She pushed the door
and went through into the cold passage that smelt of cheese and
bacon and damp earth. There seemed to be no one about, and then
suddenly the pantry door opened and Jane came out. She stopped when
she saw Maggie.
"Where's Martha?" asked Maggie in a low voice.
The whisper seemed to tell Jane at once that this was to be a
confidential matter. She jerked with a dirty thumb in the direction
of the kitchen.
"In there. Cooking the dinner," she whispered back. She was untidy,
there were streaks of black on her face, but her eyes looked up at
Maggie with a friendly, roguish glance, as though they had already
something in common. Maggie saw that she had no time to lose. She
came close to her.
"Jane," she said, "I'm in trouble. It's only you who can help me.
Here's a letter that I want posted--just in the ordinary way. Can
you do that for me?"
Jane, suddenly smiling, nodded her head.
"And there's something else," Maggie went on. "To-morrow morning,
before you come here, I want you to go to the Strand post-office--
you know the one opposite the station--and ask for a letter
addressed to me.
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