‘You must find it a bit dull sometimes working in a girls’ school, miss,’ he said.

‘It does not amuse me very much, no.’

‘Still,’ said Adam, ‘I suppose you get your times off, don’t you?’

There was a slight pause. It was as though she were debating with herself. Then, he felt it was with slight regret, the distance between them was deliberately widened.

‘Oh yes,’ she said, ‘I have adequate time off. The conditions of employment here are excellent.’ She gave him a little nod of the head. ‘Good morning.’ She walked off towards the house.

‘You’ve been up to something,’ said Adam to himself, ‘in the Sports Pavilion.’

He waited till she was out of sight, then he left his work, went across to the Sports Pavilion and looked inside. But nothing that he could see was out of place. ‘All the same,’ he said to himself, ‘she was up to something.’

As he came out again, he was confronted unexpectedly by Ann Shapland.

‘Do you know where Miss Bulstrode is?’ she asked.

‘I think she’s gone back to the house, miss. She was talking to Briggs just now.’

Ann was frowning.

‘What are you doing in the Sports Pavilion?’

Adam was slightly taken aback. Nasty suspicious mind she’s got, he thought. He said, with a faint insolence in his voice:

‘Thought I’d like to take a look at it. No harm in looking, is there?’

‘Oughtn’t you to be getting on with your work?’

‘I’ve just about finished nailing the wire round the tennis court.’ He turned, looking up at the building behind him. ‘This is new, isn’t it? Must have cost a packet. The best of everything the young ladies here get, don’t they?’

‘They pay for it,’ said Ann dryly.

‘Pay through the nose, so I’ve heard,’ agreed Adam.

He felt a desire he hardly understood himself, to wound or annoy this girl. She was so cool always, so self-sufficient. He would really enjoy seeing her angry.

But Ann did not give him that satisfaction. She merely said:

‘You’d better finish tacking up the netting,’ and went back towards the house. Half-way there, she slackened speed and looked back. Adam was busy at the tennis wire. She looked from him to the Sports Pavilion in a puzzled manner.

Chapter 8

Murder

On night duty in Hurst St Cyprian Police Station, Sergeant Green yawned. The telephone rang and he picked up the receiver. A moment later his manner had changed completely. He began scribbling rapidly on a pad.

‘Yes? Meadowbank? Yes—and the name? Spell it, please. S-P-R-I-N-G-for greengage?-E-R. Springer. Yes. Yes, please see that nothing is disturbed. Someone’ll be with you very shortly.’

Rapidly and methodically he then proceeded to put into motion the various procedures indicated.

‘Meadowbank?’ said Detective Inspector Kelsey when his turn came. ‘That’s the girls’ school, isn’t it? Who is it who’s been murdered?’

‘Death of a Games Mistress,’ said Kelsey, thoughtfully. ‘Sounds like the title of a thriller on a railway bookstall.’