Chapter 23 fourth quarter

On the way home, Joanna told me that I really shouldn't have mentioned the fact that Nash said the anonymous letter would appear. "why?" "Because Mrs. Cathorpe may be the one who wrote the anonymous letter." "You don't really think so, do you?" "I'm not sure either. She's a strange woman." So we discussed the possibilities again. One night two days later I hitchhiked back from Exampton.I didn't start until after dinner there, so it was dark when I got back to Lynstack. There was something wrong with the headlights, and I had no choice but to get out of the car and try to figure it out.After a while, it was finally fixed.

This road is very deserted, after dark, no one in Linstak walks near here.There used to be a few houses, including a humble girls' school.Seeing it looming under the faint starlight, I suddenly felt an urge to take a closer look.I don't know if I saw a mysterious figure pass through the gate - even if there is, I can't be sure, I just feel a sudden curiosity about this. The gate was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open and walked in, through a short path and four steps, to the main entrance. I stood there hesitating for a while, what on earth am I trying to do?Even I don't know it myself.But suddenly, I heard a rustling sound like a woman's clothes.

I turned around abruptly and walked towards the corner where the sound came from. With no one in sight, I went around a corner to the back of the house.Just here I saw a window open two feet ahead. I climbed up the window, and there was no sound, but I was sure there must be someone in the room. At the moment, my back isn't quite ready for climbing up and down, but I try to land myself on the windowsill in the house.Unfortunately, it still makes a little noise. I just stood at the window and listened intently, then walked forward again, groping forward with both hands.At this time, I heard a faint voice from the front right.

I had a flashlight in my pocket, so I took it out and turned it on. Immediately a low, high-pitched voice said, "Turn it off." I did so at once, for in that brief instant I had seen that it was Inspector Nash. He grabbed my arm and pushed me through a door into a hallway.Standing in this place, others will not be able to see our movement from the window. He looked at me with regret. "Why did you barge in at that moment, Mr. Burton?" "I'm sorry," I said apologetically, "because I suspected I was in trouble." "It's quite possible, did you see anyone?"

I hesitated. "Not sure," I said slowly, "I had a vague feeling that someone was slipping in through the gate, but I didn't really 'see' anything. Then I heard rustling from the side of the house. Voice." Nash nodded, "That's right, someone came to this room a step earlier than you. He—or she—has hesitated by the window, and then walked away quickly—I think he heard your voice." After a second apology, I asked, "What are you going to do?" Nash said: "I am relying on a belief that the author of the anonymous letter will not terminate the anonymous letter. She may know that doing so is dangerous, but she has to continue writing, just like being addicted to alcohol or drugs."

I nod. "You know, Mr. Burton, I think whoever wrote the anonymous letter wanted it to look as good as possible. She's already cut enough pages out of that book to go on cutting and scraping the letter, But the envelope is a problem, and she would certainly like to be typed on the same typewriter, and would not risk another's or her own." "Do you really think she's going to continue this game?" I asked in disbelief. "Yeah, I'm sure, and I'll bet she's full of self-confidence. That's the kind of person that's so vain! Anyway, I'm sure whoever that person is is going to sneak in and use that typewriter after dark."

"Miss King?" I said. "Maybe." "You don't know yet." "Yeah, don't 'know' yet." "But you doubt it." "Yes, but that man is very clever, Mr. Burton, and knows all about anonymous letters." I can imagine all kinds of measures that the cashier has laid down. I believe that the police will check the letters sent by any suspect immediately. Sooner or later, the prisoner will relax his vigilance and show his feet. I apologized to Nash again for being too zealous and ruining his plans. "Oh, forget it," Nash said calmly, "It's too late now, I hope you will have better luck next time."

I walked into the dark night, and a vague figure stood in front of my car.To my surprise, it turned out to be Megan. "Hi!" she said, "I think this is your car. What are you doing?" "What you're doing here is the important question," I said. "Go out for a walk. I've always liked walking at night. No one will stop you and say something ridiculous. And I like the stars. The air is fresher at night, and things look more mysterious." "You're right," I said, "but only cats and witches go out for walks at night, and the family is worried about you."

"No, no, they never asked me where I was or what I was doing." "How are you lately?" I asked. "I guess it's probably all right." "Miss Helan takes care of everything for you?" "Elsie is not bad, but it's a pity that she is a born fool." "That's cruel—but maybe it's true," I said. "Jump in the car and I'll take you home." If no one ever cared about Meghan, it's not entirely true. Symington was standing on the doorstep as we drove closer to his house. He looked at us: "Hi, is Meghan in the car?"

"Yes," I said, "I brought her back." Symington said sternly: "You can't go out like this without saying a word, Megan. Miss Holland has been worried about you." Megan murmured something, then walked past him into the house. Simmington sighed, "It's really a heavy responsibility when a girl grows up without a mother to take care of her. I think she's too old to go to school." He looked at me suspiciously and said: "I think you drove her for a ride" I think it's better not to answer.