And that people one thought had been killed sometimes turned up alive.

But if she told Mike about having thought the theater troupe was dead, he’d demand to know why she hadn’t known St. George’s would be destroyed and conclude that was a discrepancy as well. Which meant she needed to keep him from finding out about the five casualties at Padgett’s till she’d had a chance to determine if there actually were that many.

Thank goodness he wasn’t here when Marjorie came, she thought. You should be glad they’re late.

And thank goodness her supervisor had taken Marjorie back to hospital, though it meant Polly hadn’t had a chance to ask her what exactly the nurse had said. Polly had offered to take Marjorie there herself so she could ask the hospital staff about the fatalities, but Miss Snelgrove had insisted on going, “So I can give those nurses a piece of my mind. What were they thinking? And what were you thinking?” she scolded Marjorie. “Coming here when you should be in bed?”

“I’m sorry,” Marjorie had said contritely. “When I heard Padgett’s had been hit, I’m afraid I panicked and jumped to conclusions.”

Like Mike did when he saw the mannequins in front of Padgett’s, Polly thought. Like I did when I found out Eileen’s drop in Backbury didn’t open. And like I’m doing now. There’s a logical explanation for why Marjorie heard the nurses say there were five fatalities instead of three, and for why no one’s come to get us. It doesn’t necessarily mean Oxford’s been destroyed. Research might have got the date the quarantine ended wrong and not arrived at the manor till after Eileen had left for London to find me. And the fact that Mike and Eileen aren’t back yet doesn’t necessarily mean something’s happened to them. They might simply have had to wait till Theodore’s mother returned from her shift at the aeroplane factory. Or they might have decided to go on to Fleet Street to collect Mike’s things.