Dead or Alive by Patricia Wentworth

ways—lightly, appraisingly, coldly, tauntingly, cruelly, and with what she had taken for love. That hurt most to remember now. The shudder threatened to become uncontrollable. Whoever had been in her sitting-room that night has passed her so near that they might with any unreckoned movement have touched. If he had touched her, she would have known whether it was Robin O’Hara.
    Bill’s voice broke in upon her thought.
    â€œWhy wouldn’t the lights go on?”
    This at least was easily answered.
    â€œBecause the bulbs had been taken out.”
    â€œThe hall light was all right when you went in.”
    â€œYes, I know, Bill—that was clever, because if the hall light hadn’t gone on, you would have come in to see what was the matter. But I didn’t find out there was anything wrong till you had gone, and of course I hadn’t got a candle, so I just left the hall light on and my door open. Then, after I was asleep, my door was shut and the hall bulb taken away.” The shiver went over her again.
    â€œWhere were the bulbs?”
    â€œOne on the sitting-room mantelpiece—that was the one I found and put in—and the others on the kitchen table.”
    â€œWhat was he looking for?” said Bill.
    â€œDo you think he as looking for something?”
    â€œMust have been, otherwise the whole show is pointless.”
    Meg shook her head. She was very white. Her eyes avoided his.
    â€œIt might have been—to frighten me.”
    â€œWhy should anyone want to frighten you? Who would want to frighten you?”
    Her silence said the name she would not speak. If she had had any other name in her mind she would have spoken it aloud.
    â€œIt’s the most preposterous nonsense!” said Bill violently.
    Meg nodded. She was thinking of other preposterous things which Robin O’Hara had done.
    â€œMy dear girl, be practical!” said Bill. “Nobody took all that trouble and risk for nothing. Oh yes, it was a risk all right—I might have come in with you and caught him on the premises.”
    She shook her head.
    â€œNo—he wasn’t here then.”
    â€œHow do you know?” His voice was quick and angry.
    â€œI don’t know how I know, but I do know. There wasn’t anyone here when I came in.”
    â€œYou mean he came and took out the bulbs and went away again, and then came back when you were asleep?”
    She nodded.
    â€œYes, that’s how it was. I’m quite sure there wasn’t anyone here when I came home.”
    Bill was frowning heavily.
    â€œHave you been through the drawer? Is anything missing?”
    She made a little helpless gesture.
    â€™â€œI don’t know. You see, the things in that drawer weren’t mine—at least most of them weren’t. It was Robin’s drawer, and I’ve never really been through it. I suppose I ought to have, but—” Her voice died away on the word.
    â€œSo you’ve no means of knowing whether anything was taken?”
    She shook her head in a hesitating way. Then she said rather breathlessly,
    â€œThe card might have come from there.”
    â€œWhat card?”
    She got up, went over to the writing-table, and came back again. There was a small white card in her hand. She laid it on Bill’s outstretched palm and went and sat down again. She was glad to sit down again, because her knees were shaking.
    Bill looked at Robin O’Hara’s card and said sharply,
    â€œWhere was this?”
    Meg pointed at the little walnut table, now heaped with books and papers.
    â€œ That was out in the middle of the room. All the books and papers had been cleared off it. They were on the sofa. There wasn’t anything on the table except that card.”
    Bill stared at the printed name— Mr Robin O’Hara . Then he turned the card over and sat up straight.
    â€œWhy do you think this card came out of the drawer?”
    â€œBecause