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course, but he had a trustworthy face. She would have embarked on an account of Elsie’s accident, but was cut short when he moved a bundle of papers from one arm to the other and took a step away from her. ‘Very nice meeting you, Miss—er…’ he said vaguely, obviously thinking about something else.

      He strode off and she wondered if he would remember that they had met again just now. She thought it unlikely. A bit vague, she reflected, but I dare say clever people often are. Being clever must make one feel lonely sometimes, living, as it were, on a higher plane than those around one. Poor man, reflected Franny, going to find out where Elsie was. It was to be hoped that he had a wife and children to keep him normal.

      Professor van der Kettener, unaware of these kindly thoughts, had forgotten all about her by the time he was immersed in a bit of tricky heart surgery.

      Elsie, still looking a bit washed out, was ready and waiting, eager to get back to her job. ‘Not but what they weren’t very kind,’ she told Franny, ‘but, when all’s said and done, hospitals aren’t like home, are they?’

      When they were ready Franny hailed a taxi—much to Elsie’s delight—and on their return to Lady Trumper’s handed Elsie over to Mrs Down, who fussed over her in a motherly fashion, before Lady Trumper sent for her. Franny, sitting at the desk, writing invitation cards for one of Lady Trumper’s bridge parties, listened to her employer laying down the law—extra care in the kitchen was required and Elsie must do her best not to be so careless.

      ‘The kitchen is well equipped,’ Lady Trumper pointed out. ‘There is no excuse for carelessness. I am a most careful person myself and I expect you to be the same, Elsie. You may go.’

      Franny paused in her work. She was quite sure that Lady Trumper knew nothing about knives or kitchens or being tired and sometimes overworked. She spoke her mind without stopping to think.

      ‘I’m sure Elsie is always very careful, Lady Trumper, but she has to handle knives and all kinds of kitchen equipment. She isn’t in a position to walk away from her work if it gets too much for her. When did you last visit your kitchen, Lady Trumper?’ asked Franny outrageously.

      Lady Trumper had become really red in the face and needed to heave several deep breaths before she could speak. ‘Miss Bowen, I can hardly believe my ears. How dare you speak to me in this fashion? The impertinence…’

      ‘I don’t intend to be impertinent, Lady Trumper, but you made Elsie feel that she had done something wrong. No one in their senses cuts themselves with a kitchen knife. But, of course, sitting here for most of the day, you would find it hard to believe that.’

      ‘Miss Bowen, leave at once. I am very displeased with you.’

      Franny gave her a thoughtful look. ‘Of course you are annoyed. I expect you feel a bit guilty; one always does when one has been unfair to someone. But I’ll go, although it would be sensible if I were to finish writing these cards first. Another five minutes is all I need.’

      Lady Trumper took such a deep breath that her corsets creaked. ‘You will go now…’

      The door opened and the professor walked in.

      CHAPTER TWO

      THE professor looked at his godmother, whose blood pressure, he felt sure, was at a dangerous level, and then at Franny, composed and cheerful, obviously on the point of leaving.

      ‘Am I interrupting?’ he asked placidly.

      ‘No—yes,’ said Lady Trumper. ‘This girl has had the impertinence to criticise my treatment of one of my maids. I have dismissed her.’

      ‘Oh, I shouldn’t do anything hastily,’ said the professor. ‘This is a free country in which one may express one’s opinion without being flung into prison.’ He turned to Franny.

      ‘Were you deliberately rude, Miss—Miss…?’

      ‘Bowen,’ said Franny, and thought what a very large man he was—he would need a large house in which to live… ‘No, I don’t think so, it was just that it was something I had to say.’ She added cheerfully, ‘I should learn to hold my tongue, but I only pointed out that Elsie hadn’t cut herself deliberately. I mean, you wouldn’t, would you?’ She paused. ‘Well, I suppose if one were contemplating suicide… Lady Trumper was rather hard on the poor girl, although I’m sure she didn’t mean to be.’

      Franny gave that lady a kindly look and started to tidy the desk. ‘I’ll go.’

      The professor crossed the room and laid a large and beautifully cared for hand over hers. ‘No, no. I’m sure Lady Trumper understands now that you spoke with the best intentions.’ He turned to look at his godmother. ‘Is that not so, my dear?’

      ‘Well, yes, I suppose so…’

      ‘And Miss…’ he had forgotten her name again ‘…is entirely satisfactory in her work?’

      ‘Yes,’ said Lady Trumper, gobbling a little.

      ‘Then in that case is there any need to refine upon the matter? Elsie certainly had quite a severe cut, and it was unfortunate that it should have become infected. I’m sure that you will see that she does nothing to endanger her complete recovery.’

      He talks like a professor, thought Franny admiringly, and with an accent, too. I wonder what it sounds like when he talks in Dutch…?

      ‘I will overlook the matter,’ said Lady Trumper grandly, ‘but I must insist on no more plain speaking from Miss Bowen. My nerves are badly shaken.’

      How did one shake nerves? wondered Franny. Not that Lady Trumper had any. The professor, watching her face, allowed himself a smile. He spoke quickly before she could voice her thoughts.

      ‘I’m sure Miss Bowen will give consideration to your nerves in her future observations.’ He looked at Franny. ‘Is that not so, Miss—er—Bowen?’

      ‘Oh, I’ll be very careful.’ Franny smiled at them both. ‘I like working for Lady Trumper and I will do my best to keep a still tongue in my head.’

      This forthright speech left Lady Trumper with nothing to say and the professor said easily, ‘Well, in that case, perhaps Miss Bowen might be allowed to go on with whatever she was doing while we have a little chat.’

      Franny knew a hint when it was uttered. She picked up the invitation cards and went to her little cubbyhole of a room and closed the door. She had been dismissed—kindly, but dismissed, just as Elsie would have been dismissed.

      And why should you mind? she asked herself. Remember that you are in a lowly position in this household. Not that it will be for always. Once Finn was a doctor with a splendid practice somewhere she would keep house for him and be respected as his sister. When he was married she would retire to a small bungalow and later live on her old-age pension.

      That she had got a bit muddled in her plans for the future didn’t worry her. She spent a good deal of time making plans, most of them utter rubbish and highly improbable.

      She wrote another half-dozen cards and paused, struck by the thought that it would be nice to marry someone like the professor. He had everything: good looks, a successful profession—at least, she supposed that he had—and a splendid motor car. Was he married? she wondered. And what exactly did he do? Professor of what? And why was he here in England when he had a perfectly good country of his own?

      Inquisitive by nature, Franny decided to find out. Franny being Franny, if she had the opportunity to ask him she would, but that wasn’t likely. However a few casual questions in the kitchen over dinner tomorrow might prove fruitful…

      She had finished the cards when she heard Lady Trumper’s raised voice, so she opened the door and said, ‘Yes, Lady Trumper?’

      ‘You have finished the cards? Stamp the envelopes and take them to the letter box and then come back here. I want you to take some documents to my solicitor. I do not trust the post. Hand them to the senior partner,

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