The Fingerprint

“Out with it!”

“T-treading on my foot and holding hands in the pictures, and k-kissing me good-night. Oh, Joh

He continued to hold her at arm’s length and to watch her. She couldn’t ever tell him about the time when Sid had really frightened her. And right on the top of her thinking about it Joh

“What did he do to scare you like this? You’re frightened to death of him, and I’m going to know why!”

She couldn’t tell him why. It had frightened her too much -the little dark alley between the houses and no windows looking that way, and Sid with his knife out and the point sharp against her throat. If she moved, it would go right in and she would be dead. It tickled against her skin, and he was telling her what he would do to her if she split on him. “Near or far, I’d get at you and I’d do you in. You wouldn’t know when it was coming. You’d be walking along feeling safe, and all at once the knife would be in your back and you’d be dead. Dead girls tell no tales.” That was what he had said. And then he had laughed and put the knife in his pocket and kissed her the way she didn’t like to be kissed, holding her right close up against him and almost stopping her breath. She could never tell Joh

She leaned away from him as far as she could, and he saw the terror in her eyes. He couldn’t go on-not when she looked at him like that. He had always had a soft spot for anything that was frightened or hurt. He let go of Mirrie’s hands and pulled her into his arms.

“Don’t look at me like that, silly little thing! I’m not going to hurt you, I’m going to look after you. I don’t care what anyone has made you do. Do you hear-I don’t care. If this chap has been frightening you, I’ll knock his block off. If he’s blackmailing you you’d better tell me all about it. If you’re in a jam we are in it together. And I’ll get you out- I promise I’ll get you out.”

When he held her like that Mirrie felt it was really true. All the time she was remembering about Sid and the knife she had been getting colder and colder, and stiffer and stiffer. She couldn’t feel her feet and she couldn’t feel her hands. She could only feel Sid’s knife against her throat. But now, with Joh

Chapter XXXII

WHEN MISS SILVER got back to Field End she was in some doubt as to what she should do next. She was, as a rule, a person of quick decisions, but at this moment she was aware of two opposing impulses, and she felt obliged to give each of them her most serious attention before complying with either. On the one hand, she could not minimize the importance of what she had heard from Maggie Bell, and she felt that no time should be lost in passing this information on to Frank Abbott. On the other, it might be desirable for her to check over with Mirrie the two telephone conversations which Maggie had overheard. The third conversation, the one in which Jonathan Field had been a participant, must rest upon Maggie’s word alone, but the talk before the dance and the call made by Mirrie herself at a quarter past eight on Tuesday evening, might, and probably would, confirm the fact that the other person on the line was Sid Turner. If Mirrie were to be unexpectedly confronted with these two calls, Miss Silver did not believe that she would be able to persist in a denial of her part in them, or of Sid Turner’s identity. She had reached this point and had almost determined to seek an interview with Mirrie, when it became clear to her that she would not be justified in doing so. Frank Abbott was in charge of the case, and if Mirrie were to be questioned he had a right to be present.

She knew that he intended to drop in for tea at Deepside with his cousin Cicely and her husband, and she felt reluctant to disturb this brief family reunion. She would not even have known about it if Monica Abbott had not mentioned that she and Colonel Abbott had been invited, yet the more she thought about the matter the greater was her sense of urgency. In the end she drew the study telephone towards her and asked for Deeping 3.

It was Cicely’s voice which came to her along the wire.

“Oh, Miss Silver, is it you?”

“Yes, my dear.”

“What can I do for you?”

Miss Silver slipped into the schoolroom French which it was her custom to employ when she had anything of a delicate nature to communicate.

“I think it will be better if we do not mention any names.”

Cicely continued to use her mother tongue.

“What is it?”

“Is your cousin with you?”

“Yes. You are not going to snatch him away, are you?”

Miss Silver coughed in a slightly reproving ma

“Will you tell him that I should like to see him as soon as possible? That is all, my dear. Goodbye.”

Out at Deepside Frank laughed, shrugged, and said he supposed he must go. Rabbits from hats were no novelty where Miss Silver was concerned. He had his tea and departed, wondering just what she had turned up this time.

Miss Silver had also been having tea. It was rather an odd meal, with Joh

“So unlike him to go out for the whole day and not mention it to anyone. You are sure he didn’t say anything about it to you, Georgina?”

“No, Cousin A

Mrs. Fabian said,

“Very strange indeed.” She turned to Miss Silver. “He is usually so considerate. And of course it does make a difference about meals. One more or one less is bound to make a difference. I can’t remember who it was who said, ‘Evil is wrought by want of thought as well as want of heart,’ but I remember being made to write it out twenty times when I had forgotten to shut the conservatory door and a plant my father was very fond of got a chill in the night.”

Joh

“Darling, is one of us to have a chill because Anthony hasn’t said whether he will be in to Sunday supper?”