Adders on the Heath (5 page)

'Let's run,' said Richardson. Denis groaned, but complied with the obliquely-expressed command. He was not a talented runner. He lacked Richardson's style and easy grace, and, as they jumped a ditch which carried a sluggish stream athwart their path, he slipped on an over-irrigated patch of earth, fell over the dog and took a toss into some bushes. The dog barked with irrational enthusiasm and then began to howl. Denis picked himself up, but, even so, found that he could not keep his footing.

From somewhere near at hand a voice called,

'Hi, you there! Stop a minute, will yer?' A forester with an axe appeared in the clearing. There be a dead man hereabouts. Us had to shift un out of our way. You'd best go and fetch the police. Us haven't got time,' he said.

CHAPTER FIVE

SACRED STATUS OF GREAT-AUNT

'It would be unfaithful to nature, and, therefore, unworthy of my pen, were I to represent my young hero as totally guiltless of those common failings to which inexperienced youth is, for the most part, liable.'

'Nimrod'-
The Life of a Sportsman

Laura Gavin (née Menzies) was singing a hymn. Her son Hamish was joining in with more enthusiasm than tonal quality.

'See here hath been daw-aw-ning another new day,' bawled Hamish, out of tune but enjoyably. He broke off. 'But it rains, all the same,' he added, in his ordinary voice.

'So it does,' said mother's employer, Dame Beatrice Adela Lestrange Bradley, coming into the morning-room of the Stone House, Wandles Parva.

'Good morning, Mrs Croc, dear,' said Laura.

'Good morning, Mrs Dame, dear,' said her son, minding his manners.

The post,' said Laura, producing several letters. 'There's one in Denis's handwriting. You'd better read it for yourself at breakfast. I haven't opened it.'

'
At breakfast
,' said Hamish, with deep meaning. The party took seats at table and Hamish, proud of this accomplishment, poured himself out some coffee. 'And then I have to get along to the vicarage. Latin, mathematics and English literature.' He paused to consider this programme, sighed and then announced that he would have 'grapefruit, porridge, bacon - and - eggs - and - kidneys - and - sausage - and - mustard - and - toast - and - butter - and - marmalade - and - a - second -cup of coffee.' He drew breath.

'That's what Daddy has,' he explained, in a confidential aside to Dame Beatrice, his devoted and trusted ally. 'Actually, I don't really like kidneys, but I eat them, just the same. When I go to school after Easter I suppose I shall always be carnivorously hungry.'

Breakfast proceeded smoothly, but Laura cocked an interested eye, from time to time (and in the intervals between the courses of her son's outrageously enormous meal), on her employer. Automatically dealing with a mushroom omelette which Laura was convinced she did not know she was eating, Dame Beatrice was reading and rereading her grand-nephew's letter. She finished the omelette in an absent-minded way and took a piece of Melba toast.

'Denis is always anxious to help lame dogs over stiles,' she observed, 'although why lame dogs should wish to climb stiles I have never been able to determine. One would think they preferred to find a way through a hedge.'

'What's Denis got to say?' enquired Laura, ignoring her son's attempts to float a small piece of bread on the coffee he had poured on to an empty plate. 'Is he going to Spitzbergen?'

'No, he is in the New Forest, or so he says, and there is no reason to disbelieve him, for the postmark bears him out. He seems to have uncovered a murder or so.'

'Atta-baby!' said Laura warmly.

'What does it
mean
?' asked Hamish. His mother took no notice of him, the only effectual way she had ever discovered of blocking difficult questions. Dame Beatrice gave him an answer, however. She believed in being courteous to children.

'It is your mother's way of stating that she has taken the bit between her teeth, dear boy.'

'Is my mother a horse?'

'No, not even a mare-except in French, of course, when the word is spelt a little differently-but soon she will be
riding
a horse and for you we shall hire a New Forest pony when you come down at the week-end.'

'Atta-baby!' said Hamish, convinced that this must be a magic word, for he was an observant child and had noted that his mother's use of the expression always seemed to preface something pleasant and adventurous. 'But couldn't you take Peggy? I'm more used to Peggy, you see.'

'No, because we do not possess a horse-box. Besides, all boys should learn to manage more than one pony. Think of the broncho-busters. They can ride anything.'

Hamish digested this conception of his future and was so entranced by it that he remained silent and ruminative for nearly three minutes. Then he said a rapid grace and slid down from his chair.

'May I leave the table?'

'Certainly. And thank goodness!' said Laura, the first word aloud and the rest
sotto voce
.
'Now, then, Mrs Croc, come again. What murders, how committed and by whom?'

'Denis has joined a friend named Tom Richardson for a fortnight's holiday. He was late getting to the hotel and the friend slept in a small tent until Denis arrived. A dead man was found in the tent one night. Richardson recognised him, but did not tell the police so. However, by the time the police arrived at the tent, the body had been exchanged for another which Richardson did
not
recognise. Now he and Denis have discovered the first body. They want us to go along and look into the matter.'

