“Who pushed her?” said Charles in a low, hard voice.
The tremor came again. This time the horror was in her eyes.
“It wasn’t-no-Charles-no!”
“What are you saying?”
“He was the other side of me,” said Margaret in a shaken whisper.
“I didn’t mean Freddy,” said Charles. Then, as he said the name, he almost laughed, “Freddy!”
“Who did you mean? Charles-it was an accident. You don’t think it was anything else?”
“It would have been a very convenient accident. I’m going to tell you something. Perhaps you know it already. I told you once before that I watched a meeting of this society of yours. I heard them speaking about Margot. Grey Mask said that if a certain certificate were found she would have to be removed. He said a street accident would be the safest way. Last night Greta-Margot-babbled at dinner about having found a certificate. Less than three hours later the street accident happened. It didn’t quite come off-I don’t know why.”
“Ask her why.”
“No-I’ll ask you-you must have seen what happened.”
“She slipped.”
“Why did she slip?”
The horror touched her eyes again.
“I don’t know. Charles-I don’t know.”
“I do. She slipped because she was made to slip, because she was pushed. I want to know who pushed her.”
She met his eyes.
“Did you think I knew?”
Charles did know what he had thought. He had endured a horrible nightmare in which anything was possible, an hour in which everything had gone adrift in a mad storm of evil. He was not sure of what he had thought in that hour. He looked at Margaret, and woke up.
The relief was so overwhelming that it carried him away. He did not know that his face was changed. But his mood had changed so much that he did not care where it was taking him. He said,
“You didn’t see anything then?” And as Margaret shook her head, he went on, his voice fallen to a tone of confidence. “You see what it means-they know where she is-they know where to find her. Look at the attempt to get her away last night. And then this accident. You see what it means?”
The change was so sudden that it came near to breaking Margaret’s self-control. He did not wait for an answer. He was the old Charles asking her for help.
“We’ve got to put a stop to it. It can’t go on. Can’t you help me? If you’d just tell me the whole thing.”
“But I have.”
“You said you joined. What happened after that? Did you meet any of these people? Did you do anything? Did they make you do anything?”
“I went two or three times to meetings.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. The first time I just went. There were two men in the room. They both wore masks. They gave me a number-twenty-six-and I came away. I went again about a year later. They asked me to sign another statement. I said I wouldn’t at first; but in the end I did.”
“Did Freddy go with you?”
“No, I went alone. The last time was the time you saw me. Freddy was ill. He said there was a meeting, and he gave me some papers to take. I gave them to Grey Mask and came away.”
“He spoke to you.”
“He asked if Freddy was really ill. He didn’t use his name, you know-only a number.”
“The other man”-Charles spoke eagerly-“the one at the table? He had his back to me, but you must have seen his face.”
“No-he had a mask. I never saw anyone’s face-only masks.”
He made an exclamation of disappointment.
“Well, you see I must get her away. I knocked Archie up after I left here last night, and he says he’ll take her along to his cousin, Ernestine Foster. He says she’ll take her in all right. Of course she won’t know who she is.”
“Until Greta gives herself away.”
“Greta must be told not to give herself away.”
Margaret’s eyebrows went up.
“I know,” said Charles. “But I shall put it across her. She’s not to mention Egbert, or poor Papa, or that blighted school of hers.”
Greta put her head round the door and uttered a cry of rapture.
“Oh, Charles! How lovely! Have you come to take me out? Is it fine? Where are we going? I want to drive the whole way to-day. But you’ll have to wait-I’m not dressed.”
“So I see.”
Greta came farther into the room. She wore a pale blue kimono; her feet were bare.
“This is Margaret’s dressing-gown. Isn’t it pretty? It’s one she had ages ago in her trousseau-Isn’t it, Margaret? She wouldn’t quite say it was; but I’m sure it was really, and she didn’t say ‘No.’ Of course the colours were brighter before it was washed. I’m going to have one just like it.”
“Go and dress, baby,” said Margaret. “Charles has come to take you away.”
Charles found the light words tragic. The tragedy was in Margaret’s voice and eyes.
Greta gave a little scream.
“Where are we going, Charles? Where are you going to take me? Are you going to take me right away?”
She held his arm, tugging at it as a child might have done.
“I’m not going to take you like that. Go and dress. You’re going to stay with a cousin of Archie’s for a bit.”
“How frightfully exciting! But I don’t want to go away from Margaret. Won’t she have me any longer?”
She left Charles and flung her arms round Margaret.
“I don’t want to go away. Even if it’s a little bit dull all the time you’re out, I’d rather stay here-I would really. Why are you sending me away? Are you angry?”
Margaret shook her head. Just for a moment she could not speak.
“Charles, ask her to let me stay!” The bare arms were round Margaret’s neck. “Margaret, I do love you! And you saved my life yesterday-Charles, she really did. So she ought to keep me. I should have been right under that horrible bus if she hadn’t simply clutched me.”
“What?”
“She clutched me and pulled me back. I told you someone pushed me. And if Margaret hadn’t grabbed me, I should have gone right under the bus-I know I should.”
Charles did not look at Margaret. He experienced some tumultuous emotions. He heard Margaret say, “I must go, or I shall be late. Greta, go and dress.”
“You haven’t had any breakfast, Margaret.”
“I can’t stop.”
“Oh-” said Greta.
Margaret had detached herself and was at the door. “Go and dress,” she said, and went out.
CHAPTER XXXII
The sun came out later on; the October air glowed in an enchanting mixture of warmth and freshness. It was strange to see the trees hung with yellow instead of green.
Margaret had a busy morning. Women buy new hats when the sun shines. A stout lady with red hair bought six hats one after the other. She did not try them on-that was Margaret’s business; she had to present Mrs. Collinson Jones with a pleasing picture of the hat she meant to buy. If it looked well on Margaret, she bought it with a magnificent disregard of her own contours and complexion. All the hats were very expensive.
When Mrs. Collinson Jones had departed, Margaret had a helpless bride and her still more helpless mother on her hands. Neither Mrs. Kennett nor Miss Rosabel Kennett had the very slightest idea what they wanted. They were both pretty, fair, fluffy, and ineffective. Rosabel tried on eighteen hats, and Mrs. Kennett always murmured “Sweet!” But in the end she and her daughter departed without having made a purchase.
The Kennetts were succeeded by Miss Canterbury, who wanted something which neither Sauterelle nor any other modern shop was likely to have.
“I don’t care about these hats that hide the ears-they swallow you up so. I remember a most charming hat I had before the war, trimmed with shaded tulle and ostrich feathers. I wore it to the Deanery garden-party, and it was much admired.”
Margaret tried to picture the tiny bent creature in a cart-wheel hat weighed down with trimming. She offered a neat small velvet shape.