be searched, trains stopped, roads blocked, airfields shut down. It was vital action be taken now.
Dr Swan and Fossil exchanged
looks
. Amy was still a new girl to them. They now thought she was following the errant path of Smudge Oxenford into realms of faerie, flight and fancy.
The spotlight fell on Inchfawn.
Surely, the grown-ups would have to believe three girls telling the same story!
Inchfawn took off her glasses and cleaned them with a hankie.
‘Kali ran off,’ said Inchfawn. ‘She talked about it, then she did it. She said she could get back to School without us. She said we were
baggage
.’
Headmistress’s eyes nearly closed.
Any girl who knew Kali could tell this was rot, but Amy understood that – to the tiny mind of a grown-up – Inchfawn’s version sounded more believable than a wild romance of hooded villains. Especially if the primary source was the School’s most famous Exaggerator. Smudge invoked smugglers, white slavers, anarchists, spies and members of secret orders of demon-worshipping monks so often that patience with her had run dry.
Amy had a spurt of pity for the Exaggerator. At last she had a true story of crime and terror to recount, but her previous yarns rendered it worthless. Amy felt only cold contempt for Inchfawn. She wanted to slap her, but knew it would make the drip seem even more like the put-upon truth-teller in a nest of verminous fibbers.
Headmistress asked Fossil to escort Inchfawn to Old House, where she was to clean herself up for supper. A-tremble at being entrusted to her idol, Inchfawn ignored Amy’s thumb-through-the-fist sign. The traitor couldn’t cling to Miss Borrodale’s skirt forever. Eventually, she must answer for her crimes.
Amy and Smudge remained with Headmistress.
‘It is a serious matter to voice untruths in this study,’ said Dr Swan. ‘Even in the cause of protecting a House Sister.’
Now it looked even worse. Kali had run off like a sneak and her friends were lying to cover up.
‘Do you have anything to add to your account of this afternoon’s incident?’
Amy and Smudge did not.
‘Very well,’ said Headmistress. ‘This matter will be resumed.’
‘Aren’t you going to call Scotland Yard?’ asked Smudge.
‘We make our own laws at Drearcliff,’ said Dr Swan softly. ‘Keys will find Chattopadhyay.’
Keys nodded. She had a waterproof cape to hand and was set to go out in search of the missing girl. At least something was being done, though it was scant comfort.
Dr Swan considered the girls, drummed her lacquered nails on her desk, and said, ‘You are dismissed.’
IX: The Moth Club
‘ K EYS WON ’ T FIND Kali,’ declared Frecks. ‘The old trout knows School better than anyone, but hasn’t been off grounds this century. When she was a Sixth, she was engaged to a young officer. He only went off and got beheaded at Khartoum with General Gordon. Keys took a vow not to leave Drearcliff Grange. Graduated from Girl to Staff and stayed put. Wants to be buried in the cricket pitch. Under the crease.’
‘Could hardly make it any lumpier,’ Amy commented.
Frecks and Light Fingers tittered at the drollery, then remembered how grave things were.
They were in their cell. Amy had told her friends all.
‘Keys has been scouring the school for sign of ffolliott-Absent for two years and is no closer to laying a hand on her.’
‘Surely, ffolliott absented herself?’ Amy said. ‘Isn’t she on the Riviera?’
‘Did you hear that from Smudge?’ asked Frecks.
‘Well, yes.’
‘…
quod erat demonstr.
, eh? Smudge told
me
that ffolliott-Absent went in a burnoose to trail after Lawrence in the desert, having been fired up with Mohammedanism by anonymous postcards from a sheik. Yes, Smudge said the postcards were both anonymous
and
from a sheik. She meant an anonymous sheik, I suppose. Wherever Enid ffolliott is, I doubt she’s in this. It’s not like sardines, where each disappearee crams in with the last until there
Dr Swan and Fossil exchanged
looks
. Amy was still a new girl to them. They now thought she was following the errant path of Smudge Oxenford into realms of faerie, flight and fancy.
The spotlight fell on Inchfawn.
Surely, the grown-ups would have to believe three girls telling the same story!
Inchfawn took off her glasses and cleaned them with a hankie.
‘Kali ran off,’ said Inchfawn. ‘She talked about it, then she did it. She said she could get back to School without us. She said we were
baggage
.’
Headmistress’s eyes nearly closed.
Any girl who knew Kali could tell this was rot, but Amy understood that – to the tiny mind of a grown-up – Inchfawn’s version sounded more believable than a wild romance of hooded villains. Especially if the primary source was the School’s most famous Exaggerator. Smudge invoked smugglers, white slavers, anarchists, spies and members of secret orders of demon-worshipping monks so often that patience with her had run dry.
Amy had a spurt of pity for the Exaggerator. At last she had a true story of crime and terror to recount, but her previous yarns rendered it worthless. Amy felt only cold contempt for Inchfawn. She wanted to slap her, but knew it would make the drip seem even more like the put-upon truth-teller in a nest of verminous fibbers.
Headmistress asked Fossil to escort Inchfawn to Old House, where she was to clean herself up for supper. A-tremble at being entrusted to her idol, Inchfawn ignored Amy’s thumb-through-the-fist sign. The traitor couldn’t cling to Miss Borrodale’s skirt forever. Eventually, she must answer for her crimes.
Amy and Smudge remained with Headmistress.
‘It is a serious matter to voice untruths in this study,’ said Dr Swan. ‘Even in the cause of protecting a House Sister.’
Now it looked even worse. Kali had run off like a sneak and her friends were lying to cover up.
‘Do you have anything to add to your account of this afternoon’s incident?’
Amy and Smudge did not.
‘Very well,’ said Headmistress. ‘This matter will be resumed.’
‘Aren’t you going to call Scotland Yard?’ asked Smudge.
‘We make our own laws at Drearcliff,’ said Dr Swan softly. ‘Keys will find Chattopadhyay.’
Keys nodded. She had a waterproof cape to hand and was set to go out in search of the missing girl. At least something was being done, though it was scant comfort.
Dr Swan considered the girls, drummed her lacquered nails on her desk, and said, ‘You are dismissed.’
IX: The Moth Club
‘ K EYS WON ’ T FIND Kali,’ declared Frecks. ‘The old trout knows School better than anyone, but hasn’t been off grounds this century. When she was a Sixth, she was engaged to a young officer. He only went off and got beheaded at Khartoum with General Gordon. Keys took a vow not to leave Drearcliff Grange. Graduated from Girl to Staff and stayed put. Wants to be buried in the cricket pitch. Under the crease.’
‘Could hardly make it any lumpier,’ Amy commented.
Frecks and Light Fingers tittered at the drollery, then remembered how grave things were.
They were in their cell. Amy had told her friends all.
‘Keys has been scouring the school for sign of ffolliott-Absent for two years and is no closer to laying a hand on her.’
‘Surely, ffolliott absented herself?’ Amy said. ‘Isn’t she on the Riviera?’
‘Did you hear that from Smudge?’ asked Frecks.
‘Well, yes.’
‘…
quod erat demonstr.
, eh? Smudge told
me
that ffolliott-Absent went in a burnoose to trail after Lawrence in the desert, having been fired up with Mohammedanism by anonymous postcards from a sheik. Yes, Smudge said the postcards were both anonymous
and
from a sheik. She meant an anonymous sheik, I suppose. Wherever Enid ffolliott is, I doubt she’s in this. It’s not like sardines, where each disappearee crams in with the last until there
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