Golden Age Murder Mysteries - Annie Haynes Edition: Complete Inspector Furnival & Inspector Stoddart Series. Annie Haynes

least sleep in their beds at night in peace."

      "The world would have been a good deal poorer to-day if your wish had been granted, Miss Pirnie," the inspector said gallantly. "But now, I have upset you, and it is vexing me past a bit. You will be losing your good looks and that would be more than I could stand. Miss Maureen and Alice Gray will be found very soon, both of them, you may take it from me. And, look here, how would it be if I was to look in at your place sometime this week of an evening? I might have some news for you—that would set your mind at rest."

      Pirnie stood up and adjusted her hat and drew on her long gauntlet gloves. "That would be very kind of you," she said unsteadily. "But—I don't know. Perhaps it would be better not, inspector. I expect I shall hear if there is any good news to hear soon—somehow."

      "Perhaps it might upset some one else if I called?" suggested the inspector. "Maybe, Mr. Soames—"

      The woman's half-averted face turned crimson. "Please do not speak of Mr. Soames. He is nothing to me."

      "That so?" the inspector said in a satisfied tone. "Then there is nothing to prevent you and me from being friends, is there, Miss Pirnie? I shall do myself the pleasure of calling in, maybe to-morrow evening, and bringing you any news there may be."

      "I should be glad to hear about Miss Maureen," Pirnie said primly, but her eyes looked well pleased as they glanced at the inspector's meagre, lithe form.

      They turned out of the restaurant together and made their way back to the roar of the traffic in Knightsbridge. There Pirnie stopped.

      "I get my bus just here, Mr. Furnival, so I will say good-bye, and thank you very much," holding out her hand.

      The inspector pressed it tenderly.

      "I shall only say au revoir. Oh, one moment more. There is one thing you might tell me and save me a letter to Mr. Soames, if you would be so kind, Miss Pirnie. There is a quantity of clothing—men's clothing—in a bedroom on the third floor. It isn't Mr. John Daventry's—it isn't big enough. I don't suppose for a moment it has any bearing on the case, but it is my duty just to ascertain to whom it belongs."

      "Oh, you mean packed away in the lumber room?" Pirnie said as he stopped. "They belonged to Mr. Frank—her ladyship's son, the youngest, that was killed in the war. Her ladyship used to talk sometimes of giving them away—but she could never bring herself to do so."

      "Oh, I daresay not!" But the inspector's tone was abstracted. His eyes were smiling into Pirnie's as he helped her into a bus, his hand held hers closely, and when he stood back to let other passengers get in he still watched her and remained watching until the bus was out of sight. It was little wonder that Pirnie's maiden heart was fluttering as she made her way to her suburban home.

      The inspector walked back across the park. There were heavy furrows across his brow. His keen gimlet eyes glanced unseeingly at the faces of the few riders left in the Row. It was evident that his thoughts were far away. It would have been evident to those who knew the Ferret best that his mind was busy with some knotty problem—that in some way he had been surprised, probably unexpectedly puzzled.

      As he emerged into Bayswater Road near the Lancaster Gate Tube, he glanced at the news posters of the men outside the station. "The house in Charlton Crescent," he read. "Curious development."

      He scowled at the unlucky vendor as he took a copy of the paper. As he feared, Maureen's disappearance had somehow become public, though not all the circumstances. But there was a description of the missing child.

      The inspector's scowl deepened as thrusting the offending paper deep down in his pocket he set off at a brisk pace for Charlton Crescent.

      As he entered the Crescent the door of Lady Anne's house was thrown open and Dorothy Fyvert appeared on the steps with Bruce Cardyn close behind.

      It was evident that she had been crying. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her lips were trembling. She caught the inspector's arm.

      "We have had a message," she cried breathlessly. "Alice has come home alone and denies all knowledge of Maureen. Oh, inspector, what has become of my little sister?"

      "Heaven knows!" said the inspector heavily.