“You shouldn’t believe everything you’re told, Mr. Burton. Miss Barton had one all right—more than one.”

“How do you know?”

“That devoted dragon she’s lodging with told me—her late parlourmaid or cook. Florence Elford. Very indignant she was about it. Would like to have the writer’s blood.”

“Why did Miss Emily say she hadn’t had any?”

“Delicacy. Their language isn’t nice. Little Miss Barton has spent her life avoiding the coarse and unrefined.”

“What did the letters say?”

“The usual. Quite ludicrous in her case. And incidentally insinuated that she poisoned off her old mother and most of her sisters!”

I said incredulously:

“Do you mean to say there’s really this dangerous lunatic going about and we can’t spot her right away?”

“We’ll spot her,” said Nash, and his voice was grim. “She’ll write just one letter too many.”

“But, my goodness, man, she won’t go on writing these things—not now.”

He looked at me.

“Oh yes she will. You see, she can’t stop now. It’s a morbid craving. The letters will go on, make no mistake about that.”

Chapter Nine

Nine

I

I went and found Megan before leaving the house. She was in the garden and seemed almost back to her usual self. She greeted me quite cheerfully.

I suggested that she should come back to us again for a while, but after a momentary hesitation she shook her head.

“It’s nice of you—but I think I’ll stay here. After all, it is—well, I suppose, it’s my home. And I dare say I can help with the boys a bit.”

“Well,” I said, “it’s as you like.”

“Then I think I’ll stay. I could— I could—”

“Yes?” I prompted.

“If—if anything awful happened, I could ring you up, couldn’t I, and you’d come.”

I was touched. “Of course. But what awful thing do you think might happen?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She looked vague. “Things seem rather like that just now, don’t they?”

“For God’s sake,” I said. “Don’t go nosing out anymore bodies! It’s not good for you.”

She gave me a brief flash of a smile.

“No, it isn’t. It made me feel awfully sick.”

I didn’t much like leaving her there, but after all, as she had said, it was her home. And I fancied that now Elsie Holland would feel more responsible for her.

Nash and I went up together to Little Furze. Whilst I gave Joanna an account of the morning’s doings, Nash tackled Partridge. He rejoined us looking discouraged.

“Not much help there. According to this woman, the girl only said she was worried about something and didn’t know what to do and that she’d like Miss Partridge’s advice.”

“Did Partridge mention the fact to anyone?” asked Joanna.

Nash nodded, looking grim.