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Updated: June 8, 2025
"Oh, that was nice of you, Miss Mapp," said Isabel. A wild and awful surmise seized Miss Mapp. "And your dear mother?" she said. "Where is Mrs. Poppit?" "Mamma had to go to town this morning. She won't be back till close on dinner-time." Miss Mapp's smile closed up like a furled umbrella. The trap had snapped behind her: it was impossible now to scriggle away.
In order to ascertain this for certain, she took up through the trap door a pair of binocular glasses, through which it was also easy to identify anybody who might be in the open yard outside the station. Even as she looked, Mrs. Poppit and Isabel crossed the yard into the waiting-room and ticket-office.
This time she felt certain that Susan had come with her interesting news, and waited till Withers, having answered the door, came to inquire, no doubt, whether she would see Mrs. Poppit. But, alas, a minute later the Royce lumbered on, carrying the additional weight of the Christmas number of Punch, which Miss Mapp had borrowed last night and had not, of course, had time to glance at yet.
By this time Isabel Poppit had advanced as far as the fish shop three doors below the turning down which Mrs. Plaistow had vanished. Her prancing progress paused there for a moment, and she waited with one knee highly elevated, like a statue of a curveting horse, before she finally decided to pass on.
Poppit," she said, "if you are walking by my little house, would you give me two minutes' talk? And so stupid of me to forget just now will you come in after dinner on Wednesday for a little rubber? The days are closing in now; one wants to make the most of the daylight, and I think it is time to begin our pleasant little winter evenings." This was a bribe, and Mrs.
Poppit, shameless in her snobbery, would no doubt be at the station with her Order on at both these hours, if the arrival did not take place by the first train, and Isabel would be prancing by or behind her, and, in fact, dreadful though it was to contemplate, all Tilling, she reluctantly believed, would be hanging about.... Then an idea struck her, so glorious, that she put the uprooted love-in-a-mist in the weed-basket, instead of planting it again, and went quickly indoors, up to the attics, and from there popped really popped, so tight was the fit through a trap-door on to the roof.
She buried her teeth in a muffin. "Believe there's something in it," she summed up. She observed her guest had neither tea nor muffin. "Help yourself," she said. "Want to worry this out." "Elizabeth absolutely denies it," said Mrs. Poppit. "Her eyes were full of " "Oh, anything," said Diva. "Rubbed them. Or pepper if it was at lunch. That's no evidence." "But her solemn assertion " began Mrs.
Poppit was apt to allude more frequently than would have been natural if she had always been accustomed to one, and they went to Switzerland for a month every winter and to Scotland "for the shooting-season," as Mrs. Poppit terribly remarked, every summer.
But as she took up her light aluminium opera-glasses to make sure whether it was Isabel Poppit or not who was now stepping with that high, prancing tread into the stationer's in the High Street, she exclaimed to herself, for the three hundred and sixty-fifth time after breakfast: "It's very baffling"; for it was precisely a year to-day since she had first seen those mysterious midnight squares of illuminated blind.
Col. G. What story have you to tell the police then? They'll want to know. Th. Story saysto? The dule's i' th' mon! Didn't aw seigh th' mon 'at stealed her away goo into this heawse not mich over hauve an hour ago? Aw seigh him wi' mo own eighes. Col. G. Why didn't you speak to him? Th. He poppit in at th' same dur, and there aw've been a-watching ever since. Aw've not took my eighes off ov it.
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