The Alington Inheritance by Patricia Wentworth Page B

think anything. It’s the plain fact.”
    “I asked you what made you think that she had gone.”
    His eyes were on her. He was the stronger of the two. She threw out her hands in a gesture and said,
    “I don’t think anything about it. I know she has gone. She has taken the small case that she brought here with her night things in it. Her brush and comb have gone, and her washing things. Her bed has not been slept in, but the dress she wore last night is hanging in the cupboard. Her coat is gone. She has gone.”
    There was a pause. Then he said,
    “Why?”
    Mrs. Forbes stared.
    “How should I know?”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Of course I’m sure.”
    “You didn’t come into her room last night and say anything?”
    “Of course I didn’t!”
    Their eyes met. She sustained his look and was inwardly thankful that she had nothing to hide. Mac took his hands from behind his head and got up.
    “I’d better get dressed,” he said. “She can’t have gone very far. What money has she got?”
    “I don’t know. Not very much.”
    “You don’t know how much?”
    “No, I don’t.”
    “All right, I’ll get dressed, and then we can decide what to do. We shall have to be careful. If she’s Jenny Hill, we have no control at all. But if she’s Jenny Forbes—”
    Mrs. Forbes said, “Hush! Are you mad?”
    He laughed.
    “No, I’m not mad. It just wants thinking about, that’s all. Now go along and let me get dressed.”
    She turned and went out of the room. There were things she wanted to say, but she did not say them. She was a strong highhanded woman, but there were times when her eldest son frightened her. This was one of those times. She turned and went.
    Chapter XVI
    All that was on Sunday morning, and no one heard anything until Tuesday. Mac and Alan went back to London on the Sunday evening. It was a relief, though Mrs. Forbes would not have admitted it. It was not what Mac said, for he said very little, and it was not what he did, for there was nothing remarkable about that. She could have borne it better if he had been upset. He was not, so far as she could see, the least upset. And that frightened her. She didn’t know why, but it did.
    And then on Tuesday morning she went into the village. She had been uncertain as to whether she would go, and then it came over her that it was important she should show herself—let people see her—see that she wasn’t upset—that Jenny’s going had made no difference to her. And why should it make a difference—could anyone tell her that?
    She put on a new tweed coat and skirt. It was oatmeal-coloured, and it set off her golden hair and the smooth tints of her complexion. No one but herself knew just how much assistance the complexion and the hair required. No one ever saw her until that assistance had been applied. She put on a golden brown felt hat and a scarf and gloves that matched it and set out for the village.
    It was no more than half a mile, but as she walked, the feeling of dread which had been upon her lifted. Mac had been sensible about it, and she hadn’t been sensible at all. There was no need to suppose that Jenny had found out about anything. How could she have? If she had ran away, it was probably for some ridiculous schoolgirl reason of her own. There had been some love affair, some quarrel, perhaps a row with Mary the house-parlour maid, and she had lost her head and run away. This last theory relieved her mind very much. It set Jenny where she belonged, on a level with Mary. She hoped very heartily that they had seen the last of her. Her spirits rose, and she turned into the main street of the village with a lighter heart than she had had for two days.
    She went first to the general shop, where you could buy everything from bootlaces, the strictly utilitarian kind, to sweets. She came into the shop and was aware from outside of lively conversation that died away as she opened the door and went in. A tall woman in a shabby draggled raincoat