Chapter 17 Chapter 16 The Mystery of the Gymnasium

"My head is covered with blood, but I don't bow my head." Adam said to himself. He looked at Miss Bulstrode, and he thought he had never admired a woman so much as he did now.She sat there calm and composed, watching her life's work go to waste. From time to time, there were phone calls, informing that another student was leaving school. At last Miss Bulstrode made up her mind.After she had greeted the police, she called Ann Shaplan and verbally made her record a brief statement.Schools are temporarily closed until the end of term.If parents feel uncomfortable taking their children home, they are welcome to leave them in her care and their education will continue.

"Do you have a list and address of the parents? Do you have their phone numbers?" "Yes, Miss Bulstrode." "Go ahead and start calling. Send everyone a typed notice when you're done." "Yes, Miss Bulstrode." As she went out, she stopped near the door. She blushed, and the words rushed out of her mouth. "With all due respect, Miss Bulstrode, it's none of my business—yet. Isn't it a pity to make a decision too soon? I mean—after the initial panic. In the future, people will have time to think about it - and then they will certainly not take their kids out of school, they will be reasonable and look on the bright side."

Miss Bulstrode watched her keenly. "Do you think I admit defeat so easily?" Ann blushed. "I know—you'll think I'm presumptuous for saying that. But—but, well, I do think so." "I'm not admitting defeat. I'm acting on what I know about human nature. If you push parents to take their kids back, tell them to take them back - then they're less likely to do it, they'll come up with a reason Let them stay. Or at worst they decide to send their kids back to school next term - if there is another term," she added sadly. She looked at Inspector Kelsey.

"It's all up to you," she said, "solve these two murders—whoever did it, get him—and then we'll all be well." Inspector Kelsey looked sullen."We're doing the best we can," he said. Ann Shaplan walked out. "A capable girl," said Miss Bulstrode, "and loyal." "What she said was nothing more than an interjection. She stepped up the attack. Someone must have hinted at it, or warned it—it's hard to say which—" She stopped abruptly, and went on, " Don't you have any news?" "The police stations in every district are on the lookout. Kidnapping a person is fairly easy—but hiding the kidnapped is a problem. Oh, we'll find her."

"I hope you find her alive," said Miss Bulstrode sadly. "We seem to be dealing with a disregard for human life." "If they wanted to kill her, they wouldn't go to such lengths to kidnap her," Adam said. "It would be easy for them to kill her here." He felt that his last words were ominous.Miss Bulstrode glanced at him. "It seems so," she said coldly. The phone rang.Miss Bulstrode answered the phone. "Hey?" She gestured to Inspector Kelsey. "It's your phone." Adam and Miss Bulstrode watched as Kelsey answered the phone.He murmured something, jotted down a point or two in his notes, and finally said:

"I see. Alderton Priors. It's a place in Walshire. Yes, we'll cooperate, yes, Commissioner. I'll go on here then." He put down the phone and meditated for a while in silence.Then he looked up. "His Excellency received the ransom letter this morning. It was typed on a new Corolla typewriter and postmarked at Portsmouth. I'll bet it was just a smoke screen." "Where will the ransom be sent? How will it be sent?" Adam asked. "Intersection two miles north of Alderton Priors. It's a bare moor. Put the envelope with the money under the stone behind the Automobile Association office at two o'clock tomorrow morning."

"How much?" "Twenty thousand pounds," he shook his head. "I don't think that's an expert job." "What are you going to do?" asked Miss Bulstrode. Inspector Kelsey watched her.He has become another person.His office requires him to remain silent.He seemed to be covered by a cloak. "Miss, this is not my responsibility alone." He said, "We have our own way." "I hope your approach will succeed," said Miss Bulstrode. "Should be easy," Adam said. "Not a connoisseur?" said Miss Bulstrode, catching on to what they were saying. "I don't know . . . "

Then she said sternly: "What about my faculty? What about the rest? Should I trust them, or shouldn't I trust them?" Inspector Kelsey hesitated.She said again: "You're worried that if you tell me who hasn't been cleared of suspicion, I'll show it in my every move. You're wrong, I won't." "I don't think you will," said Kelsey, "but I can't take any chances. On the face of it, it doesn't look like there's a single member of your faculty who we'd want me to have. At least as things stand. So, because we haven't been able to scrutinize them. We pay special attention to the new arrivals this term--that is, Miss Blancher, Miss Springer, and your secretary, Miss Shapland. Miss Shapland's past experience is It's perfectly clear. She's the daughter of a retired general. Her previous positions are consistent with what she says, and her former employers can testify for her. In addition, she has proof that she was not at the scene when the incident happened last night. When Miss Vansittart was killed she was in a nightclub with a Mr. Dennis Rasperth, where they were both well known. Mr. Rathbone was of excellent character. Brown Miss Xie's previous experience has also been checked. She has taught in a school in the north of England and in two schools in Germany. The school where she worked has given her excellent reviews. It is said that she is a Wait for the teacher."

