The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

disappeared.
    Fredericka lay still listening to the hollow sound of his footsteps as he walked away down the corridor. Hasn’t got on his Silent Sleuth shoes today, she thought. But no less pleased with himself, and mysterious. Well, he can do his own thinking…
    An hour later Fredericka opened her eyes to see the nurse bending over her.
    “You’ve had a nice little sleep. And now a good wash and then I’ll bring your lunch.”
    Fredericka’s head still throbbed dully, but she managed, with the nurse’s help, to raise herself to a sitting position. Then, as the woman bustled around and fussed over her she began to feel better.
    “You’ve washed away my headache, and, I hope, my bad temper,” Fredericka said at last.
    “You’ve a right to headache, bad temper, whatever you like,” the nurse said surprisingly. “I guess the town’ll stop their silly gossip now. Or perhaps they’ll say you bashed yourself over the head and threw yourself down the well. I wouldn’t put it past them. Well now, I’ll just get you some food. Hungry?” When Fredericka nodded a little uncertainly, the woman whisked off and Fredericka watched her wide retreating back. Then she leant back on her pillows feeling spoilt and grateful. Murders, South Sutton, even the bookshop seemed very far away.
    “Miss Sanders,” the woman announced as she put down the tray, on her return.
    “I’m Fredericka Wing.”
    The nurse laughed. “Oh, you don’t need to tell me that. Now you just eat your lunch. Here, I’ll cut up your salad for you. Not very ladylike, perhaps, but it’s easier that way until you get used to managing with one hand, or perhaps I should say a hand and a half.”
    Fredericka made no reply because all at once she had begun to think. The murders, South Sutton, the bookshop—and Peter—had come back into the quiet room. She frowned down at her food in her abstraction. When at last she looked up again, Miss Sanders had turned away from the bed and was straightening things in the room.
    “I’m sorry, Miss Sanders, I never said a word of thanks and you are so very kind. I’m supposed to try to remember everything that’s happened to me and, all at once, I began to—”
    “It’s a lucky thing you are alive to remember,” the woman said firmly. “No thanks to the police that you are,” she added darkly. “I can’t think what they were up to, leaving you unprotected like that.”
    This reminded Fredericka of the woman’s earlier disapproving remarks and she asked: “There was something you said a while ago about people in the town. Is it true then that they thought I was the murderess?”
    “Oh yes. And the stories they told. You wouldn’t believe it. Just because you didn’t happen to be a native.”
    “I should think that there were plenty of people who would answer to that description. The students, the faculty, Catherine Clay herself—and Philippine and Roger Sutton, for that matter.”
    “The students and the teachers don’t count. Catherine Clay and Philippine and Roger—they’re all attached to the Sutton family whether they live here or not. They’re rated as natives all right—but you are a real outsider.”
    “Oh—dear—”
    “Now don’t fret yourself. No one suspects you now unless they’re all lunatics. And I expect when you’re up and about again, you won’t even feel like an outsider any more. It usually takes more time, but I daresay all this fuss has speeded things up a bit.”
    “Aren’t you a native, then?” Fredericka asked.
    “Good gracious no. I’ve only been here five years next March.” They both laughed and then, when Fredericka again became silent and thoughtful, Miss Sanders picked up the tray quietly and started for the door. Suddenly Fredericka sat bolt upright and started to put her foot out on to the floor until its heaviness reminded her that she couldn’t. Then she fairly shouted at the retreating figure. “Nurse. Oh, Miss Sanders.”
    The woman turned round and the china on the tray clinked ominously. “Good gracious, you startled me. Whatever is the matter?” she asked a little abruptly.
    “ Please will you telephone the police station and ask them to get a message to Colonel Mohun. It’s most important. I want him to come and see me at once . I—I’ve just thought of something.”
    For a moment Miss Sanders struggled with an overwhelming desire to know what that something could be. Then training and character won, and she said, quietly,