Adders on the Heath (4 page)

* * *

He was too late for tea at the hotel, but Barney, who met him as he entered, said, with a conspiratorial nod,

Try the kitchen, sir. Mabel's "on" this afternoon.'

Richardson crossed the uneven, large, ancient tiles of the kitchen, beyond which lay the modern annexe in which the cooking and serving were done, and turned off to the right, past the foot of a servants' staircase, also part of the original house, which had been built, very narrow and steep, in the thickness of the wall. It led up to the second floor and the porter's bedroom.

In the room past the bottom of this staircase, Mabel was busy washing up. She desisted as Richardson came in and hooked a chair up to a large, scrubbed, wooden table. As was her invariable habit, she grinned widely but did not speak. She made fresh tea, put out bread and butter, jam and a sponge sandwich, and, jerking her head, indicated that he might set to.

'We've had Carrie's boy friend, the policeman, here this afternoon. Tell us about the murder,' she said, when Tom had drunk his third cup of tea. Richardson, in a low tone, gave her a carefully edited account of what had happened. At the end, she stood with her arms akimbo, studied his fresh complexion and boyish, candid face and shook her head.

'He's wrong. The police are all wrong. It can't be you. Ain't got the nerve,' she said. 'No more nor me. Takes nerve, it do, to bring off a nice clean murder. No, Mr Richardson, it wouldn't be your sort of lark, no more nor it wouldn't be mine, whatever Carrie's boy friend may say.'

Richardson felt that the Delphic Oracle had spoken. He did not even resent the slur cast upon his courage. What Mabel believed today he hoped and trusted that the police would believe tomorrow. He thanked her for the tea, went into the small drawing-room which served to house the visitors' library and, most days, an irascible ex-Naval officer, and, surveying the volumes on the bookshelves, took down E. F. Benson's masterpiece,
The Luck of the Vails
, trusting that the flute-playing villainies of Mr Francis Vail would blot out, for a space, his own anxieties and problems.

The anodyne worked. Somewhere a clock struck the half-hour. Richardson took the book to his room, and, putting it on the bedside table, went off for a bath before dinner.

After dinner, the mixed feeling of being, at the same time, in a trap and at a loose end, assailed him again, but a joyful surprise was in store. He was loitering in the front hall, trying to decide between the respective attractions of
The Luck of the Vails
and the television lounge, when the front door opened and in came the porter with a couple of suitcases. He was followed by a slender, tall young man with thick brown hair and wide-apart grey eyes. The young man was carrying a violin case in one hand and a flute, cased in leather, in the other.

'Oh, Lord!' exclaimed Richardson, joyfully. 'Uncle Francis Vail in person! Well, well, well!'

The newcomer apparently understood the reference.

'Oh, Geoffrey,' he said reproachfully, naming one of the heroes in the book, 'I did so hope that people would mistake it for a telescope. Then it would seem as though I'd been in the Navy. It's a terribly good thing to have been in, and I should be much respected if people thought I'd ever belonged to it. Are you
sure
it doesn't look like a telescope? It's really meant to look like one, you know.' He put the flute in its case to his eye.

'Quite sure, Scab, you lunatic. Come and sign the book. Which is his room, Barney? I've forgotten.'

'Number twenty-two, sir. I'll get the key.'

'And is our escutcheon still unsullied, or have you been up to something?' asked Denis, in his disconcerting way.

'I've been up to something,' said Richardson. 'Are you hungry, or shall I a tale unfold?'

'I dined in Winchester with a bloke I know. Is there a bar here?'

'There is. Let me lead you to it.'

'Right. I'll dump my kit and then I'll join you.'

'I'll put the car away while you're dumping. Somehow I don't think we're going to need it tomorrow.'

They met in the bar a quarter of an hour later.

'Tell me why we shan't need the car,' said Denis, over a pint of bitter. 'I thought you were going to walk your legs off while you were alone, and that we were to ride in the stately limousine as soon as I turned up. Incidentally, I'm sorry for the delay, but I got let in for playing polo.'

'You mean you preferred playing polo to getting down here when you said you would? Then it serves you right that you've missed all the fun of being my fellow gaolbird.'

'You don't say!'

'I do say. I've been scared out of my wits until now, but I don't seem to care quite so much now
you've
turned up.'

