Master of Melincourt by Susan Barrie

never detected in her a particular preference for the stables. “Did someone shut you in?” his eyes narrowing.
    “No, no,” she answered again, a little too eagerly this time. “I—it was an accident. I came across to have a look at—to have a look at—-Mothball, and by accident I allowed the door to close behind me.”
    “Oh, yes?” She could tell by his sudden dark look, and the drawl in his speech, that he didn’t believe her—that nothing would induce him to believe her. “And what was Miss Tin a doing all the time you were shut up with Mothball? It’s eleven o’clock now, and by the looks of you you were shut up some time . .. ho urs , I’d say. Did Miss Tina think you’d vanished into thin air, or something? And didn’t she think it was worth mentioning to anyone?”
    “She thought I’d gone to my room, with a—a headache...”
    “Oh, yeah?” he returned this time. “And at what time was that?”
    “Five o’clock... half past five. I can’t remember.”
    “So you were shut up in the stables since five o’clock?”
    “Oh, it must have been later than that.”
    He decided to cease putting her through any further inquisition, and with the occasional assistance of his arm, and his coat wrapped round her, they reached a side entrance to the house, and she prepared to dip through it like a shadow, plainly not anxious to attract any further attention to herself.
    She handed him back his coat.
    “Thank you so much, Bennett,” she said, with real gratitude in her voice. “I’ve never been so pleased to see anyone in my life as I was to see you!”
    “I can believe it, miss.” He looked down at her from his considerable height. “Did that brute Marquis give you any trouble? He couldn’t have got at you, you know. You were quite safe.”
    She said thinly, apologetically, “I’m frightened of horses.”
    “I know.”
    She smiled up at him wryly, her small, pale face quite shaking his heart.
    “Was it so obvious ? ”
    “I’m afraid it was, miss. But I shouldn’t worry about that, if I were you. Me, I don’t like black cats. Can’t think what it is about them, but I simply can’t stand them. And I don’t like rats, neither.”
    She smiled again, in a distinctly wobbly manner. “You won’t say anything, will you?”
    “About to-night, you mean ? Not if you don’t want me to—”
    “I don’t.”
    He looked as if he disagreed with her—violently. “I’d like to give that kid — But there, I suppose she’s half ruined by the boss. Do you think you’ll be all right, miss? You don’t think you ought to see a doctor, or get me to rouse the housekeeper?” thinking she still looked alarmingly pale.
    “No, thank you, I’ll be perfectly all right,” she repeated mechanically. All she wanted to do was to slip away up the dark side stairs and reach her room that way. “Perfectly all right,” she added.
    “If I were you, I’d have a nip of brandy—” as if she was bound to keep it in her room—“before I got into bed. You look as if you need it,” he added feelingly.
    She made her way slowly up to her room, her limbs still feeling very stiff, and when she reached it she was startled to find Tina sitting in a curiously crouching attitude on the side of her bed. She had been sitting in the dark, and her face was strained. The moment Edwina switched on the light she jumped off the bed and flew across the room to her.
    “Oh, thank goodness someone let you out! I was beginning to wonder what I was going to do—”
    “About what?”
    Edwina’s voice was clear and cold, and she moved mechanically into the centre of the room and, when she reached it, knelt down in front of the electric fire and turned it on.
    “About you, of course.” Tina’s voice was extremely strained, and rather husky, but there was a faint hint of impatience in it, too. “All the evening I’ve been worrying and worrying because I couldn’t get across to let you out, and I thought perhaps you might