You will have read the local newspaper, I am sure, so you will know what I have told the reporters about the Mabbley girls.
The Hall has been searched twice – once by myself and John Hurst, and a second time by a local police constable. You will be relieved to know that on both occasions I was able to arrange things so that I was the one who appeared to be searching the upper floors – and that I did so alone. I gave you my word at the outset that no one but myself would ever go up to that part of the Hall, and I have kept that promise.
I made the real search early in the morning of the following day, since I do not care to go up to those upper floors after dark. I will admit that I was anxious about what I might find up there – I suppose the same anxiety was in your mind, as well. It is a terrible secret we share.
It was a difficult search to make, but it had to be done, and without the children knowing. I made my way there at daybreak, and in the cold, bleak December light everywhere was shrouded in a clinging greyness. That is a light I dislike very much, as do you yourself. We both remember what happened in another cold cruel daybreak.
Suffice it to say that I found no trace of the missing Mabbley girls.
Since having made the search, I am no longer disposed to be very concerned about them. They are sharp girls, who know how to look after themselves. Wherever they have gone, it is not to their mother, for I visited the shameless hussy’s cottage myself. A ramshackle place it is, disgracefully unkempt, and the woman herself no better. She was a kitchen maid in Sir George Buckle’s house, and one who did not learn by her misfortune, but returned to sinning like the sow that was washed will wallow again in the mire. She later became notorious in the taproom of the King’s Head – which is to say the kitchen maid became notorious, not the sow. It is a pity that Sir George does not take more care in the hiring of his maidservants.
However, whatever the children were plotting may now vanish. Rosie and Daisy were certainly at the heart of that, if not the actual ringleaders. Douglas Wilger I can deal with – he is too frail to pose any real threat.
As you know, I do my best to run the Hall properly, but lately it has been very difficult. The money allowed for the upkeep of the place is no longer sufficient, especially if there is to be all this conniving and contriving. I do not care to deceive the police, and I hope I shall not have to do so again. With that in mind, perhaps you will look into the current level of payments, with a view to increasing them.
Very truly yours,
Maria Porringer (Mrs).
SEVENTEEN
‘And that,’ said Michael, that evening in Nell’s house, ‘was all there was.’
‘That’s infuriating.’ Nell was in her favourite armchair, opposite him, her hands curled around a mug of coffee.
‘I went through the entire box. I read everything – old account books, seed catalogues, writing on the backs of old photographs—’
‘Photographs?’
‘Don’t sound so eager. Church outings and self-conscious groups in gardens, mostly. Some school groups – probably of the professor as a small, solemn boy. I think there were one or two shots of Mildred and Simeon Hurst as well.’
‘What were they like?’
‘He looked a bit stern, and she was thin and severe. Hair pulled back in a bun, and lisle stockings. But in a strange way they looked kind,’ said Michael. ‘Other than that, though, I found nothing. Well, nothing that gets us any further.’
‘Is the professor going to read it all for himself?’
‘He said he would. I’m not sure if he will, though. He flinches from the past.’