563296589345

would be a week at least before he went! If she rode with him four times more, or three times–even if
it were only twice, all might yet be well. Please God he would come back to her soon! It was
unthinkable that when he came, it would only be to say good-bye! The two women went down to the
Club each evening and sat there until quite late at night, listening for Verrall’s footsteps outside while
seeming not to listen; but he never appeared. Ellis, who understood the situation perfectly, watched
Elizabeth with spiteful amusement. What made it worst of all was that Mr Lackersteen was now
pestering Elizabeth unceasingly. He had become quite reckless. Almost under the eyes of the servants
he would waylay her, catch hold of her and begin pinching and fondling her in the most revolting way.
Her sole defence was to threaten that she would tell her aunt; happily he was too stupid to realise that
she would never dare do it.
On the third morning Elizabeth and her aunt arrived at the Club just in time to escape a violent
storm of rain. They had been sitting in the lounge for a few minutes when they heard the sound of
someone stamping the water off his shoes in the passage. Each woman’s heart stirred, for this might
be Verrall. Then a young man entered the lounge, unbuttoning a long raincoat as he came. He was a
stout, rollicking, chuckle-headed youth of about twenty-five, with fat fresh cheeks, butter-coloured
hair, no forehead, and, as it turned out afterwards, a deafening laugh.
Mrs Lackersteen made some inarticulate sound–it was jerked out of her by her disappointment. The
youth, however, hailed them with immediate bonhomie, being one of those who are on terms of slangy
intimacy with everyone from the moment of meeting them.
‘Hullo, hullo!’ he said. ‘Enter the fairy prince! Hope I don’t sort of intrude and all that? Not
shoving in on any family gatherings or anything?’
‘Not at all!’ said Mrs Lackersteen in surprise.
‘What I mean to say–thought I’d just pop in at the Club and have a glance round, don’t you know.
Just to get acclimatised to the local brand of whisky. I only got here last night.’
‘Are you stationed here?’ said Mrs Lackersteen, mystified–for they had not been expecting any
newcomers.
‘Yes, rather. Pleasure’s mine, entirely.’
‘But we hadn’t heard… Oh, of course! I suppose you’re from the Forest Department? In place of
poor Mr Maxwell?’
‘What? Forest Department? No fear! I’m the new Military Police bloke, you know.’
‘The–what?’
‘New Military Police bloke. Taking over from dear ole Verrall. The dear ole chap’s got orders to
go back to his regiment. Going off in a fearful hurry. And a nice mess he’s left everything in for yours
truly, too.’
The Military Policeman was a crass youth, but even he noticed that Elizabeth’s face turned
suddenly sickly. She found herself quite unable to speak. It was several seconds before Mrs
Lackersteen managed to exclaim.
‘Mr Verrall–going? Surely he isn’t going away yet?’
‘Going? He’s gone!’
‘Gone?’