'Absolutely the right spirit. Tell me all. I can see you've lost weight since last we met.'

Richardson told him all. It was a straightforward narrative but, as Denis remarked at the end of it, fraught with unusual interest.

'There's only one thing to do,' he said.

'Confess, and get myself hanged?'

'That would be going too far and is, in any case, unnecessary. No, what you need, at this crisis in a young man's affairs, is the advice and assistance of my great-aunt.'

'Not Lady Selina?'

'Perish the thought! I refer to the one and only Dame Beatrice. Your corpses will be meat and drink to her.'

'Dame Beatrice? But?-Oh, she wouldn't take me on, would she? I mean, I've never even met her!'

'The loss is hers and can soon be remedied.'

'You'll really ask her?'

'Yes, of course, and I know she'll come. You must tell her everything, you know, just as you've told it to me. No hedging or ditching. She can't be expected to work with blinkers on. Your two rows with Colnbrook must be exposed with all their low-life implications and you'll have to confess that you saw these two birds on the heath, so that you knew they were in the neighbourhood. And if I were you,' continued Denis earnestly, 'I'd come clean to the Superintendent, too. He's bound to dig it all out sooner or later-the police do, you know-and you'll be in a far stronger position if the information comes from you in the first place.'

'Well, I don't know about that,' said Richardson, very doubtfully. 'I'm certain that he suspects me, whereas Dame Beatrice, I take it, will not.'

'She'll start from scratch, keeping an open mind. Still, you have an ingenuous, unbearded sort of face and are obviously frightened to death, so perhaps she'll give you the benefit of the doubt.'

'You
are
a Job's comforter!' said Richardson; but he looked quite happy again.

'Meanwhile,' Denis added, 'I will bend my own not inconspicuous intellect to your problem and let you know my conclusions in the morning. Sleep well!'

CHAPTER FOUR

IN SEARCH OF A BODY

'Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments.'

Shakespeare

'What we ought to do,' said Denis, on the following morning, 'and I've slept on this, I might tell you, because it actually occurred to me last night when I got to bed...'

'Is to tell the Superintendent there's Colnbrook's body hidden away somewhere. He won't believe us, you know. Besides-'

'You go too fast. Let me finish. It occurred to me last night, as I tossed restlessly on my pillow, that what we must do is to
find
that second body-or, rather, that
first
body-
before
they hold the inquest on the body found in your tent by the police.'

'But how on earth can we do that?'

'We will quarter the ground. Isn't there a riding stables at hand? We shall hire a couple of docile, trustworthy hacks and look for clues.'

'What about Dame Beatrice?'

'Fun first, business later. Must you have still
another
piece of toast?'

'Yes, really I must. But, about the horses...'

'Unreliable, you think?'

'I don't think that. I
do
think we'd be much better off on foot-that is, if we really
must
look for Colnbrook.'

'Why? I loathe a lot of walking.'

'Very well. You ride, I'll walk, and we'll compare notes at lunch.'

'Not a bad idea. Where do I find these riding stables?'

'The other side of the water-splash. Don't go through the splash or over the footbridge. Keep straight on and then turn left. There's a footpath across a bit of common.'

'It sounds complicated. I'll walk with you.'

'All right. It's a far better idea, really it is.'

So the two young men set out for the site of Richardson's camp. Denis had a camera and photographed a Forest pony and her half-grown chestnut foal. Three-quarters of the way along the beautiful road which led to the common, he insisted upon stopping at the 'pound' to obtain a picture of a farmer, his wife and his cowman urging an extremely lively bull calf to climb up a ramp into a lorry. Richardson was impatient to get on, and was almost dancing by the time his friend was satisfied.

'Nobody would think I'm threatened with the hangman,' he complained, when at last they were on their way again. 'Now don't waste any more time, and do forget that blasted box camera of yours for a bit. I didn't even bring mine.'

They soon reached the causeway. It led away from the gravelled road and ran straight and true (and was, in places, extremely muddy) between the sparsely-planted young pines and the heather, by the side of the drainage ditches, until it entered the narrow wood. Here Denis stood still and gazed about him.

'Rather good, isn't it?' said Richardson.

'How did you find the way here in the first place?' Denis demanded. 'You didn't know the neighbourhood, did you?'

