Cat Among the Pigeons

III

Adam whistled cheerfully as he tacked up the wire netting round the tennis court. The door of the Sports Pavilion opened and Mademoiselle Blanche, the little mousy French mistress, looked out. She seemed startled at the sight of Adam. She hesitated for a moment and then went back inside.

“Wonder what she's been up to,” said Adam to himself. It would not have occurred to him that Mademoiselle Blanche had been up to anything, if it had not been for her manner. She had a guilty look which immediately roused surmise in his mind. Presently she came out again, closing the door behind her, and paused to speak as she passed him.

“Ah, you repair the netting, I see?”

“Yes, miss.”

“They are very fine courts here, and the swimming pool and the pavilion too. Oh, le sport! You think a lot in England of le sport, do you not?”

“Well, I suppose we do, miss.”

“Do you play tennis yourself?” Her eyes appraised him in a definitely feminine way and with a faint invitation in her glance. Adam wondered once more about her. It struck him that Mademoiselle Blanche was a somewhat unsuitable French mistress for Meadowbank.

“No,” he said untruthfully, “I don't play tennis. Haven't got the time.”

“You play the cricket, then?”

“Oh, well, I played cricket as a boy. Most chaps do.”

“I have not had much time to look around,” said Angele Blanche. “Not until today and it was so fine I thought I would like to examine the Sports Pavilion. I wish to write home to my friends in France who keep a school.”

Again Adam wondered a little. It seemed a lot of unnecessary explanation. It was almost as though Mademoiselle Blanche wished to excuse her presence out here at the Sports Pavilion. But why should she? She had a perfect right to go anywhere in the school grounds that she pleased. There was certainly no need to apologize for it to a gardener's assistant. It raised queries again in his mind. What had this young woman been doing in the Sports Pavilion?

He looked thoughtfully at Mademoiselle Blanche. It would be a good thing perhaps to know a little more about her. Subtly, deliberately, his manner changed. It was still respectful but not quite so respectful. He permitted his eyes to tell her that she was an attractive-looking young woman.

“You must find it a bit dull sometimes working in a girls' school, miss,” he said.

“It does not amuse me very much, no.”

“Still,” said Adam, “I suppose you get your times off, don't you?”

There was a slight pause. It was as though she were debating with herself. Then, he felt it was with slight regret, the distance between them was deliberately widened.

“Oh, yes,” she said, “I have very adequate time off. The conditions of employment here are excellent.” She gave him a little nod of the head. “Good morning.” She walked off toward the house.

“You've been up to something,” said Adam to himself, “in the Sports Pavilion.”

He waited till she was out of sight, then he left his work, went across to the Sports Pavilion and looked inside. But nothing that he could see was out of place. “All the same,” he said to himself, “she was up to something.”

As he came out again, he was confronted unexpectedly by Ann Shapland.

“Do you know where Miss Bulstrode is?” she asked.

“I think she's gone back to the house, miss. She was talking to Briggs just now.”

Ann was frowning.

“What are you doing in the Sports Pavilion?”

Adam was slightly taken aback. “Nasty suspicious mind she's got,” he thought. He said, with a faint insolence in his voice:

“Thought I'd like to take a look at it. No harm in looking, is there?”

“Oughn't you to be getting on with your work?”

“I've just about finished nailing the wire round the tennis court.” He turned, looking up at the building behind him. “This is new, isn't it? Must have cost a packet. The best of everything the young ladies here get, don't they?”

“They pay for it,” said Ann drily.

“Pay through the nose, so I've heard,” agreed Adam.

He felt a desire he hardly understood himself, to wound or annoy this girl. She was so cool always, so self-sufficient. He would really enjoy seeing her angry.

But Ann did not give him that satisfaction. She merely said:

“You'd better finish tacking up the netting,” and went back toward the house. Halfway there, she slackened speed and looked back. Adam was busy at the tennis wire. She looked from him to the Sports Pavilion in a puzzled manner.

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