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'Police!' snorted Jen. 'Billy wouldn't have nothing to do with the police.
Better sense than that. Billy's got. But you speak to him.'
Sarah nodded, and left the tavern. As she'd dreaded, Kipling and his two pals
were eagerly waiting for her.
'Learn anything?' Beresford asked.
'More than you have in years of schooling,' Sarah told him. 'If I find out what
happened to Anders, I'll let you know. Now buzz off.'
'Never!' said Kipling defiantly. 'We're here to offer you our protection and
assistance.'
'And crude comments too,' Sarah retorted. 'I don't need any of them. Clear off.'
Kipling's face fell. 'Oh, come on,' he begged. 'He's our responsibility, you
know. Well, McBee's at least. And we could be useful, couldn't we?' He gave her
a pathetic look of hope.
Against her better judgement, Sarah took pity on them. 'Oh, all right,' she
agreed crossly. 'But one untoward comment from any of you, and I'm sending you
back to school with a flea in your ears. And don't think I wouldn't.'
'Honestly,' Dunsterville assured her, 'we believe every last word you say. Miss
Smith.'
'Now you're starting to learn,' Sarah approved.
'I can quite understand your concern, Alice,' Bridewell told her, holding her
hand comfortingly. 'I will confess, what you overheard does sound rather bad for
Edmund.'
'Bad?' Alice stared at her fiance. 'He is planning to rob this house, Roger!
That manservant of his is a common thief!'
'Alice,' Roger said, his face twisted by indecision, 'please trust me. I know it
looks bad, but please believe me. I know that Edmund is planning nothing that
would hurt you in any way. Despite what you heard - '
'Then tell me what he is planning, if you know,' begged Alice.
'I can't,' Roger replied, not looking at her. 'But if you love me, Alice, trust
me on this matter.'
Alice was torn: she did love him, but he was asking a great deal of her. His
explanations - if they were in fact explanations and not evasions - were not
making her feel any better. 'Roger, I want to trust you. But I can't trust him
without some reason.'
Roger nodded miserably. 'I shall have a word with Edmund,' he promised. 'Perhaps
that will help.'
'Perhaps,' agreed Alice, unconvinced. Roger kissed her hand rather perfunctorily
and then fled down the corridor. She stared after him, wondering how well she
really knew her fiance. He was certainly keeping some secret about Edmund from
her, but what? What kind of a hold did the suave Colonel Ross have over Roger?
Friendship? Money? Blackmail? She didn't know, and if Roger wouldn't confide in
her then perhaps she had better do a little prying of her own. She was not about
to trust Ross without some convincing proof of the innocence of his intentions.
And Roger was about to warn the man other suspicions.
Making up her mind, she headed for Ross's rooms. She felt dreadful about
searching them, but what else could she do? Perhaps something would be revealed
to resolve her quandary.
The graveyard was small, and set on one of the hills overlooking Bodham Bay. An
ancient, weather-beaten stone church guarded the high spot on the rise. The
tower was definitely Saxon in styling and in need of a little work, and the
windows in the grey stonework were small. The graves were gathered about the
church, as if seeking the protection of those old stones.
Most were marked with simple headstones, many of which had been worn into
virtual unreadability. There had been some efforts to tend the graves, but
several were overgrown with patchy clumps of unkempt grass. Against the grey
sky, the whole site looked dreadfully depressing to Doyle.
Faversham led the way across the graveyard as the harsh wind tugged at their
coats. The Doctor, hands thrust in his pockets, his face inscrutable, followed.
Behind Doyle, limping slighdy, came Sir Alexander and Doctor Martinson. The
policeman halted beside a dark gash in the ground. The gravestone had been
knocked over, and a hole dug straight through the fresh earth. The Doctor peered
in the gap, and Doyle stared down over his shoulder.
The coffin was still down there, a simple wooden affair of local timber. The top
had been staved in by a spade, and the body had been dragged out through the
gap. A piece of the shroud had caught on a long splinter of wood in the coffin
lid, and flapped like a trapped butterfly vainly striving to escape.
The Doctor looked up, his face grim. 'Stay back,' he called over his shoulder to
Martinson and Sir Alexander. He glanced at Faversham and Doyle. 'Both of you
stay where you are,' he said. Without explanation he went down on one knee and
began to stare at the ground around the grave.
Doyle stared at him in fascination. 'What are you doing. Doctor?' he asked.
'Looking for clues,' he snapped. 'Be quiet.' He sprang to his feet and wandered
across the grounds, staring intently at the ground. Making his way back to the
small stone wall surrounding the church, he examined the top stones, and then
walked slowly back to the grave. 'There were two men,' he announced. 'One was
tall and heavy-set, the other shorter and thin. They came from the village and
went back that way with the corpse.'
Doyle was astonished. 'How on earth could you possibly know that?'
The Doctor cracked one of his wide, toothy smiles. 'Elementary, my dear Doyle.'
He pointed to the ground. 'Aside from a set of woman's shoe-prints that I assume
to be the cleaner who discovered the robbery, there are two recent sets of
shoe-prints. One is a large size, and sinks deeply into the disturbed fresh
earth. Hence a large man, and rather heavy. The other set is small, and not as
deep: a smaller, lighter man. The same prints show on the pathway from the
village at the gate, and they return that way also. On the return trip, the
large man's prints sink even deeper, so he was carrying the " woman's corpse with
him.'
'That's remarkable!' exclaimed Sir Alexander. 'And can you tell us where the men
went in the village?'
The Doctor shook his head. 'The ground is too rocky, and by the time we get down
to the village, the cobble-stoned streets will not carry prints. This is all I
can tell you for the moment, gentlemen. But the culprits must still be somewhere
in the vicinity.'
'That's quite astounding,' Doyle enthused.
'Scientific method,' the Doctor answered. 'Now, we have several separate
mysteries that I feel certain must be intertwined. You know what we need now?'
'What?' asked Doyle.
'Lunch. I'm starving. Come on!' The Doctor rubbed his hands together and started
back towards the village.
'You've left me in the deuce of an uncomfortable position, old man,' Roger
complained. 'I know I promised to help all I could, but with Alice getting
suspicious - '
Ross nodded thoughtfully. 'I know, Roger, and I'm sorry. I suppose the best
thing to do would be for me either to leave or come clean. But I'm so close now.
I know it! I'm fairly certain that what I'm after isn't here at all.'
'Which I told you from the start,' Roger pointed out. 'I know you did,' agreed
Ross. 'But you know I couldn't simply take your word for it. Now I have
Abercrombie checking out other possibilities. The problem is that matters have
become rather more complex than I had anticipated. This Doctor fellow, for
example. He's a factor I hadn't foreseen, and I'm not at all certain whose side
he's on - or what his reasons are for getting involved with this in the first
place. Then there's that whaling ship, the Hope. It can't be a coincidence that
it was diverted here at this time. But how does it figure in? Will it interfere
with my plans?' Ross sighed. 'I had anticipated a fairly straightforward time
here, but it's definitely far too complex now. Still, that's my problem, and I
shall have to make the best of it.'
'Then what do you aim to do?' asked Roger. His friend patted his arm in a kindly
fashion. 'What I don't aim to do is to come between you and your fiancee, old
man. I promise you, I'll square things with her somehow. I just have to work out
what would be best.'
Roger smiled with relief. 'Thanks. I'd certainly appreciate your getting me off
the hook with Alice.' [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]