“Yes. I was one, and Ursula was supposed to have been another. Then there were two of the sixth form, and a girl who is terribly good. The rest of us had the extra coaching because we’re fairly bad at gym, and Miss Bonnet wanted to improve us before the drill inspection.”
“Drill inspection?”
“All this Keep Fit—-you know. They send people round to the schools. Miss Bonnet was very anxious to have us make a good impression.”
“She seems a hard-working young woman.”
“Oh, she’s ever so keen. I wish I could do P.T. better. It’s lovely for the girls who can. She took us individually. I was the last one she came to.”
“How do you mean—individually?”
“She gave us all an exercise to get on with, and then she went the rounds and put each one right in what she was doing.”
“You were all in the gymnasium at once?”
“Oh, yes. One had rope-climbing, another the parallel bars, two others had to practise the box work, with two more acting as supports, somebody else had ribs tails, and I had the balancing form because my balance is so frightful.”
“And Miss Bonnet was with you all the time up to half-past two?”
“Well, twenty-five past. She was quite disappointed she couldn’t have us for longer.”
“I see. Yes, thank you, child.” The girl went back to her class, and Mrs. Bradley went back to Mother Francis.
“I would like to question all the girls who took extra physical training with Miss Bonnet last Monday afternoon between two o’clock and two-thirty,” she said.
Mother Francis looked at her in perplexity.
“But no one took extra physical training then.”
“I have just been told that Miss Bonnet took a few girls—half a dozen or so—for extra gymnastic work on that day at that time.”
“Oh, well, she may have done so, then. There is no reason why she should not, if she had the time to spare. Only—I knew nothing about it.”
“Mother Saint Francis, are you certain?”
“Perfectly certain. Does it matter?”
“I don’t know. The child who told me about it certainly thought that your permission had been given.”
“My permission was hardly necessary in the circumstances, except that it would have been more courteous to ask for it. That would not occur to Miss Bonnet, I daresay.”
“Except also that I thought the girls were always supervised when they were in the charge of visiting mistresses,” Mrs. Bradley remarked.
“Yes—the whole form. But an extra piece of recreational work is not, perhaps, quite the same thing. Nevertheless, I am glad you have found out about it. On Thursday, when she comes again, I will have a word with Miss Bonnet. She is very zealous. I suppose she did not think.”
“One could almost imagine she thought very hard,” said Mrs. Bradley. Mother Francis looked at her, but if she felt any curiosity it went ungratified, for Mrs. Bradley remarked:
“May I ask you not to mention the matter to Miss Bonnet just at present?”
Mother Francis gave the promise, and also gave permission for the girls who had participated in the extra physical training to be questioned.
The girls—there were nine of them—were unanimous in the assertion that Miss Bonnet had been with them until two-thirty or just before.
“And Ursula Doyle?” said Mrs. Bradley. They agreed that she had not been there.
“What happened when the practice was over?”
“We dashed to wash.”
“Was Ursula Doyle with you then?”
They looked at one another, and one by one replied that they could not remember. At last one child burst out:
“I’m sure she wasn’t! There are only six basins, and Kathleen and I shared one, and so did the two third form girls, and the rest had one basin each, so Ursula couldn’t have been there, and, anyway, she hadn’t been at the practice. Miss Bonnet didn’t seem to notice her absence, though. But, really, she was such a little quiet thing we hardly ever noticed whether she was with us or not, so I don’t suppose Miss Bonnet noticed, either.”
“And what did Miss Bonnet do after she had left you?” Mrs. Bradley enquired.
“She went to the Orphanage, I think. At least, she said she was going there. She said that one of the children had been hurt playing netball. She said, too, that she felt very dirty, but that it was much too soon after lunch to have a bath, although Mother Saint Jude had promised her one in the guest-house as soon as she was ready,” said one of the girls.
Mrs. Bradley went back to Mother Francis.
“Where would Mother Saint Ambrose have got the impression that you had given permission for the girls to have that extra gymnastic instruction?” she demanded.
“No doubt from the girls themselves. Sister Saint Ambrose is a great favourite in the private school. She does not teach the girls there, and that gives her a certain distinction in their eyes.” She paused, and then added, with the disquieting naïveté of the religious: “To her I am indebted for all sorts of information which I should not otherwise obtain.”
Mrs. Bradley, English enough to feel uncomfortable at the thought that Mother Ambrose could be guilty of breach of confidence, did not reply to this. Instead she said:
“Did Miss Bonnet spend time at the Orphanage between two-thirty and the time she went across to the guest-house for her bath, Mother Saint Francis, do you know?”
“I have no idea. It seems possible, as she had been taking the netball game with the orphans.”
“She did not go to the guest-house until half-past three or so, did she?”
“I believe not. It was after four o’clock when I received the news that the child was dead.”
“That allows for the interval during which they were trying artificial respiration, telephoning the doctor, and so on.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Mother Francis agreed. “But to obtain a full report of her movements I am afraid you will have to go to see her at Kelsorrow School or wait until she comes here again on Thursday. She lives in Kelsorrow. I do not know her private address or I would give it you.”
“There is no particular hurry,” said Mrs. Bradley. School finished for all the children at twenty past four. Tea at the guest-house was at half-past four, so Mrs. Bradley missed it in order to question the child who had been injured in the game of netball.
She proved to be a big, strongly-made girl of fourteen. The scars of her injuries were still visible, and she showed them with obvious pride.
“Dear me!” said Mrs. Bradley, examining with very great interest the marks of battle. “You must have had a very bad fall.”
“I did, madam. Didn’t half hurt.”
“Yes, I should say it did. Do all you children come from London?”
“Mostly, except for the Irish. And lots of them are London born. Father Thomas sends us, mostly, and helps to pay for some of us, too and all.”
“He must be a very wealthy man.”
“He’s rich in good works, madam,” the child quaintly responded, “and his place is prepared in heaven.”
As this proposition was unarguable, Mrs. Bradley accepted it with a nod. She had heard much from her son about Father Thomas and his London-Irish flock.
“Now, how long were you out of school on the afternoon that this happened?” she asked, pressing a kneecap delicately with her long, thin, yellow fingers. “That hurt? Yes, and you limp a bit still, don’t you? You ought to rest that leg. I’ll see Mother Saint Ambrose about it.”
“I never went in school that afternoon. I couldn’t walk, and the classrooms are up the stairs,” the girl responded.
“I see. Who was with you all that time?”
“At first, when Miss Bonnet carried me in, Mother Saint Ambrose came. Then Mother Saint Jude, she came. Then they had to go, and Miss Bonnet came, but she didn’t stop very long.”
“How long?”