“Yes,” I said. “I did get a telegram.”

“You fetch him, yes? Fetch him now.”

I ground my teeth, but what could I do. I ran upstairs again. As I did so, I thought of confiding in Mrs. Pearson, at any rate as far as Cinderella’s disappearance went. She was on the landing, but close behind her was the little maidservant, and I hesitated. If she was a spy⁠—the words of the note danced before my eyes: “… she will suffer⁠ ⁠…” I passed into the sitting room without speaking.