Touch and Go by Patricia Wentworth Read Free Book Online Page A

feeling that it would not. They would probably think, and say, that she ought to have sought out Mr. Minnow and told him what she had seen instead of blinding off to town to meet Ran. Silence looked very golden to Sarah Trent. She closed her lips firmly and let Lucilla go on talking.

CHAPTER VII
    They went next day to Holme Fallow. It took much longer on a bicycle than it had done in The Bomb . Sarah remembered where she had turned, but instead of following the left-hand fork of the road Lucilla kept straight on until they came to a lodge and a pair of iron gates.
    Mrs. Snagge came out of the lodge to let them in. She was a little woman with a long sharp nose and a tight mouth.
    Lucilla leaned on her bicycle and said good morning.
    â€œThis is the way the burglar came in,” she said to Sarah.
    Sarah looked at the big gates which Mrs. Snagge was opening.
    â€œAha! That’s where the fun comes in!” said Lucilla. “I say, Mrs. Snagge, did you tell Minnow how the burglar got in?”
    Mrs. Snagge pursed up her lips.
    â€œThere’s no saying—” she began, but Lucilla cut her short.
    â€œOh yes, there is. You know, and Snagge knows, and I know, that you left the gates open.”
    â€œI’m sure, Miss Lucilla—” The woman’s voice shook, but Sarah thought it was with anger. Her eyes were resentful too.
    â€œSo am I,” said Lucilla sternly—“quite, quite sure. You always do leave them open when you go into Ledlington, because it saves trouble when you get back late.” She laughed a little. “You needn’t be afraid—I shan’t give you away.”
    Mrs. Snagge sniffed and gulped.
    â€œAnd what difference could it have made when all’s said and done, with the other drive that’s never had no gates to it, not in my time nor in Snagge’s anyway, and nothing to stop anyone going up it day nor night?”
    â€œWell, the burglar came this way—didn’t he?” said Lucilla, and then she jumped on her bicycle again and rode up the drive.
    Sarah followed her. The drive was newly gravelled and neatly swept. The marks of the burglar’s tyres must have been quite easy to see.
    They came out upon a wide flat space before the house and left their bicycles leaning against the wall.
    There is always something mournful about an empty house. Holme Fallow was beautiful, but it looked dead. The ground-floor windows were shuttered, and those above shut close, and blank. Lucilla looked up, frowning, and then led the way round to the side door which Sarah remembered only too well. That was where the other drive came up, and this was where she had stood in the dark and seen the lighted window spring suddenly into view. Those were the steps which she had mounted.
    Silence continued to be golden.
    They went along the passage and into the big hall, which was nearly as dark as it had been at night. No—once your eyes got accustomed to the change, it was only dusk that filled it and not darkness. The stairs went up at the far end, and they went up into the light, as if there were a window which lighted them just round the turn. They went up to a small landing, divided, and went on again. The window which lighted them was round the left-hand turn.
    Sarah nodded. Yes, of course, that was it—that was the window at which she had seen the light, and the burglar had been coming down the stairs.
    Lucilla came close up to her and put a hand on her arm.
    â€œDo you have feelings about houses? What does Holme Fallow feel like?”
    Sarah considered. She had come into it happily enough, and then she had been frightened. But that was because of the burglar; it had nothing to do with the house. She tried to put all that out of her thoughts and start fresh. After a moment she said tentatively,
    â€œIt’s—old—”
    â€œSome of it’s sixteenth-century. The front is Queen Anne.”
    Sarah tried