And now there was the telephone bell ringing, and she would have to put everything down and keep the taxi waiting and-Her pale eyes looked distressfully out of her round pale face.

“Oh dear!” she said.

She took up the receiver, and heard Lee Fenton say,

“Is that you, Cousin Lucy?”

But it couldn’t be Lee, because Lee must be on her way to South America by now. Quite against everyone’s advice, but then young people never took advice.

She said in a small distracted voice, “Oh dear-who are you? I can’t stay-I’m just starting.”

Lee Fenton, in the station call-box, giggled and frowned. No need to ask if it was Cousin Lucy at the other end of the line. And what a fuss she was in. Anyhow thank goodness she hadn’t started. She said firmly,

“Cousin Lucy, it’s Lee. Please don’t start till I’ve told you what I want.”

Miss Lucy Craddock looked anxiously over her shoulder. The telephone was in the hall of the flat, a wall fixture, and if the kitchen door was open behind her she ought to be able to see the kitchen clock, and then she would know how much time she had to spare. But of course it wasn’t open. She had shut all the doors herself, the kitchen door and the bathroom door behind her, and the bedroom door and the sitting-room door on her left. Only the front door stood open, just as Rush had left it when he carried down her trunk, and her hat-box, and the big suitcase which had poor Mary’s initials on it but she hoped that wouldn’t matter because there was an extra large label with her own name in full-Lucy Craddock.