The Reader Is Warned

she's really thinking -'

'Who?'

'Mina, of course! Or else she becomes almost theatrically literary. There's truth on both sides of it, maybe, but how I wish I knew what was really going on here!'

'Hilary.'

'Yes?'

'Why didn't you tell me the truth about Pennik being in your room on Friday night ?'·

They both stopped. They had gone about ten steps down; above and behind them they could hear the grandfather clock ticking. He was afraid the people in the drawing-room below would hear them. 'Come here,' he said, and drew her farther back up the stairs. She did not resist; her arm felt flaccid under his grip.

Presently a quiet voice asked: 'What makes you think I didn't tell you the truth ?’

'Larry Chase saw him coming out, just before you got in through my window. Chase has told the police about it: that's what they want to see you about now. The point is, there's no harm in it. What they want to know is what frightened you so much. But he was there, wasn't he?'

He felt her draw a deep breath.

'Yes,' said Hilary. 'He was there.'

CHAPTER X

'Then why didn't you tell me?'

She was taking refuge: this time in an affected whimsicality which she sustained admirably but which was all wrong. He felt that. After a kind of Victorian curtsey she sat down on the tread of the stairs, clasped her arms round her knees, and looked up at him. In the dimness of coloured glass her expression might have meant anything.

'And why should I tell you, sir?' she said,' inquired Hilary, wagging her head.

'Come off that.'

'Perhaps there are things that a supremely innocent-minded young man ought not to know.'

'Perhaps. But the supremely innocent-minded police are going to cut up rough if they don't know. That's what I'm getting at.'

'Are you threatening me?'

'Look here, Hilary,' he said, sitting down on the tread beside her. 'You're talking exactly like the heroine of a bad thriller. Getting all up in arms and on your dignity, and concealing some trifle for no reason under the sun. The police are interested in Pennik and any movement he made. I'm interested for a different reason. What was it Pennik did to you that scared you so much?'

'What do you think? ... Oh, there you go; like the hero of a bad thriller. Do you think I wanted it shouted all over the place? Do you think any woman wants a fuss made about a thing like that, setting everybody by the ears? That is, unless she's a certain kind of woman - and there is a word for them. Much better to go on and pretend nothing has happened. It -'

Then Hilary's mood changed. Sanders felt her shiver.

'As a matter of fact, you're quite right,' she said. ‘There was something else. And the poor man didn't even touch me.'

'The poor man?''

Hilary leaned back under the tall window, her head back against the ledge and her body relaxed. 'Tell me,' she said, suddenly. 'This girl you're going to marry, this Miss Blystone. What is she like? Go on: tell me.' There was almost a nagging in her voice. ·But-'

'Please tell me.'

'Well... I think she's a little like you.' 'How?'

In his mind there was a remembrance of a steamer's whistle blowing; the sun on the white castle-towers of a liner; a crowd in which Marcia Blystone bobbed about, confusedly trying to say good-bye to everybody. Kessler must have been one of those on deck.

'I don't know; what brought this up? She's less mature than you are. More - sprightly,' he said it because he hated the word. 'Good fun on a party, and a good conversationalist. She's light where I'm stodgy.'

'What does she look like?'

'She's smaller than you are, and more slender. Brown eyes. She's an artist.' That must be very interesting.' 'It is.'

'Do you love her ?'

(At the back of his mind he had been expecting this.) 'Yes, of course.'

For a moment Hilary remained where she was. 'Of course you do,' she said, sitting up and speaking rather quickly. 'And that's why we can be good friends, can't we?'

'We are good friends.'

'Yes; I meant -' She stopped. All pretence of either Victorian coquetry or nagging seemed a mood; it was gone in a flash; she went on quietly, but with desperate seriousness. 'Listen. A minute ago you accused me of talking like a heroine in a thriller. I used to laugh at such things too; but in a way that is exactly how I feel. Master-Mind Chases Girl. What happened two nights ago isn't worth twopence compared to Mr Constable's death. But in its way it was horrible. Herman Pennik isn't really evil; he's only dangerous. I'm not going to tell them everything, because I don't want it bruited about that - well, never mind. The trouble is that if I do tell them everything I'll be accused of holding things back; and if I don't tell them everything I can't have any protection. For the first time in my life since I used to get put in a dark room when I was a child, I'm afraid; really and genuinely afraid; and I've got to have someone to stand by me. You'll stand by me, won't you? You will stand by me?'

'You know I will. Hilary -'

He was interrupted.

In the gulf of the hall below a line of light slanted out. There was a scuffle and bump of feet, an oath, and the shaking thud of a potted palm toppling over in the hall.

'If you'd just take the trouble to look for the light-switch, sir!' said an exasperated voice. 'Excuse me, but if you wouldn't go mucking about until you know where things are, then you wouldn't knock things over.'

'What d'ye think I am, a goddam owl?' shouted a still more heated voice. 'Burn me, Masters, if you think you can see in the dark you come and look for it. I know what I'm doin', don't I ? Aha! Got it!'

There was a click; and, as Hilary and Sanders jumped guiltily to their feet, the whole hall was illuminated and showed them. It also illuminated their faces, which were revealing to H. M. and Masters staring up from below.

'Oh,' grunted H. M. without further comment. He lumbered up the stairs. 'Evenin',' he went on. 'Are you Joe Keen's daughter?'

Hilary nodded without speaking.

'I knew your father years ago. Good egg, old Joe was,' said H. M. He sniffed. 'I say, the chief inspector down there wants to ask you some questions. Mind goin' along? No, son.' He touched Sanders's arm. 'You come with me. I want to be introduced to Mrs Constable.'

Again Hilary nodded coolly.

'I'm quite ready,' she answered, looking at her wrist-watch. 'But I hope it won't be too long. I've got to- night's dinner to prepare.'

She ran lightly down the stairs, while Masters assumed a stern and stuffed look. Lawrence Chase, who glanced out into the hall at that moment, began to whistle between his teeth. And Sanders went on upstairs with H. M. The latter did not say anything: he only looked.

Yet even in a state of discomfort Sanders knew that all this display could not have been for the benefit of Hilary and himself. There was something else in the wind. What it was he discovered almost as soon as H. M. was presented to Mina.

Mina met them wearing a brown dress and a certain cold poise.

'I was just coming downstairs,' she told them, closing the door. 'But perhaps it will do just as well here. Do sit down. Then we can get to business.'

'Ma'am,' began H. M., with that elephantine delicacy which could be as overpowering as his luridest rages, 'ma'am, I'm not glad to be here.'

'But I am delighted that you can be here,' smiled Mina, dabbing powder off her neck. Her eyes brightened. 'I