“You don’t mean Frinton-on-Sea?” exclaimed Miss Ingate, suddenly excited.
“It is on the sea,” said Jane. “We have to go through Colchester. Do you know it?”
“Do I know it!” repeated Miss Ingate. “I know everybody in Frinton, except the Germans. When I’m at home I buy my bacon at Frinton. Are you going to an hotel there?”
“No,” said Jane. “To some people named Spatt.”
“There’s nobody that is anybody named Spatt living at Frinton,” said Miss Ingate.
“They haven’t been there long.”
“Oh!” murmured Miss Ingate. “Of course if that’s it...! I can’t guarantee what’s happened since I began my pilgrimages. But I think I shall wriggle off home quietly as soon as we get to Colchester. This afternoon’s business has been too feverish for me. When the policeman held up his hand as we came through Ellsworth I thought you were caught. I shall just go home.”
“I don’t care much about going to Frinton, Jenny,” said Audrey.
Indeed, Moze lay within not many miles of Frinton-on-Sea.
Then Audrey and Miss Ingate observed a phenomenon that was both novel and extremely disturbing. Tears came into the eyes of Jane Foley.