“Stephanie,” he whispered unwillingly, “what’s the matter? Tell me—it won’t seem so bad then.”

She started to pull his sleeve, as if to drag him with her on a resumed journey. “Quick,” she gasped, “quick, quick.”

“Wait a minute. Where are you going?” he asked, without hurry.

She went on tugging at him, achieving nothing of the desired effect. “Mr. Majendie,” she cried.

Brett’s heart sank. “What about him?”

“We’ve got to get to the police,” she almost sobbed. “Oh, do come, quick, please.”

“I am a policeman,” he said, a little puzzled.

Her hand dropped. “What?”

He wasn’t shirking the issue, he told himself, as he rolled off his full name, rank and department. She had to know; and the knowledge might instil a scrap of confidence. In fact she seemed dumbfounded for a few seconds, then made to draw away from him. He let her go.

“Why?” she whispered. “Did you know? What are you doing here?”

“Does that matter? I think you’d better tell me. How can I help you unless I know what’s happened?”

“All right—all right,” she said, still breathlessly. “Only put your torch out. Please,” she entreated, as he hesitated. “Oh yes, yes, that’s it—just in case. Only you see Mr. Majendie, he’s in a car—he was. He gave me a lift from Folkestone. And there was someone chasing him. He told me all of a sudden, and said he’d slow down round the next bend and I was to jump out and get behind the hedge till the next car had passed, then get to the police.”

“But it was me all the time—”

“No, there was another much closer. I saw it go past. I’d only just got behind the hedge. When they’d gone I started to run. And then all of a sudden the torch flashed. I thought it was more of them. I thought they’d seen me and chased me. I couldn’t move.”

What he had heard was so relievingly different from what he had expected that Brett was only too anxious to believe it. But he remained cautiously sceptical. Even if Majendie had been pursued, she need be no less a decoy, intended for them, not for him. Perhaps her nerve had understandably failed; she hadn’t been able to face them; whence her fear.

“Why should they follow you?” he asked.

“I thought they’d seen me through the hedge, or something. You see, I had to stop to bury the case.”

“Case?”

“A little attaché case of Mr. Majendie’s. He said to hide it where I’d remember the place, so I buried it under the snow just by a tree in the hedge.”

Brett switched the torch on her face, disregarding her nervous exclamation. Her eyes, blinking and screwed against the light, met his with fearful anxiety and bewilderment, but with complete frankness. He absolved her from guile, and put Majendie finally in the black. Her presence at Folkestone had been providential for Majendie. Had he guessed what might overtake him? The rest of his conduct made that unlikely; nor would he have made the journey. He had simply used her in an emergency.