"Not inside the gymnasium, certainly. Miss Rouse locked it as usual last night and gave the key to Giddy, and he unlocked it just after first bell this morning."
"Then there is no alternative to the theory that for once Rouse was too casual. She was the last to leave the place and the first to come back to it-you wouldn't get anyone there at that hour of the morning who wasn't under the direst compulsion-so the blame is Rouse's. And let us be thankful for it. It is bad enough as it is, but it would be far worse if someone else had been careless and had to bear the knowledge that she was responsible for-"
The bell rang for Prayers, and downstairs the telephone shrilled in its own hysterical manner.
"Have you marked the place in the Prayer book?" Lux asked.
"Where the blue ribbon is," Miss Hodge said, and hurried out to the telephone.
"Has Froken not come back?" asked Madame, appearing in the doorway. "Ah, well, let us proceed. Life must go on, if I may coin a phrase. And let us hope that this morning's ration of uplift is not too apposite. Holy Writ has a horrible habit of being apposite."
Not for the first time, Lucy wished Madame Lefevre on a lonely island off Australia.
It was a silent and subdued gathering that awaited them, and Prayers proceeded in an atmosphere of despondency that was foreign and unprecedented. But with the hymn they recovered a little. It was Blake's and had a fine martial swing, and they sang it with a will. So did Lucy.
"Nor shall the sword sleep in my hand," she sang, making the most of it. And stopped suddenly, hit in the wind.
Hit in the wind by a jolt that left her speechless.