Run! Read Free

of the fog! I do hope they won’t pinch my bicycle.”
    â€œWhy should they?”
    â€œThey might.”
    Well, they couldn’t pinch the Rolls, because he had locked the doors and the switch key was in his pocket. All the same—
    â€œYou haven’t told me what it’s all about. And I’m not staying here—I’m going back to my car. And what we both ought to do is to find the nearest police-station and put them on to the lunatic who was shooting at us. Unless—” A sudden thought struck him. “I suppose he might have thought we were burglars, but it was a bit drastic shooting like that. He might have hit one of us quite easily.”
    There was a faint laugh.
    â€œHe meant to. And you can’t be a burglar in the afternoon. It has to be half-past eight or something like that. And anyhow it isn’t their house.”
    â€œWhose house?”
    â€œTheirs.”
    â€œWhose house is it?”
    â€œHow should I know?” enquired a very small, innocent voice.
    James felt properly angry.
    â€œWhat’s the good of trying to put that sort of stuff across when you’ve just been leading me round blind? You’ve got to know a place like the back of your hand before you can do that!”
    She laughed again, a little nearer.
    â€œPerhaps it’s the cradle of my infancy.”
    â€œI’m going back to my car,” said James.
    His wrist was caught.
    â€œI should hate you to. If you got shot, they might think I’d done it. Let’s stay here and tell each other the stories of our lives. I’ll begin. I’m sure you’d love to hear the story of my life.”
    â€œNot particularly. I want to make sure my car’s all right.”
    â€œAre you going to leave me here?” He wasn’t sure if the voice was quite steady. There was very little of it. He said,
    â€œI could drop you if you’ll tell me where you want to go.”
    She seemed to consider this.
    â€œI shouldn’t think we’d get farther than the nearest ditch—not in a fog like this. The lanes round here are exactly like corkscrews. And then there’s my bicycle, and my shoes.”
    â€œYour what ?” said James in an exasperated voice.
    â€œShoes. Things you wear on your feet, you know. Rather a nice pair—crocodiles—quite new. I don’t think I ought to abandon them.”
    James became a good deal more exasperated. It wasn’t the slightest use her doing that sort of mournful tone at him. If it had been light, she would probably have been flickering her eyelashes. He hadn’t got a sister, but he had fourteen girl cousins, and he flattered himself he knew all their ways of trying it on. He couldn’t imagine what sort of game this was, and that naturally put his back up, but he did know when a girl was trying it on. He said,
    â€œWhat have you got on now?”
    There was a little sigh in the darkness.
    â€œA felt hat, a jumper suit, a tweed coat. They’re all brown, if you want the colours.”
    â€œI don’t. I want to know what you’ve got on your feet.”
    â€œStockings,” said the voice very mournfully in the dark.
    So that was why she had made no sound as she ran. If she thought he was going to say “Your feet must be soaked,” she was going to be disappointed.
    He said, “Why?”
    â€œWell, you see, those stairs make such a noise. There isn’t any stair carpet, and the fourth one from the bottom creaks, so I took them off—the shoes, you know, my beautiful new crocodiles—and left them in the hall just round the corner from the bottom step, because I thought if I carried them I’d be almost sure to drop them at some frightfully critical moment.”
    James frowned. Of all the silly idiotic things to do—
    â€œYou mean they’re still in the hall?”
    â€œYes, kind Preserver.”
    James considered the shoe question. If she had walked