The Murdered Schoolgirl: A Classic Crime Novel. John Russell Fearn
“We’ve got to tell Miss Black,” Vera said. “We’ll have to! Come on—”
So they turned and ran all the way back to the school, came through the gates like track runners, to be followed by the amazed stares of the girls lounging about the quadrangle. Breathless and dusty, the three finally reached Maria’s study and blundered in after each other without as much as a knock.
“Girls! Girls!” Maria cried imperiously, jumping to her feet. “Such unseemly behaviour! Remember where you are!”
“It’s—it’s Frances!” Vera babbled, “She’s been hung!”
“She’s been what?”
“She’s hanging there in Bollin’s Wood,” Cynthia Vane went on hysterically. “We’ve just seen her! Tied up to a tree by her neck. Her wrists and ankles, bound. A gag in her mouth— And Joan Dawson and Beryl Mather are there, too, senseless. Oh, this is awful.… I think I’m going to faint.”
“Steady, girls,” Maria breathed, her face sternly set. “Steady, I say! This is a desperately serious matter.… Here, I’ll come back with you right away.”
She turned, slipped on her hat and coat, then accompanied the girls outside. The stares were more prolonged than ever at the sight of the usually majestic Maria speeding along with her hat slightly awry and three chattering girls with her.
In seven minutes flat they were at the site of the tragedy, and Maria paused for a moment as the terrible scene confronted her. Then, getting a hold of herself, she went over to the hanging girl and stared up at her. There was not the least doubt of the fact that she was dead. Her eyes were starting horribly and her face had the dull purple tint of strangulation. Across her mouth, wedged between the teeth, was the rough gag.… Maria gave a little shiver, then felt the girl’s tied hands. They were warm.
“Webster,” she said briefly, turning to the startled Molly, “go to the village police station immediately and fetch Inspector Morgan back with you. Tell him what has happened and ask him to fetch a doctor with him. Hurry!”
“Yes, Miss Black!” And the girl went at top speed.
Then Maria transferred her attention to Joan and Beryl. Joan did not seem far from recovering consciousness, but Beryl was out cold. Maria’s hand detected the lump on the back of the fat girl’s head, which had obviously been the cause of her collapse. As far as Joan was concerned there was no such evidence: perhaps shock had done it in her case.
In a few moments both girls were unfastened, Joan proving the easiest to untie. Maria went to work to revive them while Vera Randal was sent to the nearest house in the lane for water. In ten minutes both girls were looking about them, dazed and breathless.
“What on earth happened—?” Joan whispered moving stiffly. “I was— Oh, I remember! Something hit me in the jaw! Oh, it’s you, Miss Black!” Startled realisation of something wrong came suddenly into her pale face. Her eyes moved and rested finally on the swinging body. “Ohh!” Her voice was a screech. “It’s—it’s Frances! Look—look—!”
“Steady, steady,” Maria murmured, patting her arm. “Just keep a hold on yourself, my dear—and don’t look towards that tree more than you have to—”
“But—but she’s hanging!” Beryl Mather whispered, staring at the body as though trying to understand it. “How is she—?” Then suddenly it dawned on her what horrible implication was behind it, and her big body started to shake with something between tears and explosions of fear.
Altogether, Maria had her hands full for the next few minutes trying to force both girls to calm themselves. Gradually they did so: they could do little else in Maria’s masterful presence,
“You were hit on the head, Beryl, weren’t you?” Maria asked.
She nodded painfully. “And it still aches horribly, m’m. I was trying to free myself when something hit me on the head and I passed out.”
“Free yourself?” Maria repeated sharply.
“All three of us were left tied up,” Joan said looking up at Vera Randal. “Then we had our shoes taken off and were left to walk or jump back to the stile by the lane—”
“Indeed!” Maria turned a grim face to Vera. “From the look I saw Joan just give you, young lady, I imagine you had something to do with the matter?”
“Yes,” the big girl acknowledged sheepishly. And without any further hesitation she told the whole story, finishing lamely, “It was only meant as a joke—and it finished like this!”
Maria tightened her lips then she glanced up at sudden sounds in the undergrowth and three figures appeared—Inspector Morgan, whom she knew quite well, Dr. Roberts, who did most of the local police medical work, and the still scared Molly Webster.
“This is a pretty horrible business, Miss Black,” Morgan said, his eyes on the body. “This girl has been telling me all about it—”
“I left the body as it is until you have examined it,” Maria answered, then she stood at the side of the inspector and watched as Dr. Roberts studied the body intently from various angles. At length he gave a nod.
“We can take it down now, Inspector,” he said. It was no easy job. Morgan had to climb up the tree and along the branch to grapple with a thrice-knotted cord, while the doctor supported the body from below to take off the strain. But it was done finally, and the late Frances Hasleigh was laid down gently in the undergrowth and the cord and gag were removed.… Then came the task of unfastening her hands. Here again there were tight triple knots to wrestle with.
“Somebody certainly didn’t mean her getting free,” Morgan breathed finally, when at last the job was done. “All right, Doctor, it’s your province now.”
Roberts nodded and went to work. It was nearly ten minutes later before he had finished his diagnosis.
“Obviously death from strangulation,” he said grimly, getting to his feet. “She has been dead for a little over an hour. There is also a faint bruise on the back of her neck under each ear. They were inflicted before death. Near as I can judge they might have been caused by the pressure of somebody’s hand.… That’s about all I can tell you—Oh, except for one thing.” Roberts picked up his bag and glanced across at Maria.
“This was about the oldest pupil you ever had in your college, madam. From her teeth and general development I judge her at least twenty-three. Does that interest you?”
“Definitely it does,” Maria nodded, “but it does not entirely surprise me. I had already suspected it.”
“Up to you now, Inspector.” Roberts turned to go. “I’ll see you in the Coroner’s court. Good evening, Miss Black—”
For a moment the inspector stood frowning thoughtfully.
“The body will either have to be taken back to your school, Miss Black, or else to the mortuary until her parents can be fetched.… Which do you suggest?”
“The mortuary hardly fits the case, Inspector,” Maria replied, reflecting. “After all, the college is—or was—her home for the time being, and it is there she should be taken now. But I must ask you to bear in mind that I have hundreds of girls under my care, so please wait until darkness has fallen, then have her brought in an ambulance. I’ll meet you at the school gates at ten o’clock and we’ll have her locked in a private bedroom in the visitors’ wing. I am sure that that will be best.”
He nodded. “Very well. I’ll see to that and notify the Coroner. For the moment I just want the immediate details. Who found the body in the first place?”
“We did,” Vera Randal volunteered, nodding to her pals. “We were playing a joke on Frances and her two friends here. We left them bound and gagged, then took their shoes and put them by the stile in the lane. We wanted them to hop their way out of the wood.… When after