“My brother is not at home,” Maria says. “And I couldn’t tell you when he’ll be back.”
Maria seems ready—and even eager—to send the woman away, butwhen Sally looks down at the woman’s muff—a magnificent mink—she notices she is clutching a copy of Elliott’s flyer in one hand.
“Do you have information about the runaway?” Sally asks.
“I do,” says the woman. “My name is Miss Augustine Saunders.”
Sally introduces herself, and Maria, somewhat begrudgingly, follows suit.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” says Miss Saunders, “although I am sorry it is under these circumstances.”
Maria nods.
Sally cannot think of a single set of circumstances in which a girl of Maria’s breeding would be pleased to make Miss Saunders’s acquaintance, but she keeps that to herself.
“What do you know?” asks Maria.
“I sat next to her in the gallery.”
Maria gives Sally a quick glance. “Cecily?” she confirms.
Miss Saunders nods.
“How do you know it was her?” Maria asks.
“She introduced herself.”
It takes Maria a moment to absorb this information, so it’s Sally who says, “And do you believe she made it out?”
“I do,” says Miss Saunders. “I was right behind her when we exited the gallery. Followed her all the way down the stairs and out onto the green.”
“Did you?” says Sally, who can’t quite believe what she’s hearing. She’s never put much stock in Elliott’s theory that Cecily made it out of the theater alive, but perhaps she discounted it too quickly.
“Is it possible,” says Maria, “that she went back inside?”
“I suppose anything’s possible. But what would she have wanted to go back inside for?”
“Iwas inside,” says Maria with such wild confidence that Sally feels embarrassed for her.
Augustine Saunders must, too, because she lets out a little snort, then gives Maria a pitying stare. “Were you the reason she was sitting in the gallery, sobbing her eyes out before the start of the show?”
Maria is at a loss for words.
“Because if you were, I doubt very much that she ran into a fiery inferno to save your behind.”
Sally watches as it slowly dawns on Maria—just as it did on Elliott—that Cecily would never have willingly risked her own life to save her.
“Of course, you’re right,” Maria whispers. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Sally gives her hand a squeeze. It’s a hard truth to acknowledge, but Maria is trying.
“Well, when I saw this,” Miss Saunders says, folding the flyer in squares, “I thought I should offer up what little I know.”
“Yes,” says Maria slowly. “That was very good of you, and I will pass the information along to my brother as soon as he returns.”
The woman gives Maria her card, and tells her to be in touch if she needs her to provide an official statement of any kind.
“I doubt that will be necessary,” says Maria, and then she and Sally watch as Augustine Saunders climbs back into the chaise and disappears down the drive.