"Not by our standards," said Miss Bulstrode disapprovingly. "Her background in France has also been checked. As for Miss Springer, no final conclusions can be drawn. The place of her training is as she said, but there are some gaps in her employment. cannot be fully explained." "However, as she has been murdered," added the inspector, "it seems to dispel suspicion." "I agree," said Miss Bulstrode flatly. "Miss Springer and Miss Vansittart are both dead and cannot be suspects. Let's be reasonable. Miss Blanche's background is irrefutable. Is it the fault that she is a suspect just because she is still alive?"

"She could have done both murders. She was here last night, in the building," Kelsey said. There's nothing to prove that she's lying. But Miss Chadwick says she's cunning." Miss Bulstrode shook her hand impatiently in contempt. "She has opinions about them." She glanced at Adam, "What do you think?" "I think she's nosy," Adam said calmly. "Maybe it's a natural curiosity. Maybe something else. I can't make up my mind. She doesn't look like a murderer to me. But Who knows?" "That's the problem," said Kelsey, "and neither of them had anything to do with Miss Springer's death. Miss Rich has been with you for over a year, and last night she lived twenty miles away Alton Grange Hotel. Miss Blake is in Littleport with friends. Miss Roth has been with you for a year, and she has a clean background. As for your servants, to be honest, I don't see Which of them would be the murderer. They're all local..."

