Late, Late in the Evening

'Photographer?' I said. 'Oh, yes, of course. Amabel wanted photographs, didn't she? Did he not appear?'

'Not even his astral body. I suppose they kept him so long at that County Councillors' dinner, or whatever his other assignment was, that he thought it was too late to meet me and come on here. It wasn't until the other three girls decided it was time to pile into their car and go home, that they realised their driver was missing.'

'I can't think why they did not realise it much earlier,' I said. 'They knew, I suppose, that she had left the house.'

'I understand that, after the charades, most people went on to the terrace to cool off,' said young Doctor Tassall.

'That's right,' said another young man. 'Amabel wouldn't let us take off the lendings because of the photographer. Most of us went outside for a breath of air, so she wouldn't have been missed for a bit. Then people sort of drifted in again and hung about because, I mean, you couldn't dance in those fancy outfits, and after that I'm afraid there was a bit of hunting in couples and people sneaked away upstairs and took the costumes off, don't you know, and so forth. You couldn't really say, at any given time, where anybody was, and that's the strength of it, so she wouldn't really have been missed at all, you see.'

'I cannot understand what Harlow and Esme were thinking about, to walk away from the party the way they did, and go off without a thought for their responsibilities. After all, Amabel is their daughter,' I said angrily.

'Well, darling,' said Nigel, with an unpalatable degree of truth, 'isn't that a case of the pot calling the kettle black? It's your house, after all, and you walked out and left the revellers to it, just as they did. It's a great pity that Tassall and I both had to be out of the house at the same time. As for that damned photographer, I could wish him at Jericho and Tassall's expectant mother, too! Anyway, we're going to search the grounds. The wretched girl can't be all that far away!'

CHAPTER NINE

LETTERS

Mrs Kempson's Letter Continued

From this point onwards, my dear Mrs Bradley, my letter may appear somewhat incoherent, but I will be as lucid as I can. Some of the remaining men claimed that they must escort their sisters or female friends home and would therefore be unavailable as members of a search-party. This seemed to me reasonable enough at that hour of the morning, so, in the end, the searchers were reduced to three: my son-in-law Harlow Conyers, my beloved Nigel and Amabel's friend, young Doctor Tassall, who immediately and rightly stated that, if the girl had suffered an injury, he would be of more use than anybody else.

They were about to leave the house with the only two electric torches we could muster, when Lionel came down in his pyjamas and dressing-gown and wanted to know what was happening. He demanded to be allowed to join the search-party, but, of course, this was out of the question. He then stated that he possessed a powerful torch and was sent upstairs to fetch it and be prepared to lend it to Doctor Tassall. This he did and, as a reward, was told by his father that he might stay up for a while, which he elected to do. As soon as they had gone, he put on the fearsome fancy dress which he had commandeered when the costumes arrived. It was that of an iguanadon, or so he informed me.

He then settled down and gave me a lecture on prehistoric animals, which passed the time until we received further news. I was glad of the child's company, for I had a premonition that something very serious had happened. At last my son-in-law presented himself and looked taken aback at the sight of his young son. He sent him straight back to bed and seemed angry with him. I could see that something else was the matter, and I looked anxiously at Harlow, who, after all, had given permission for Lionel to stay up.

'Has she hurt herself?' I asked, when the child had gone.

'Yes, badly, I'm afraid. I came on ahead to tell you. The doctor and Nigel are bringing her in.'

'How bad is it?' I asked.

'Worse than bad,' said Harlow. 'We're in for trouble, mater. The poor girl has copped it.'

'Do you mean-you don't mean-rape?' I asked, my thoughts flying in horror to the gypsy encampment on Lye Hill, although previously I had dismissed such an idea.

'That remains to be discovered,' said Harlow grimly. 'Take hold on yourself, mater. The primary fact we have to face is that the poor kid is dead.'

'Dead?' I said, in stupid repetition of the unbelievable word.

He nodded. 'I'd better go back and help them along with her,' he said. 'I thought you ought to know, though, before they bring her into the house. Will you ring the police?'

'The police?' I echoed, stupidly again.

'Yes, of course. We mustn't delay. Ring them at once.'

'But what shall I tell them?'

'That we have to report the finding of a girl's body near the sheepwash at the foot of Lye Hill. Just tell them that. All further information can wait until they arrive.' He went off and I did as he suggested. The police asked on the telephone whether we knew the girl's identity. I replied that we did, and was told that they would be along immediately and that nothing was to be touched. I indicated that this was nonsense and that the body, as the girl was a guest of mine, would be brought to the house, but the policeman at the other end, having given his orders, had rung off.

I sat and waited. At the end of about an hour Harlow returned. I told him what the police had said. He nodded.

'Just as well we had young Tassall with us,' he said. 'Told us the very same thing. He and Nigel are standing by.'