The colour came into Carol’s cheeks.
‘Oh, what fun it sounds. If only Mother doesn’t find out!’
Sarah suppressed her original retort and said instead, ‘Why should she? Good night. Shall we say tomorrow night at the same time?’
‘Oh, yes. The day after, you see, we may be going away.’
‘Then let’s have a definite date for tomorrow. Good night.’
‘Good night—and thank you.’
Carol went out of the room and slipped noiselessly along the corridor. Her own room was on the floor above. She reached it, opened the door—and stood appalled on the threshold. Mrs Boynton was sitting in an armchair by the fireplace in a crimson wool dressing-gown.
A little cry escaped from Carol’s lips. ‘Oh!’
A pair of black eyes bored into hers.
‘Where have you been, Carol?’
‘I—I—’
‘Where have you been?’
A soft, husky voice with that queer menacing under-tone in it that always made Carol’s heart beat with unreasoning terror.
‘To see a Miss King—Sarah King.’
‘The girl who spoke to Raymond the other evening?’
‘Yes, Mother.’
‘Have you made any plans to see her again?’
Carol’s lips moved soundlessly. She nodded assent. Fright—great sickening waves of fright…
‘When?’
‘Tomorrow night.’
‘You are not to go. You understand?’
‘Yes, Mother.’
‘You promise?’
‘Yes—yes.’
Mrs Boynton struggled to get up. Mechanically Carol came forward and helped her. Mrs Boynton walked slowly across the room, supporting herself on her stick. She paused in the doorway and looked back at the cowering girl.
‘You are to have nothing more to do with this Miss King. You understand?’
‘Yes, Mother.’
‘Repeat it.’
‘I am to have nothing more to do with her.’
‘Good.’