His mind went back to his meeting with this Mac in the road. It was dark, and he couldn’t see much of him, but that wouldn’t matter as long as he’d got the note addressed to Miss Jenny Hill. It was signed Mac. The police would find him easy enough, but would it be safe for Dicky? That was the question. That was another thing that wanted a lot of thinking about. The note was to Miss Jenny Hill, but it wasn’t Miss Jenny Hill who had been killed, it was the girl who had been visiting Mrs. Merridew-the same one as had been there in the summer. Now what had she got to do with it? It all went round and round in his head.
Chapter XXXIV
Carter and the two little girls had gone into Langton for the afternoon. Joyce was rather quiet, but Meg was in a prancing mood. They went and came by bus, and she chattered all the time. Joyce sat very genteelly, as Carter put it, with her hands clasped in her lap, and her little serious face rather pale under a new blue felt hat. The children were always dressed alike, so Meg had on a twin hat and a twin coat, and showed them off with the full consciousness of their being new. They sat one on either side of Carter. They had new shoes on, too. Meg kicked her feet, one in, one out, and watched them complacently. She thought that she was going to have pretty feet. Her mother’s feet were rather large, but she always wore such good shoes that it didn’t matter. Meg thought that if she could keep her feet from growing they would be rather nice. They were much smaller than her mother’s at present, but there were years of growing in front of them, and that made her feel rather sad. But she wasn’t going to be sad today-not about her feet or about anything else. It was very exciting to be going on the bus to Langton. It was only the third time they had ever gone there, and they wouldn’t be going now if their mother hadn’t wanted some ribbon matched in a hurry. It was the ribbon she ran into her nightgowns, pink and blue. Meg thought that when she was grown up she would have yellow ribbon in hers, and she wouldn’t let Joyce have the same colour. Joyce could have pink or blue or green if she liked, but not yellow. And Meg would have all the different shades of it, bright gold, and primrose, and pale cream colour. She would have lots and lots of yellow nightgowns, and a furry yellow dressing-gown as warm as warm, and furry yellow slippers. She kicked with her legs, and Carter said in a disapproving whisper, “Now, Meg, behave.”
Joyce sat quite quiet on Carter’s other side. She wouldn’t confess it, but driving in the bus made her feel sick. Even riding in a car made her feel rather ill, and the bus was much worse. It would be too dreadful if she were sick with her new coat on for the first time. She kept her hands together in her lap. If they held on to each other as tight as tight she wouldn’t be sick. She wished very much that Meg would sit quiet on Carter’s other side and not jump about and kick with her legs. “Please, please don’t let me be sick,” she said to herself in her secret mind. “Please -please.” And as if it had been an answer, she heard Carter say quite crossly,
“Now, Meg, if you don’t stop flouncing about and going on like a demented thing, I’ll tell your mother, and next time we go shopping you won’t come with us!”
Meg stopped kicking.
“Won’t I?” she said in tones of piercing interest. “Where will I stay, Carter?”
“I know where you’d deserve to stay,” said Carter darkly.
“Where-where-oh, where, Carter?”
Two young men on the other side of the bus pricked up their ears and began to listen. Carter was silent. She knew Meg in this mood. Egg her on, and there was nothing she mightn’t do or say. She looked so fierce that the young men rather withered away, though they kept an eye on Meg.
Meg was enjoying herself. She liked attracting attention, and she loved shocking Carter. If they had not arrived in the Market Square of Langton, there was no saying to what lengths she might not have proceeded. As it was, she was the only one of the three to be disappointed when the bus drew up. Joyce was thankful. She hadn’t been sick, and going back she must sit with her eyes shut all the way, which was very dull. But she wouldn’t be sick if she did that. She might even go to sleep.
They went across the Square to Moxton Street, and by the time they got there Joyce was feeling quite herself. Meg walked along discreetly, her right hand in Carter’s left. She looked the very picture of a good little girl and would continue to do so while Carter had hold of her. But inside, in her own mind, things were very different. She was a Prisoner and Carter was the Wardress, and she was being taken to a Court of Law where she would be sentenced. Joyce was the humble attendant. Not in any danger.
They went into the biggest shop in Moxton Street. Its name was Jakers. That of course was a blind. And then quite suddenly with all the excitements of the shop round her Meg abandoned the drama of being a prisoner and gave herself up to the delights of the shop. She pulled at Carter’s sleeve with her free hand.
“Carter-Carter!”
“Well, what is it?” said Carter crossly.
“I’ve stopped what I was doing-I really have! I’m sorry, and I’ll be ever so good-I really will! But please don’t hold my hand in the shop! And Joyce and me we’ve both got a half-crown to spend! Can we-”
“If you mean can you wander all over the shop like a wild animal, the answer is no!” said Carter.
“Oh, I didn’t want to do that,” said Meg in a shocked voice. “Only for Joyce and me to look round whilst you get Mother’s ribbons.”
Carter hesitated and was lost.
“You’ll not get into trouble?”
“I’ll keep tight hold of Joyce’s hand-I promise you I will.”
Carter turned to the counter where the ribbons waited for her choice, and Meg pounced on Joyce.
“There are some lovely things along here. Come and look!”
Meg was skilful. She kept near enough to Carter, but not too near. She examined with the deepest interest all the things that she would have liked to buy. Presently she was standing by the model of an exquisitely shaped female leg which set out the beauties of a superfine nylon stocking surmounted by a garter with a paste buckle.
“Ooh!” she said. “I like that!”
“Why is there only one leg?” said Joyce fretfully.
“It’s to show the stocking, silly!” said Meg.
And then there were two ladies, not young, and they were talking together, and one of them said,
“That horrid murder on Hazeldon Heath-”
Joyce hadn’t heard. She was looking at a little dog away on the far side of the shop. She pulled her hand out of Meg’s and ran over to it.
Meg stood her ground. She knew that Jenny was at Hazeldon, because Miss Crampton had said so. And Mrs. Merridew who was Miss Crampton’s cousin lived right next door to where Jenny was. Mary the housemaid had told her all about it, but not about the murder. It wasn’t Jenny who was murdered-it couldn’t be Jenny! Meg found she was shaking all over. It wasn’t Jenny-it couldn’t be Jenny! Why should anyone want to murder Jenny? She had missed something, but not much. She heard one of the ladies say,
“I used to know a Miss Danesworth. Such a very uncommon name. I wonder if it’s the same. I think it must be, because I remember that she lived in a village not so very far away, and-yes, I’m sure it was Hazeldon. Well then, she was giving evidence at the inquest. This girl who was killed was at her house just before it happened. There was a girl staying with her too-Jenny Forbes I think the name was.”