'Oh, I thought I'd told you that I came down one Saturday, ages ago, and nosed around and prospected and so forth. Mind you, I didn't tell the Superintendent that. It wouldn't do to let him think I knew the countryside before I got let in for this business.'

'I see. Do we cross this little bridge?'

'We do, and follow the path to the right.'

They did this, and watched the sunshine and shadow on the stream before going on again. After a bit they came upon a gate which led into an enclosure. Denis indicated the gate.

'Can we go this way?'

'I suppose so, although I never have. It's only on a latch, so it's all right, so long as we shut it after us. Looks as though the foresters have been busy.'

The inviting path on the other side of the gate was broad and clearly marked, and bore the imprint, here and there, where the ground was soft, of car tyres and caterpillar wheels. Denis produced a magnifying glass and studied the imprints with exaggerated thoroughness.

'No hoof-prints,' he observed. They walked on again, past the grey, smooth trunks of a couple of felled beeches on the right-hand side of the path, and a magnificent Scots pine, prone across the bracken, on the left. The path mounted gradually. Suddenly Denis, who was in the lead, stopped short. 'I'm going back,' he said. A gaggle of geese, eight in all, had formed a line across the path, which led straight into a farmyard. 'Geese horrify me. I'd rather face a pride of lions.'

'There's a dog, too,' said Richardson, in practical tones. 'Besides, about geese I really do agree. I told you I'd never been this way, and now you see that my instinct was sound.'

They retraced their steps and again followed the path beside the water. It narrowed and grew lumpy and then muddy. Then it turned almost at right-angles on to a miry track with led across the gravelled road and on to the open heath. Richardson pointed out the big house from which he had tried to telephone.

'You don't think there's anything suspicious in the circumstance that the owner of the house happened to be away on the very day you discovered a dead man in your tent?' Denis suggested.

'Oh, I hardly imagine so. Just a coincidence, I would say. And I certainly don't attach any importance to the fact that the maid wouldn't let me use the telephone. For all she knew, it might have been an impudent attempt on my part to get into the house with burglarious intentions. Besides, women-servants always think somebody is determined to murder them in their beds, although why in their beds I can't think. One would suppose the last thing to do on their part would be to stay in bed if a homicidal maniac was loose about the place. Personally, I should want to be up and about, preferably with my shoes on.'

'Yes, it's odd how helpless one feels with bare feet if there's any rough stuff going-Judo excepted, of course. Where do we go from here?'

'We follow the main track as far as those gorse bushes and then branch off on to a kind of secondary track which pretty well follows the flow of the river.'

Pursuing this course, they soon came upon the former site of Richardson's camp. It was marked by two young oak trees, about fifteen yards apart, which formed a landmark against the surrounding gorse and some low-growing thorn trees. More gorse and bracken screened the little clearing from the main track, but Richardson, who had chosen the spot because, besides being easily identifiable, it was secluded, now looked upon it with a different eye. He indicated the gorse and said,

'Somebody could have lain up hidden and watched my movements. I'd never have known he was there.'

Denis did not answer. He searched all the tiny paths which ran among the gorse. Richardson strolled over in the opposite direction, that in which the river, shallow at this point, ran with a quietly insistent murmur over the stones. Denis soon joined him. When they were together again, Richardson remarked,

'You know, it occurs to me that it would have been frightfully easy to have brought the body across the river from the other side. Come and see.'

He led the way to where a loop in the stream had laid bare two spits of gravel. They were not opposite one another, but lay in a long slant with perhaps twelve yards of very shallow water between them. Denis looked long and thoughtfully at this possible ford.

'I don't know about that,' he said. 'Could be, I suppose. Let's see how the road runs.'

They made their way along the secondary track until it joined the main one. Then, following this until it met the gravelled road, they turned to the left and crossed the bridge.

'This will be it,' said Richardson. They stepped on to rough grass and found themselves among trees. There was no marked path, but the trees, mostly pines, were not very close together and it was easy enough to follow the course of the stream. It was at this point that the hotel collie manifested himself and joined them.

'Damn that dog!' said Richardson. He stooped and fondled the collie. It bounded along, barking joyously.

'Yes, you're right,' said Denis. 'How big and heavy was this chap you saw? Colnbrook, I mean.'

'Oh, I really don't know! You don't go trying to judge height and weight when you find a dead man in your tent! All I remember about Colnbrook is that he was about my height and seemed fairly chunky. Why?'

