Free Will O’ the Wisp by Patricia Wentworth Page A

to tell her she can’t stay there alone, and to take her to yet another cousin, Mrs. Frank Alderey.” A simple tale and one likely to leave Robert cold. With a shrug of the shoulders he put Folly and her affairs away, and let his mind swing back to the problem which had burdened him all day.
    The words of the advertisement stood out in a garish dazzle, senseless and bewildering. His thoughts beat against it like moths, only to fall back in confusion. If it was a practical joke, it was both cruel and pointless; and who was there who knew enough of his private affairs to jest with them? If it was serious, from whom did it come? From Erica herself? He couldn’t believe it. If by some extraordinary chance she had survived, she would have written to him—she must have written to him.
    As he paced up and down, he saw, not Chieveley Street and the lamps shining in a frosty air, but the tilted deck of the Bomongo; his ears were filled again with the sounds of wreck and disaster; he saw, as he had not seen it for years, Erica’s ghastly face against his shoulder, and felt the rigid terror of her clasp.
    David went on walking, sometimes on one side of the road and sometimes on the other. He looked at his watch and made it half-past two. A perfectly fresh access of anger came to him and he quickened his pace a little. At his usual turning place he paused, looked up and down the street, and walked on to the corner. There was a lamppost there. He stood under it looking into the dark side street; and as he did so, he saw something move.
    He had hardly taken more than half a dozen steps away from the lamp when the moving something came out of the shadows at a stumbling run and caught at him with two little icy hands. The light showed him Folly March in a dark fur coat with her curls all crooked. She looked dreadfully white, and the hands that clutched his arm were shaking.
    He exclaimed sharply: “Folly, what on earth!”
    â€œTake me home,” said Folly in a ghost of a voice. “I want to go home at once.”
    â€œYou’re just there.”
    He was walking her along, his anger gone, and a fear that had no words in its place. What had happened?
    Eleanor’s flat was on the second floor. They reached the door without a spoken word on either side. Folly put the key, a cold key in a little cold hand, into David’s palm and the door swung open. He switched on the light and took her into the room where he and Eleanor had had tea.
    â€œFolly, what’s the matter? Can’t you tell me?”
    â€œIt’s so cold,” said Folly on a caught breath.
    David put his arm round her.
    â€œMy dear, what’s the matter?”
    â€œNothing,” said Folly.
    She leaned hard against his arm for a moment, then went and sat down in the corner of the sofa, holding her fur coat about her.
    â€œIt’s so cold! Do light the fire.”
    At his wits’ end, David knelt on the hearth and put a match to the neatly laid fire. As the flame went up and the sticks caught, Folly gave a little sigh and leaned towards it holding out her hands. With his back to her David fed the blaze with coal. He kept his eyes away from the little shaking hands. After a while she sighed again and said in a childish whisper:
    â€œStingo was rude.”
    David turned, still on his knees.
    â€œFolly, for the Lord’s sake tell me what’s happened! The swine was drunk. Has he hurt you?”
    Folly caught her breath.
    â€œN-no—he frightened me.”
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œHe was bringing me home in a taxi—he was rude—I got out.”
    â€œHe let you?”
    â€œI b-bit him.”
    â€œWhat!”
    â€œI b-bit him hard. He wouldn’t let go, and I bit him as hard as I could. I wish I could bite twice as hard. I wish you’d been there. You would—wouldn’t you?”
    David’s relief broke from him in sudden laughter.
    â€œI would