Harriet excused herself to the distinguished guest, and went out into the small lobby in which the telephone was placed. A voice which she could not quite recognize answered her “Hullo!”
“Is that Miss Vane?”
“Yes-who’s that speaking?”
“This is Shrewsbury College. Could you please come round quickly. There’s been another disturbance.”
“Good heavens! What’s happened? Who is speaking, please?”
“I’m speaking for the Warden. Could you please-?”
“Is that Miss Parsons?”
“No, miss. This is Dr. Baring’s maid.”
“But what has happened?”
“I don’t know, miss. The Warden said I was to ask you to come at once.”
“Very well. I’ll be there in about ten or fifteen minutes. I haven’t got the car. I’ll be there about eleven.”
“Very good, miss. Thank you.”
The connection was severed. Harriet hurriedly got hold of her friend, explained that she had been called away suddenly, said her good-byes and hurried out.
She had crossed the Garden Quad and was just passing between the Old Hall and the Maitland Buildings, when she was visited with an absurd recollection. She remembered Peter’s saying to her one day:
“The heroines of thrillers deserve all they get. When a mysterious voice rings them up and says it is Scotland Yard, they never think of ringing back to verify the call. Hence the prevalence of kidnapping.”
She knew where Somerville kept its public call-box; presumably she could get a call from there. She went in; tried it; found that it was through to the exchange; dialled the Shrewsbury number, and on getting it asked to be put through to the Warden’s Lodgings.
A voice answered her; not the same person’s that had rung her up before. “Is that Dr. Baring’s maid?”
“Yes, madam. Who is speaking, please?”
(“Madam”-the other voice had said “miss.” Harriet knew now why she had felt vaguely uneasy about the call. She had subconsciously remembered that the Warden’s maid said “Madam.”)
“This is Miss Harriet Vane, speaking from Somerville. Was it you who rang me up just now?”
“No, madam.”
“Somebody rang me up, speaking for the Warden. Was it Cook or anybody else in the house?”
“I don’t think anybody has telephoned from here, madam.”
(Some mistake. Perhaps the Warden had sent her message from somewhere in College and she had misunderstood the speaker or the speaker her.
“Could I speak to the Warden?”
“The Warden isn’t in College, madam. She went out to the theatre with Miss Martin. I’m expecting them back any minute.”
“Oh, thank you. Never mind. There must have been some mistake. Would you please put me back to the Lodge?”
When she heard Padgett’s voice again she asked for Miss Edwards, and while the connection was being made, she thought fast.
It was beginning to look very much like a bogus call. But why, in Heaven’s name? What would have happened if she had gone back to Shrewsbury straight away? Since she had not the car with her, she would have gone in by the private gate, past the thick bushes by the Fellows’ Garden-the Fellows’ Garden, where people walked by night-
“Miss Edwards isn’t in her room, Miss Vane.”
“Oh! The scouts are all in bed, I suppose.”
“Yes, miss. Shall I ask Mrs. Padgett to see if she can find her?”
“No-see if you can get Miss Lydgate.”
Another pause. Was Miss Lydgate also out of her room? Was every reliable don in College out, or out of her room? Yes-Miss Lydgate was out, too; and then it occurred to Harriet that, of course, they were dutifully patrolling the College before turning in to bed. However, there was Padgett. She explained matters as well as she could to him.
“Very good, miss,” said Padgett, comfortingly. “Yes, miss-I can leave Mrs. Padgett on the Lodge. I’ll get down to the private gate and have a look round. Don’t you worry, miss. If there’s anybody a-laying in wait for you, miss, I’m sorry for ’em, that’s all. No, miss, there ain’t been no disturbance tonight as I knows on; but if I catches anybody a-laying in wait, miss, then the disturbance will proceed according to schedule, miss, trust me.”
“Yes, Padgett; but don’t make a row about it. Slip down quietly and see if there’s anybody hanging round-but don’t let them see you. If anybody attacks me when I come in, you can come to the rescue; but if not, keep out of sight.”
“Very good, miss.”
Harriet hung up again and stepped out of the call-box. A center light burned dimly in the entrance-hall. She looked at the clock. Seven minutes to eleven. She would be late. However, the assailant, if there was one, would wait for her. She knew where the trap would be-must be. Nobody would start a riot just outside the Infirmary or the Warden’s Lodgings, where people might overhear and come out. Nor would anyone hide under or behind the walls on that side of the path. The only reasonable lurking-place was the bushes in the Fellows’ Garden, near the gate, on the right side of the path as you went up.
One would be prepared, and that was an advantage; and Padgett would be somewhere at hand; but there would be a nasty moment when one had to turn one’s back and lock the private gate from the inside. Harriet thought of the bread-knife in the dummy, and shuddered.
If she bungled it and got killed-melodramatic, but possible, when people weren’t quite sane-Peter would have something to say about it. Perhaps it would be only decent to apologize beforehand, in case. She found somebody’s notebook astray on a window-seat, borrowed a sheet of it, scribbled half a dozen words with the pencil from her bag, folded the note, addressed it and put it away with the pencil. If anything happened, it would be found.
The Somerville porter let her out into the Woodstock Road. She took the quickest way: by St. Giles’ Church, Blackball Road, Museum Road, South parks Road, Mansfield Road, walking briskly, almost running. When she turned into Jowett Walk, she slowed down. She wanted her breath and her wits.
She turned the corner into St. Cross Road, reached the gate and took out her key. Her heart was thumping.
And then, the whole melodrama dissipated itself into polite comedy. A car drew up behind her; the Dean deposited the Warden and drove on round to the tradesmen’s entrance to garage her Austin, and Dr. Baring said pleasantly:
“Ah! it’s you, Miss Vane? Now I shan’t have to look for my key. Did you have an interesting evening? The Dean and I have been indulging in a little dissipation. We suddenly made up our minds after dinner…”
She walked on up the path with Harriet, chatting with great amiability about the play she had seen. Harriet left her at her own gate, refusing an invitation to come in and have coffee and sandwiches. Had she, or had she not, heard something stir behind the bushes? At any rate, the opportunity was by now lost. She had offered herself as the cheese, but, owing to the slight delay in setting the trap, the Warden had innocently sprung it.
Harriet stepped into the Fellows’ Garden, switched on her torch and looked round. The garden was empty. She suddenly felt a complete fool. Yet, when all was said and done, there must have been some reason for that telephone call.
She made her way towards the St. Cross Lodge. In the New Quad she met Padgett.
“Ah!” said Padgett, cautiously. “She was there right enough, miss.” His right hand moved at his side, and Harriet fancied it held something suspiciously like a cosh. “Sittin’ on the bench be’ind them laurels near the gate. „„ I crep’ along careful, like it was a night reconnaissance, miss, and ’id be’ind them centre shrubs. She didn’t tumble to me, miss. But when you an’ Dr. Baring come through the gate a-talking, she was up and orf like a shot.”
“Who was it, Padgett?”
“Well, miss, not to put too fine a point upon it, miss, it was Miss Hillyard. She come out at the top end of the Garden, miss, and away to her own rooms. I follered ’er and see ’er go up. Going very quick, she was. I stepped out o’ the gate, and I see the light go up in her window.”