From behind her Judy heard a low rippling laugh—quite a pretty laugh.
“Well, he never knew who pushed him either. Let me see—we’re coming to the end of this common, and I must watch the road and not talk so much. There’s rather a steep lane down, and then the road forks and you go to the right. Pretty, wooded country, but the primroses will hardly be out yet, I should think. After that—let me see—”
Judy heard the rustle of paper behind her. A map was being unfolded and hung over the back of her seat. A flash reflected from the windscreen disclosed the presence of a torch. A little flicker of hope sprang up. If Lona Day had to manage a map and a torch, would she be able to keep the pistol aimed?... The hope flickered out. She felt the pistol again, pressing steadily against her spine. The
