argument that it couldn’t have been part and parcel of the other works of art was perfectly sound. Who else ought I to dance with? I’ve done Miss du Mugne, Miss Butts, Miss Crossley, Miss Topas, Miss Harbottle and now you.’
Mrs Bradley took him off at the end of the dance to ‘team him up’ as Miss Cartwright disgustedly expressed it, with more of the staff, and half past nine seemed to come along very soon. Mrs Bradley, Miss du Mugne, Miss Topas, Miss Crossley, Jonathan and Deborah shared one of the small tables in the Demonstration Room, which had been turned into a refectory. The Science Room, the two Education Rooms, and the Students’ Common Room had been similarly treated, and parties sitting out on the stairs were ‘also a feature’, as Kitty gracefully and tactfully remarked.
‘Get rheumatism, silly little fatheads,’ said Miss Topas. ‘Most of ’em have got nothing on under those frocks except a pair of panties and a bust bodice.’
At ten the Twilight Waltz was announced, and Jonathan and Deborah danced it together. The lights were lowered gradually until only the two over the dais and the one over the door were left shining. By the time the hall was fully lighted again, Miss Crossley had begun to carry out her share of the arrangements by giving her partner, a student named Pettinger, the excuse that she must tidy her hair. She then hurried out. As soon as he saw her go, Jonathan went after her, and scarcely had he caught up with her outside the Education Room, which was next to the Staff Cloakroom, when Mrs Bradley joined them.
‘Did you manage it?’ she asked. The two stopped short.
‘No, I didn’t,’ confessed Jonathan. ‘I marked her position in the hall very carefully when the dance began, then, as the lights were lowered, I pushed along to where I supposed she would be, but by that time the hall was almost in darkness and I don’t believe I could have found even Deborah to pull her hair, much less a lady whom I met for the first time on Wednesday.’
‘Splendid,’ said Mrs Bradley.
‘I mean,’ pursued her nephew, ‘one can scarcely make the round of a dance floor pulling people’s hair at random.’
‘Quite,’ said his aunt, who seemed subtly pleased about something. ‘Well, carry on.’
Jonathan offered Miss Crossley his arm, and they proceeded to the outer door.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘we’ve got to get to Athelstan without being spotted. I say, it’s plaguey dark. And — er — hadn’t you better have a coat?’
‘I have my silk scarf. Poor Miss Murchan wouldn’t have had more on a summer night, I imagine,’ replied Miss Crossley.
‘This way, I think.’
They followed, stumbling, the gravel path which led past the grass tennis court to the steps beside the rockery which fronted BedeHall.
‘Left now,’ said Miss Crossley. She led the way at this point, and mounted to the front door of Athelstan, where she inserted Mrs Bradley’s latch-key in the door. The door swung open. They closed it as quietly as they could and waited outside.
