Seventeen
E lla put down the telephone receiver, smiled to herself and came out of the public telephone box. She was pleasedwith herself.
“Chief-Inspector God Almighty¹ Craddock!” she said to herself. “I’m twice as good as he is at the job. Variationson the theme of: ‘Fly, all is discovered!’”
She pictured to herself with a good deal of pleasure the reactions recently suffered by the person at the other end ofthe line. That faint menacing whisper coming through the receiver. “I saw you….”
She laughed silently, the corners of her mouth curving up in a feline² cruel line. A student of psychology³ might havewatched her with some interest. Never until the last few days had she had this feeling of power. She was hardly awareherself of how much the heady intoxication⁴ of it affected⁵ her….
“Damn that old woman,” thought Ella. She could feel Mrs. Bantry’s eyes following her as she walked up the drive.
A phrase came into her head for no particular reason.
The pitcher⁶ goes to the well once too often….
Nonsense. Nobody could suspect that it was she who had whispered those menacing words….
She sneezed.
“Damn this hay fever,” said Ella Zielinsky.
When she came into her office, Jason Rudd was standing⁷ by the window.
He wheeled round.
“I couldn’t think where you were.”
“I had to go and speak to the gardener. There were—” she broke off as she caught sight of his face.
She asked sharply: “What is it?”
His eyes seemed set deeper in his face than ever. All the gaiety of the clown was gone. This was a man understrain. She had seen him under strain before but never looking like this.
She said again: “What is it?”
He held a sheet of paper out to her. “It’s the analysis of that coffee. The coffee that Marina complained about andwouldn’t drink.”

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