The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

such a beautiful motive.”
    “I think you have designs on James. All the same it’s an interesting idea, but I think we’d have discovered it by now. Anyway, why hide it? And now, I’m off—”
    “Can’t you just stay for some coffee or—or—something stronger from Miss Hartwell’s cupboard?”
    “No, I’d like to, but I mustn’t. It isn’t too late to look in on Margie and have a word with Mrs. Sutton about that letter for Catherine.”
    “I’ve just remembered that it was Margie, not Chris, who took the letters out to the Farm that day. She came in and asked for them.”
    “Did she now?”
    When he said nothing more Fredericka waited for him to go on. But he seemed to have fallen into a deep study. At last she said: “Well, I’ll just walk around to the front with you, if you must go. I’d rather like to see where my protector is and whether he’d like an innocent police-like nightcap since you turn me down.”
    As they skirted the house, they saw that the reading lamp was on in the office, and that Sergeant Brown was sitting in the big chair with a pile of comics on the floor beside him.
    “It’s almost insulting in a bookshop, isn’t it?” Fredericka laughed.
    “Yes, with all those lovely volumes so handy,” Peter agreed. “Nevertheless it makes me feel good to see him there, comics or no comics.”
    “Me, too,” Fredericka agreed quietly.
    They walked to the gate in silence and then Peter said hurriedly: “Good night, Watson—and, again, my thanks and blessings.”
    “Good night, Sherlock,” Fredericka answered, and then: “Try to let me know about Margie tomorrow, if you can.”
    “I will. But I can’t promise. You do understand, don’t you?” When Fredericka muttered a half-hearted, “Yes,” he added quickly, “And now DON’T WORRY.” As he spoke, he disappeared into the darkness before she could answer.
    “Don’t worry, indeed,” Fredericka spluttered to herself, as she went inside to brew coffee for Sergeant Brown. But, in spite of herself, Fredericka was comforted by the fact that she had been able to help Peter. And, if Peter, then certainly Margie, too.
    That night she slept well.
    Saturday proved a busy day in the shop and Fredericka decided to keep open all day, mainly because she didn’t want to miss Peter’s half-promised call. But by late afternoon he had not appeared and she was contemplating escape to the inn for supper when there was a dismal shriek like a note of warning from the main road. Fredericka rushed down the front path and looked along Beech Street in the direction of the shops. As she did so a great white ambulance turned the corner and disappeared in a cloud of dust.
    Fredericka’s heart beat furiously and she felt choked with fear. It must be Margie. There couldn’t be any doubt. The ambulance had been coming down Spruce Street from the direction of the Farm, and it had turned into Beech which was the direct route to the County Hospital. She walked back to the house slowly and found Sergeant Brown standing by the door.
    “Ambulance?” he asked.
    “Yes.”
    “They say Margie Hartwell’s sick.”
    “Yes. Colonel Mohun told me last night that they might have to send her to hospital for tests.”
    All at once the thought of the inn and the gossiping people sickened her. She turned impulsively to Sergeant Brown and said that she was about to get her supper and wouldn’t he like to share it with her? He agreed with such alacrity that she was aware how much she had neglected him.
    “I’m afraid I’ve been too busy to pay attention to you until this moment,” she said apologetically, “and you are good to keep out of sight when the customers are around.”
    “They’d only talk their faces off,” he said cheerfully. “Besides, I take my time off during the day when Chris is here.”
    Fredericka realized suddenly how little thought she had given to his time off. He was now her guardian and she had come to take his presence for granted.
    He followed her into the kitchen and offered his assistance. “My wife says I’m not too bad at this,” he announced as he took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. He had just started to make some ham sandwiches when the front door banged.
    Fredericka untied her apron and hurried out into the hall, hoping to find Peter. But it was Philippine and James Brewster who stood in the doorway.
    Philippine began to speak at once and without greeting.
    “Margie’s terribly ill, Fredericka.