'Oh, well, I was only wondering-if he
was
murdered, I mean-whether it was the work of only one person. Still, I suppose the police will establish that. Of course, I'm hoping it was accidental, or that he was taken ill. Where do we go now?'

'Well, it's all a bit circumscribed, really, for all that it looks a vast expanse. You'd think that wood over on the far side would lead somewhere, but, actually, it peters out on this side of the stream. There's almost a right-angle bend.'

'Let's have a look, anyway,' said Denis.

'You know,' said Richardson, as they left the stream and took a broad track marked heavily by caterpillar wheels, car tyres and hoof-prints which led over the heath to the wood, 'I do so wish I'd told the police I'd met Colnbrook before. It'll be absolutely ruinous for me if it comes out now-that is, if the death
wasn't
accidental.'

'Oh, the police aren't going to worry too much about that,' said Denis easily. 'They understand panic. Besides, as we learned in our youth, the best way to get out of difficulties is to tell a lie, a good lie, and stick to it. You only had an electric torch, remember, and you certainly weren't expecting to find a dead man in your tent. How well
did
you know this blighter, anyway? I know you met him again after you socked him on that cross-country run. You remember telling me about that?'

'I've never seen or heard of him since, until this wretched business, except for the railway station episode.'

'Then, if you'll pardon my bluntness of speech, what the hell are you worrying about? Those incidental manifestations of the sporting spirit are two a penny. If
he
had murdered
you
, it might have been a bit different, although, I think, not very much. Your socking him
could
have supplied him with the shadow of a motive, I suppose. But, in the case under review, having put it across him for criticising your birth and breeding, you'd satisfied your ego and had no more use for vengeance, and he responded by landing you with that girl. My advice is to see the facts clearly and see them whole, and then, for God's sake, to forget all about them.'

There was a silence as they tramped onwards towards the woods. It lasted a full two minutes. Then Richardson said, 'Thanks. That clears the air.' He sounded doubtful, however.

'Look here, why have you got it so firmly into your bean that he
was
murdered?' demanded Denis. 'You didn't notice any injury?'

'I didn't stop to notice anything much. I do just remember a slight smell of almonds when I tried to revive him, you know.'

'Well, you did what you could when you telephoned from the hotel. Incidentally, I don't for a moment believe that we're going to find his body, however much we trek around. The chap or chaps-and I distinctly favour the plural-who exchanged the corpses will have taken him far enough away from here.'

'I'm not so sure,' said Richardson, 'that I want to find his body, after all. Won't the police think it damned fishy if we do?'

Denis considered this point.

'I see what you mean,' he said. 'Perhaps I was feeling a bit over-enthusiastic when we started out. I quite see that it's better, from your point of view, to have your tent connected with a dead bloke whom you
didn't
know, than with somebody whom you did. Oh, yes, I think you may have got something there. Nevertheless, I'm enjoying the walk, so, after all, perhaps we needn't start beating the undergrowth and peering into bushes and all that. We'll just toddle on and enjoy the scenery.'

They entered the woods and soon found themselves again on the banks of the stream. It was deep and dark-brown here, and it flowed in steady silence under the trees. There was no path. On the opposite side of the water a woodman and his mate were felling a tree. The two young men stayed for a few minutes to watch, and greetings were exchanged across the stream.

'Well,' said Denis, as they turned left and came out of the woods, 'whichever way either of those dead men came or was taken, it couldn't have been
this
way. Nobody, either on foot or in a car, could have forded the river hereabouts. Let's do a long cast round and walk our legs off.'

This seemed a reasonable suggestion, but they were not allowed to follow it up. The 'long cast round' foreshadowed by Denis brought them to the edge of another and a greater wood. This wood, moreover, was an enclosure and admittance to it was gained by several widely-spaced gates, to one of which a rudimentary track brought the walkers. At this gate Denis paused. The enclosure was bounded by a strong fence, but the gate was on a latch.

'Shall we?' he asked, unfastening the gate without waiting for an answer. The two of them entered the unresisting fastness and Denis closed the gate behind them. The young men found themselves on a kind of raised banking and among trees, undergrowth and-so slowly does water dry away in the thickly-wooded parts of the Forest-pools of considerable size.