‘I gathered you’d be anxious about Ethel,’ he said. ‘We don’t know, of course, but her grandmother has now a shrewd idea of where she might be. The summer before last they both went to stay in Great Yarmouth with somebody very remotely connected with them, a great-uncle’s step-daughter, or some such, who keeps a small boarding house there. Ethel and this young woman got along extraordinarily well, and Ethel wanted to go again this year. Mrs Rigby has written a letter to the young woman, whose name, believe it or not, is Bedfellow, and as I have to go in to Selbury, I’m taking it to post there. We’ve asked Miss Bedfellow to telephone the Rectory as soon as she gets the letter. So we shall know tomorrow morning.’

It seemed to Miss Mayfield that some quicker way of gathering the information could be found, but she was never going to criticize their arrangements again.

‘I hope she is there,’ she said.

‘So do we all. She had thirty shillings in her possession. She had sold some rabbits. Is there anything you need from Selbury? I’m open to take small commissions.’

Next morning, as the school assembled, Baxter brought a note: ‘Just to let you know that Ethel is safe and sound with Miss Bedfellow. Heard five minutes ago.’

Like everything else, it was smooth and plausible. Unlike many other things, it was susceptible to proof. During the dinner hour that day Miss Mayfield said to Miss Benson:

‘I suppose, being a car owner, you wouldn’t know anything about the bus service from Renham to Selbury.’

‘Only that it’s carefully arranged not to link with trains. Every now and then there’s a grumbling letter in the Selbury Free Press about it. I believe they run two a day. Why?’

‘Well, there’s a parcel at the Selbury Post Office that they think belongs to me. The wrapping is torn, part of the address is missing, and the contents are – I quote – “damp and protruding”. The Postmaster wishes me to go and examine it. The point is, I can guess what it contains. The woman I used to live with – she teaches Domestic Science – is convinced that on my own I shall starve to death, so she often sends me parcels of what her classes have made. She chooses the most impossible things and packs them insecurely. I thought that by Saturday it would be past salvaging.’

‘I’ll run you in,’ Miss Benson said eagerly. ‘I can get to Selbury now in fourteen minutes.’

Miss Mayfield gave an exaggerated shudder.

‘That was kindly meant, I know. I happen to be a very nervous passenger. I’ll wait till Saturday.’

She turned away and began dishing up dinners.

‘I swear,’ Miss Benson said, ‘I’ll stick to forty all the way.’

‘Honestly, I wasn’t trying to cadge a lift. It never occurred to me.’