Towards Zero Read Free Page A

She had personality—a great deal of personality, she was enlightened and up to date, and she combined discipline with modern ideas of self-determination.
    Her room was representative of the spirit of Meadway. Everything was of a cool oatmeal colour—there were big jars of daffodils and bowls of tulips and hyacinths. One or two good copies of the antique Greek, two pieces of advanced modern sculpture, two Italian primitives on the walls. In the midst of all this, Miss Amphrey herself, dressed in a deep shade of blue, with an eager face suggestive of a conscientious greyhound, and clear blue eyes looking serious through thick lenses.
    â€œThe important thing,” she was saying in her clear well-modulated voice, “is that this should be taken the right way. It is the girl herself we have to think of, Mr. Battle. Sylvia herself! It is most important— most important, that her life should not be crippled in any way. She must not be made to assume a burden of guilt —blame must be very very sparingly meted out, if at all. We must arrive at the reason behind these quite trivial pilferings. A sense of inferiority, perhaps? She is not good at games, you know—an obscure wish to shine in a different sphere—the desire to assert her ego? We must be very very careful. That is why I wanted to see you alonefirst—to impress upon you to be very very careful with Sylvia. I repeat again, it’s very important to get at what is behind this.”
    â€œThat, Miss Amphrey,” said Superintendent Battle, “is why I have come down.”
    His voice was quiet, his face unemotional, his eyes surveyed the school mistress appraisingly.
    â€œI have been very gentle with her,” said Miss Amphrey.
    Battle said laconically:
    â€œGood of you, Ma’am.”
    â€œYou see, I really love and understand these young things.”
    Battle did not reply directly. He said:
    â€œI’d like to see my girl now, if you don’t mind, Miss Amphrey.”
    With renewed emphasis Miss Amphrey admonished him to be careful—to go slow—not to antagonize a child just budding into womanhood.
    Superintendent Battle showed no signs of impatience. He just looked blank.
    She took him at last to her study. They passed one or two girls in the passages. They stood politely to attention but their eyes were full of curiosity. Having ushered Battle into a small room, not quite so redolent of personality as the one downstairs, Miss Amphrey withdrew and said she would send Sylvia to him.
    Just as she was leaving the room, Battle stopped her.
    â€œOne minute, Ma’am, how did you come to pitch upon Sylvia as the one responsible for these—er—leakages?”
    â€œMy methods, Mr. Battle, were psychological.”
    Miss Amphrey spoke with dignity.
    â€œPsychological? H’m. What about the evidence, Miss Amphrey?”
    â€œYes, yes, I quite understand, Mr. Battle—you would feel that way. Your—er—profession steps in. But psychology is beginning to be recognized in criminology. I can assure you that there is no mistake—Sylvia freely admits the whole thing.”
    â€œYes, yes—I know that. I was just asking how you came to pitch upon her to begin with.”
    â€œWell, Mr. Battle, this business of things being taken out of the girls’ lockers was on the increase. I called the school together and told them the facts. At the same time, I studied their faces unobtrusively. Sylvia’s expression struck me at once. It was guilty—confused. I knew at that moment who was responsible. I wanted, not to confront her with her guilt, but to get her to admit it herself. I set a little test for her—a word association.”
    Battle nodded to show he understood.
    â€œAnd finally the child admitted it all.”
    Her father said:
    â€œI see.”
    Miss Amphrey hesitated a minute, then went out.
    Battle was standing looking out of the window when the door opened