Blindfold by Patricia Wentworth

reposed upon her cream lace front contained two photographs of Syd, one taken at the age of four, and the other on his twenty-first birthday a couple of months ago. In the former he had long curling fair hair and a white muslin frock. In the latter he had rather the air of a girl dressed up in her brother’s clothes. Mrs Palmer had brought him up as much like a girl as possible. He had studious tastes, which he was able to gratify, as he worked in a bookshop. She certainly never thought of him as a man. He was her Syd, and the core of her heart.
    â€œSyd’s different,” she said, and with that the door opened and Syd came in.
    He was not much taller than Flossie, and his complexion was almost as pink and white as hers. He came in now more quickly than usual and shut the door.
    Mrs Palmer put down her knitting and looked anxiously at him.
    â€œWhat’s the matter, Syd?”
    â€œHaven’t you heard—about Ivy Hodge? Haven’t you heard anything?”
    â€œCoo!” said Flossie. “She hasn’t broke it off with Billy again, has she? Anyhow, Syd, if she has, she won’t take you, so you don’t need to get all worked up about it.”
    Mrs Palmer frowned and opened her mouth to speak, but Syd got in first.
    â€œHaven’t you heard?” he said again in his rather high voice.
    Flossie pushed back her chair and got up.
    â€œOoh, Syd—what’s happened?” she said. “Don’t say anything dreadful’s happened—not to Ivy!”
    Syd nodded. He was still standing by the door, his face working and his colour coming and going.
    â€œThey found her in the river,” he whispered.
    Flossie caught hold of Ernie, not because he was Ernie, but because he was there. She hadn’t ever fainted, but she felt as if she were going to faint. She heard Aunt say, “She isn’t dead!” And then Syd had tumbled into a chair and was sitting with his elbows on the table and his head in his hands and saying,
    â€œThey don’t know whether she’ll get over it. Mrs Hodge doesn’t think she will.” He began to cry in a gentle girlish way. “She’s got a knock on the head and she was nearly drowned. And the police have been asking where Billy was. Isn’t it dreadful? Poor Ivy, I always liked her. Mrs Hodge says she won’t ever get over it.”
    Mrs Palmer bent over him, patting a heaving shoulder.
    â€œNow, Syd, don’t you take on so. And don’t you talk to me about Mrs Hodge. Makes up her mind to the worst before anything’s happened—that’s Mrs Hodge. I haven’t patience! Where’s Ivy? In hospital? Then you’ll see she’ll be all right. Flossie, don’t you stand there holding on to Mr Bowden like that! It’s what I call right down forward. Now, Syd, Mother will make you a nice cup of tea and you’ll be quite all right.”
    She went out to fill the kettle.
    Syd pushed back his long fair hair and looked tearfully at Flossie.
    â€œIsn’t it dreadful, Floss?” he said with a catch in his voice.
    â€œSuppose it had been me,” said Flossie in a sort of horrified whisper.

CHAPTER VIII
    Miles Clayton put two advertisements in the papers and sat down to wait for possible answers.
    Mrs Agnes Smith, formerly of Laburnum Vale, Hampstead, believed to have married again, and Ada—, formerly in service with the above, were requested to communicate with M. C. Box 150.
    The advertisements came out on Tuesday. On Wednesday Gilmore took him to dine with his brother Freddy and his brother Freddy’s pretty new wife. Miles and the two Gilmores had been at school together. He found Mrs Freddy an engaging child of nature with a rolling blue eye and an amazing collection of other people’s confidences. She retailed them with extreme candour and a wealth of sympathy. Miles liked her, but couldn’t help wondering how long it would be before she landed Freddy head