Spotted Hemlock

‘I see. Thank you very much for being so helpful. I will find out privately whether she is with him. At which art school does he study, and what is his name?’

‘His name is Coles and he’s at Belmont College of Art in London. I say, you won’t tell Miss McKay, unless it’s impossible not to, will you?’

‘No, I will not, and Miss McKay is not, unless I mistake her, the person to press for information which I may appear to be reluctant to give.’

‘Thanks ever so much, Dame Beatrice. I wouldn’t want Norah to know I’d ratted on her.’

Dame Beatrice went back to the Principal and told her that she had what might prove to be a clue to the whereabouts of the missing student and that the search must be carried on in London.

‘I suppose the little idiot isn’t going to have a baby?’ said Miss McKay. Dame Beatrice replied that this, no doubt, was a possibility, and was so obviously unprepared to say more that Miss McKay, wise in her generation, forbore to ask any more questions, merely adding that all she wanted was to make sure that the girl was safe.

George, Dame Beatrice’s respectable and reliable chauffeur, drove her the ninety-odd miles to London immediately after lunch. She reached her Kensington house in time for tea and sent her secretary, Laura Gavin, to look up the address of the Belmont College of Art. It turned out to be in the neighbourhood of New Cross, and, as it was likely to have concluded its daily session by five o’clock, a visit to it had to be postponed until the following morning. Dame Beatrice had left her telephone number with Miss McKay in case the missing student should turn up again at Calladale, but by ten o’clock next morning no call had come through from the college, so she sent for the car and drove out to New Cross, having previously arranged for an appointment with the head of the art school.

She explained her business and the young husband appeared on a summons from his principal. Dame Beatrice wasted no time on preliminaries. She said:

‘Mr Coles, I represent the Principal of Calladale, where your wife is a student. She has absented herself from college without leaving a message, and you will understand that we are anxious to know that she is safe.’

Her quick black eyes had not left the boy’s face whilst she had been speaking, and it was clear to her, before she had concluded her remarks, that the lad was not prepared to give her much information.

‘I’ve no idea where Norah is,’ he said. ‘I—I should think she must have gone home.’

‘Did you write her a letter to say that you were not in your usual health, or convey any other information which might have caused her anxiety?’

‘No, I didn’t. I’m perfectly fit. Always am. I don’t understand this at all. Who said I had sent her a letter?’

‘Her friend, Miss Elspeth Bellman.’

Coles shook his head.

‘Something wrong somewhere. I should think Norah had a letter from home about somebody there, and Elsie Bellman got it all mixed up. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll telephone. That’s where Norah must be, at her home.’

He went out. Dame Beatrice looked up as the head of the Art School, who had left them alone for the interview, came back to the room.

‘Any satisfaction?’ he asked. ‘I saw Coles come out. He doesn’t look particularly worried.’

‘I do not think he is. He is under the impression that the girl has gone to her own home. Perhaps a member of the family is ill. He has gone to telephone the household.’

‘You speak as though your own is a different opinion.’

‘Do I? I do not hold an opinion. If the girl has gone home it must have been on a matter of some urgency, or surely she would have left a message or sent a telegram. I am extremely sorry to take up your time like this, but you will appreciate that the Principal of Calladale is anxious.’

‘Quite.’ He glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘I’m teaching next period, but, until then, my time is my own. I’ve cleared up my correspondence and there’s nothing else outstanding. Yes, I can imagine that the Principal would be feeling rather worried. Thank heaven, I’m only responsible for day students.’

Coles returned after about twelve minutes, during which Dame Beatrice and her companion had discussed the difficulties and responsibilities of being in loco parentis to boarders. Coles’ expression had changed. He looked anxious and uncertain.

‘She isn’t at home. I don’t know what to think now. Could she have lost her memory and wandered off somewhere? I can’t imagine it. She wasn’t worried about anything, so far as I know. It’s worry that brings about amnesia, isn’t it?’

‘Not necessarily. If she’d received a bad knock on the head it could lead to amnesia. But are you sure there was nothing about which she might have worried?’

‘She didn’t like keeping our marriage from her mother, but, until I can earn, there’s nothing else for it, and she knows that. She’s dead keen on this agricultural college. We’re going to begin a smallholding as soon as we’ve saved enough money. Norah has a job waiting for her at the end of her course—next June, that will be—and I’m hoping to do more pottery, and perhaps sell a picture or two and do some private work—interior decorating, you know. We’re prepared to live very economically to get the money together, and I think my uncle will help with a loan. My people don’t know I’m married, but they like Norah. She can come and stay during the vacations. Her mother thinks we’re engaged. If we can keep the marriage quiet until June, everything should be all right, so I don’t see any real reason for Norah to worry. What do you suggest I should do? I’m afraid I feel rather at a loss.’

‘I shall return to college and consult Miss McKay. It seems to me that our only course will be to call in the police.’

‘Oh, surely that shouldn’t be necessary. There can’t really be anything wrong. If I hear anything of her, I’ll ring up Calladale at once, of course.’

‘And if all is well when I get back, I will let you know.’

But when she got back to the college there was still no news of the missing girl. Miss McKay called in the police. A lean, alert, fatherly, middle-aged officer asked questions and became reassuring. His reasoning was that