"No," said Laura shortly, then went on with some hesitation. "I was away only for half an hour."
"Where did you go?"
"Across the fields."
"Thinking of Mr. Calvert, no doubt," said Mrs. Baldwin playfully.
Laura grew red, and on another occasion would have resented this remark about the young gentleman mentioned by Mrs. Baldwin. But at this moment she appeared to be rather glad of the suggestion. "I was thinking of him," she assented.
"A very nice young man, though he is an actor."
"Why shouldn't he be an actor?" demanded Laura angrily.
"There! there!" said Mrs. Baldwin soothingly; and aggravatingly, "We know that love levels all ranks."
"Arnold Calvert is a gentleman."
"Your sister, Mrs. Fane, doesn't think so. She expressed herself much annoyed that he should pay his addresses to you."
"Julia can mind her own business," said Laura angrily. "She married Mr. Fane, and he wasn't a very good match."
"No indeed. Your sister had the money."
"And I have money also. Quite enough for Arnold and I to live on, as you----" Here Laura held her tongue. She really did not see why she should tell Mrs. Baldwin all her private affairs. But when the heart is very full, the tongue will speak out. Luckily at this moment there was another outburst of noise overhead, and Mrs. Baldwin moaned three times.
"The bad twins are persecuting the good ones, and the odd ones are looking on," she lamented. "Do go up and see, Miss Mason."
Laura, glad of an excuse to leave the room, saw Mrs. Baldwin with another lump of delight in her mouth, and another page turned, and flew up the stairs. Here she found a general rebellion. The bad twins, Totty and Dickey, aged ten, were pinching the good twins, Jimmy and Sally, aged twelve. Horry and Dolly, who, not being twins, were called the odd ones, looked on complacently. Laura darted into the middle of the fray, and parted the fighters.
"Horry! Dolly! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves to see these children fight so. Horry, you are fourteen, and you, Dolly, are seventeen. Why don't you behave?"
"We are behaving," said Dolly, a girl in the stage of long legs, short frocks, and inky fingers. "We haven't touched them. I can't study my French lesson for the noise."
"And I've got my algebra to do."
"You shouldn't learn lessons on Sunday," said Laura.
"Why not? Gerty's gone to business."
"She has not. She only went to see if Mr. Tracey found his motor-car that was lost last night."
"Ah! And I'm glad of it," cried Horry triumphantly. "He wouldn't let me sit in it to watch."
"And a good thing to," said Dolly, pensively picking a hole in her stocking; "you started it last time."
"And nearly ran us over," said one of the good twins.
"I wish he had," said the bad twins in chorus. "Come and play, Miss Mason. Bible games!"
"I have no time. Gerty will be back soon. Now, be good children, and don't disturb your mother. She has a headache. Besides, you must get ready for church."
"I hate church," growled Horry. "And if mother thinks I'm going to be a parson, I ain't. So there now."
"You'll never go to heaven then," said Sally, who was the most pious of the good twins.
"Oh, mon Dieu, quel dommage!" said Dolly.
"Dolly!" cried Laura, shocked.
"I'm only swearing in French. It doesn't sound so bad as using bad words in English."
"No," chimed in a bad twin. "I heard the gardener say----"
"Hold your tongue, Jimmy; you needn't say the word!"
But Jimmy, being bad by nature and training, had made up his mind to say the word, and did so very distinctly. An uproar ensued, which ended by the entrance of Mary Anne Eliza. "Come and be washed." There was a chorus of protests, in the midst of which Laura escaped. Not being inclined to talk further to Mrs. Baldwin, she went out in the garden, which was large and as ill-kept as the house within. At the gate she paused, and leaning over, looked up the lane. It was a beautiful morning, and the air was as balmy as the sky was blue. But the exquisite weather did not banish the dark look from Laura's face. She gazed up the road with compressed lips, and then taking a letter out of her pocket, she read it hurriedly. Thus engaged, she did not see a tall brunette flying down the lane, with a flushed face, and an air of excitement.
"O Laura!" cried the newcomer; "O Laura! Such news--dreadful news."
Miss Mason started, and her face grew pale. Hastily thrusting the letter into her pocket, she looked at the girl. "What is it, Gerty? Nothing is wrong with Arnold?"
"No! no! What a timid thing you are," said Gerty, opening the gate. "But I have just seen Luther. He hasn't found his car. But he told me that a murder had been committed in your sister's house."
"A murder!" Laura grasped her friend's arm. "Not Arnold?"
"No. It's a woman."
"Who is she?"
"No one knows. She was found lying dead in the White Room. Stabbed in the back, and quite dead. Such a pretty woman, Luther says, and quite young. Luther thinks the murderer ran away with his car, and that's how it's missing. He's coming round here this morning to see you."
"To see me? Why should he see me? I know nothing."
Laura spoke sharply, and her face was in a glow of colour. At the same time it expressed bewilderment. "How did the woman enter the house?" she asked; "and who is she?"
"I tell you no one knows," said Gerty impatiently. "You'll hear all from Luther, when he comes. But don't say anything to mother. She'll only moan and make a fuss. Besides, Luther says it had better be kept quiet till your brother-in-law comes up. He has been telegraphed for by the police."
"The police. O Gerty, will they bring the police into the matter?"
"Of course. It was a policeman who found the body last night."
"How did the policeman enter the house?" asked Laura. "It's shut up, and not even a caretaker was left."
"I don't know the whole story. Luther would not tell me much." Here Gerty looked at her friend. "Laura, I thought you went to the house last night."
"No," said Laura, after a moment's hesitation. "I told you that I was going to meet Arnold. You know that I have to meet him by stealth, since Julia objects to our engagement. It is not likely we would meet at the house--especially as it is locked up."
"Did you meet him?" asked Gerty persistently and curiously.
"I didn't. I went into the fields by the Nightingale's Tree, and waited till nearly a quarter to ten. But Arnold never came."
"Did he promise to come?"
"No. I only went on the chance. He thought that he might be able to get away if his understudy could take his part in the piece."
"I expect he couldn't get away," said Gerty. "How awful this murder is. I wonder who the woman can be, and how she came to be killed."
"It's very strange," said Laura, who was pale but composed. "Gerty, did you tell Luther I was out last night?"
"No. We were too busy talking of the crime."
"Then say nothing. I should only get into trouble with Julia."
CHAPTER IV
THE MISSING MOTOR-CAR
It was not from