Miss Bulstrode nodded cheerfully. "I'm all for your reasoning. That leaves nothing to doubt. Isn't it? So—" She broke off, looking at Adam reproachfully, "it must be—seems like You must have done it." He opened his mouth wide in surprise. "You were there," she said thoughtfully, "to give an excuse for why you're here. The background is perfectly fine, but you know, you could be a hypocrite too." Adam settled down. "Really, Miss Bulstrode," he said admiringly, "I salute you. You really have thought of everything." "Good heavens!" cried Mrs. Sutcliffe, at breakfast, "Henry!" She has just opened her newspaper. There were only her and her husband at the two ends of the dinner table.The weekend guests have yet to show up. Mr. Sutcliffe, turning to the financial pages of his paper, was absorbed in reading the unforeseen ups and downs of certain stocks, without answering his wife. "Henry!" The loud cry finally made him hear it.He looked up, panicked. "Joan, what's the matter?" "What is it? Another murder! Yerba Meadows! Jennifer's school." "What? Here, let me see!" Mr. Sutcliff stooped over the table and snatched the paper from his wife's hand, in spite of his wife's remark that it would be in his paper. "Miss Eleanor Vansittart...the gymnasium...the same place where Miss Springer, the gym teacher, was killed...well...well...." "I can't believe it," lamented Mrs. Sutcliffe, " Fangcao, such a good school for girls of a famous family. The royal children go to school there, and other..." Mr. Sutcliffe crumpled up the newspaper and threw it on the table. "There's only one thing to do," he said, "you go right away and get Jennifer out." "You mean take her away—out of school?" "That's what I mean." "Don't you think it's too much? Rosamund took so much trouble to get her in, and now she's dropping out?" "The girl's school is going to have a lot of vacancies soon." "Oh, Henry. Do you really think so?" "Yes, I think so. Things are very wrong there. Bring Jennifer back today." "Well—of course—I think maybe you're right. What shall we do with her?" "Send her to a modern high school somewhere around here. They don't have murders there." "Oh, Henry, they had murders too. Don't you remember? There was a school where a boy shot and killed the science teacher. It was in the News of the World last week." "I don't know what Britain is going to be like," said Mr Sutcliffe. He threw the napkin on the table in disgust and strode out of the room. Adam was alone in the gym...his skilled fingers rummaging through the cupboards.It seemed unlikely that he would find what the police could not, but who could tell.As Kelsey said, each department takes a slightly different approach. What is it that connects this expensive modern building with the sudden murder?The idea of ​​coming here for a date can be ruled out.No one would go on a second date with the place where the murder happened. It occurred to him again that there might be something here that someone was looking for.Probably a box of jewels.This can be ruled out.There are no secret hiding places here, no fake drawers, traps or the like.The contents of the cupboards are pitifully simple.There are secrets here, but they are the secrets of school life.Pictures of adoring men to hang, packs of cigarettes, and the occasional cheap paperback book unsuitable for students.He made a point of going back to Shesta's cupboard.It was there that Miss Vansittart was killed while bending over.What did Miss Vansittart want to find here?Did she find it?Could her murderer have snatched such a thing out of her hands, and slipped out in time without Miss Chadwick's noticing? There is nothing to see in this cabinet, and if there was anything, it is gone. The sound of footsteps outside woke him up from his contemplation.When Julie Ji and Upjohn appeared at the door, he was already standing in the middle of the hall, lighting a cigarette.Julie Ji looked a little hesitant. "What do you want, miss?" Adam asked. "I want to hold my tennis racket, don't know if it's okay." "There's nothing wrong with it. The chief of police left me here," he lied, explaining, "He's back at the police station on business and told me to stay here while he's not here." "I guess I'm staying here to see if he'll come back?" Julie Ji said. "You mean the Chief of Police?" "No, I mean the murderer. The murderer will come back, won't he? To the scene of the crime. They had to. There was a force that compelled them to do so." "Maybe you're right." Adam looked up at the rows of rackets in the cabinet, "Which one is yours?" "Under the letter U," Julie said dumbly. "It's at the end. It has our names on it." She explained, pointing to the sticking plaster on the racket he handed her. "Been using it for a while," Adam said. "It used to be a pretty good racket." "Can I take Jennifer Sutcliffe's beat again?" Julia asked. "This one is new," he said appreciatively as he handed it to her. "Brand new," Julia said. "Her aunt just sent it to her the other day." "She's lucky." "She should have a good racquet. She's a great tennis player. Her backhand has been incredible this term." She looked around. "Don't you think he's coming back?" It took Adam a moment to catch what she meant. "Oh, do you mean the murderer? No, I don't think that's very likely. Isn't that a little risky?" "Don't you think the murderers felt they had to come back?" "No, unless he left something at the scene." "A lead you mean? I'd love to find a lead. Did the police find a lead?" "They won't tell me." "No, I don't think they will... Are you interested in crime?" She looked at him curiously.He glanced back at her.She didn't look like a grown woman at all.She must have been about Shesta's age, but there was nothing in her eyes but interested curiosity about things. "Well - I think - in a way - we're all interested." Julia nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I think so too... I can think of all sorts of ways to solve a case - but most of them are fanciful. But it's also very interesting." "Don't you like Miss Vansittart?" "I never thought of her. She was nice, sort of like Bull--Miss Bulstrode--but not really. She was more like a theater understudy. I don't mean her death was a Funny thing. I'm saddened by her death." She took two rackets and walked out. Adam stayed to patrol the gym. "What could ever have been here?" he murmured. "Jesus," Jennifer said, letting Julia's forehand drive pass instead of catching it. "Mom is here!" The two girls turned to watch the agitated figure of Mrs Sutcliffe, escorted by Miss Rich, hurrying this way, gesticulating as she went, "I guess there's going to be another big row." There's trouble." Jennifer said helplessly, "It's all about the murder case. Lucky you, Julia, your mother is in Turkey, sitting safe and sound on a bus." "But here is Aunt Isabel." "Auntie won't be so nosy." "Hello, mother," she continued, as Mrs. Sutcliffe approached. "You have to pack your bags, Jennifer. I'll take you home." "Going home?" "yes." "But—you don't mean to drop out of school, do you? You don't mean never to come again?" "I mean something like this." "But you can't do that - really can't. I'm pretty good at tennis now. I'll probably win the singles. Julia and I might win the doubles, though I don't think it's very likely." .” "You come home with me today." "why?" "Don't ask questions." "I'm only three weeks away from the Games. I think I'll be first in the long jump, and I have a good chance of winning the hurdles." "You must go back." "But, mother—" Jennifer followed her mother toward the house, arguing stubbornly along the way. Suddenly she left her mother and ran to the tennis court. "Good-bye, Julia. Looks like my mother is totally freaked out. My dad is too. It's annoying, isn't it? I'll write to you." "I'll write to you too. I'll tell you everything that happens here." "I hope it's not Chady they're going to kill next. I'd rather it be Mademoiselle Blanche, and you?" "Yes, she's the most embarrassing of us. Well, have you noticed how ugly Miss Rich looks?" "She didn't say a word. Mother came to take me away, and she was very angry." "Maybe she'll stop your mother from taking you back. Isn't she very convincing? She's not like the others." "She reminds me of someone," Jennifer said. "I don't think she's the same as anyone. She always seems to be different." "Oh, yes, there's something about her. I mean in appearance. But the one I knew was rather fat." "It's hard for me to imagine Miss Rich being fat." "Jennifer..." Mrs. Thackley called. "I find being a parent a pain in the ass," Jennifer said angrily. "Fuss, fuss, fuss. They never stop. I feel lucky for you—" "I know. You said it. But, to tell you the truth, I wish my mother was closer to me right now. Not on a bus in Anatolia." "Jennifer..." "Here we come..." Julia strolled toward the gymnasium.She walked more and more slowly, and finally stopped altogether, and stood there, frowning, thinking. The lunch bell rang, but she hardly heard it.Staring down at the racket in her hand, she took a step or two along the path.Then, turning suddenly, she strode resolutely toward the house.She walked in through the door.The gate was closed, so she avoided meeting other schoolgirls.The hall is empty.She ran up the stairs into her cubicle, looked around hastily, then lifted the quilt on her bed and tucked the racket under.Then, quickly smoothing her hair down, she walked down the stairs with demure demeanor, toward the dining room.