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Borstal—”
    “How stupid of him,” Miss Coates said unflatteringly. “Quite apart from anything else, he had only to look at your hands. I doubt very much if a Borstal girl would have such beautifully manicured nails as you have!”
    “Oh!” Rosamund gave a little start and looked frightened. “I didn’t think of that—how stupid of me!”
    Miss Coates made no comment, but she stored the remark up for future consideration since she felt that it could be interpreted in more than one way.
    “Go on, dear,” she encouraged.
    Rosamund drew a long breath.
    “He was wrong about Borstal or that I had run away from school. But he was right about me being a runaway.” She paused, looking doubtfully at Miss Coates.
    “But you don’t want to tell me why or from what?” Miss Coates suggested. “Now listen to me, Rosamund. All of us need to escape from something or somebody at some time or other in our lives. Sometimes it’s a wise thing to do, sometimes not. I think I’m wise in spending as much time as I can down here. You see, I don’t like limelight very much and I detest being lionised—”
    “Oh!” Rosamund leaned forward. “Why, of course, I should have remembered before. You’re the artist who painted that lovely portrait of Her Majesty the Queen! ”
    “And a most enjoyable task that was!” Miss Coates nodded. “None the less, it had the effect of putting me in the public eye, which was advantageous in a financial sense, but—” she made a little grimace. “Perhaps it sounds rather affected, but to do decent work, one has to belong to oneself, and beyond a certain point too much publicity makes that impossible. So, except when I’m actually working on a portrait, I rusticate down here and paint watercolours of birds and water scenes. So far, though I’ve earned the name for being eccentric, no one has discovered my hideout—and I sincerely hope they never do!” And she looked gravely at Rosamund.
    “No one ever will from me,” she promised earnestly. “And thank you for trusting me, Miss Coates.” She stopped short, feeling embarrassed.
    “But though I’ve told you my secret, you’d still prefer not to tell me yours? All right, I accept that, but I would like you to answer one or two questions. For instance, are you married?”
    “No, I’m not,” Rosamund met her eyes squarely. “Nor have I done anything against the law. It’s just that—” she paused and then took the plunge. “You run away from lots of people. I’m running away from one. Someone I both live and work with. I—I’ve already told her several times that I want to break away and make a fresh start on my own, only she doesn’t understand—”
    “Probably doesn’t want to,” Miss Coates suggested dryly. “I’ve met that sort. They see other people only as adjuncts to their own lives—most exhausting. Makes you feel absolutely drained of all personality.”
    “You do understand,” Rosamund exclaimed gratefully. But do you, see that because it is just one person, I don’t want to say who it is?”
    “Yes, I see that,” Miss Coates nodded, wondering whether the girl realised how much, in spite of her caution, she was actually giving away, “All the same, isn’t there a possibility of quite reasonable enquiries being lade, possibly by the police? After all, when an attractive girl just vanishes into the blue—”
    “I left a letter which explained everything very clearly,” Rosamund assured her. “And I don’t think my— she would like the sort of publicity that an enquiry would ring—”
    “Probably not,” Miss Coates agreed. “Well, that’s all right, then! Now, let’s be practical. About your purse. Do you remember the name of the garage where you got your petrol and where it was?”
    “I didn’t notice the name and I’m not very sure of where it was. Marlborough was the last big town I’d gone through. It was some miles beyond that and it was on an open stretch of the road and on my