'Well, we're on the border of the New Forest ourselves. What's stopping us?'

'Nothing, child. Are you content to leave Hamish with Henri and Célestine?'

'They'll spoil him, as usual, but it will be fine to escape from his clutches for a bit. I call him a demented, demoniac child.'

'That is much the best kind of child to have,' said Dame Beatrice serenely. 'Ring the bell and we will break the news to the foster-parents.'

An hour later she and Laura, driven by Dame Beatrice's imperturbable chauffeur George, were on their way to the New Forest Hunt Hotel. The main Bournemouth road ran between glades and groves, between beeches and oaks, past woodland rides and blindingly dazzling contrasts of shade and sun.

Forest ponies cropped grass at the roadside or stood, heedless of fast-moving traffic, in the middle of the road itself. Once Laura caught sight of deer and once a stoat, like a shadow, slipped across in front of the car.

Just before they reached the small village, they took a turning to the right and found themselves in a blind little lane, all twists and difficult bends. Then they came out upon a common and George accelerated a little. The hotel stood out, a landmark, but not a stark or an ugly one, on the far side of an enormous expanse of green. They made towards it. The lane took a right-hand turn and they pulled up on a gravel frontage.

Denis had been apprised of their coming, for his great-aunt had caused Laura to telephone the hotel from Lyndhurst. He was on the steps of the hotel when they arrived. He greeted them affectionately.

'Come and meet Tom Richardson, about whom is all the hoo-ha,' he said. 'Sorry it's still too early for a drink. Tom's in the garden exercising the hotel dog.' He led the way through a handsome entrance hall, at the end of which a bright fire was burning, and along a passage to a side-door which opened on to a well-kept gravel path. Richardson and the handsome collie were at the far end of the garden, and both came running as soon as Richardson saw Denis and his companions, the tall young man covering the grass with the easy effortless strides of a trained athlete, the dog beside him bounding and joyously barking. Denis performed the introductions.

'Sorry it's too early for a drink,' said Richardson.

'Yes, I've already broken the sad news, but,' said Denis, looking at his watch, 'in twenty-two and a half minutes' time it will be just right and we will all pour into the bar and jangle the cow-bells. I love doing that. Much nicer and far more musical than banging on the counter with half a crown and shouting, "Service, miss!" I don't think they'd like that here-hence the cow-bells. Swiss and genuine, just like Tom Sawyer's tooth, except that that was American, not Swiss. Now, where are we going to sit while we let time pass?'

'The bar really is the best place,' said Richardson. 'It's used as a lounge, anyway. Besides, it's vast and comfortable and we can talk there without worrying about being overheard. It's too chilly to sit in the garden, and the small drawing-room is in possession of the old boy of ex-naval aspect who seems to think it's his private sanctum, and the television lounge is thick with people propped up behind morning papers and waiting, like us, for the bar to open, so that's no good for a private get-together.'

The bar it is,' said Denis. He led the way, and Laura, from an armchair in the window, was soon working out the story of an eighteenth-century fox-hunt as told by the patterns on the curtains. Dame Beatrice ignored the decorative nature of the furnishings and concentrated on Richardson.

'Now, dear child,' she said. Richardson, who had been warned by Denis to expect this nominative of address, smiled wanly, hitched the knees of his trousers a little higher and asked her where he ought to begin. She told him. Soon she was in possession of as much of the story as Richardson thought it necessary to tell her.

'So,' said Dame Beatrice, looking up from the notes she had been scribbling, 'you have informed the police of the body which the two of you found in the woods, but you did
not
tell them that it was this same body which you found in your tent and which was subsequently removed and another body substituted.'

'I didn't think they'd believe me. I did try to tell the Superintendent, near the beginning of things, that I didn't think the second body was the one I'd reported to him over the phone, but he didn't seem interested, so I thought I'd better let it go at that.'

'Hm!' said Dame Beatrice. 'But, as that first body has turned up again, he may well take an interest
now
, if you tell him that you recognise it as the one you attempted to mention previously, when he was not prepared to listen to you.'

'Poor old Tom is stressing that he thinks he will be a bit in the red if he now confesses he recognises this first-and-third corpse,' said Denis, 'because he knew him beforehand and they had a bit of a row-none of Tom's seeking-on a cross-country run, and, also, another small
fracas
.'

'Was there bloodshed?' asked Dame Beatrice. 'You did not mention these feuds just now.'

'No,' said Tom, 'no bloodshed.'

'Threats uttered in front of witnesses?'

'There weren't any witnesses the first time except a few cows.'

'And the testimony of cows, rendered, if at all, in a language not recognised in a court of law, would be valueless, you think? You may be right. Why, then, are we cast down?'

'Somebody's got it in for me,' said Tom, 'else why pick on my tent both times?'

'Your tent was conveniently to hand, I should imagine, and that was one reason for making free with it. The interesting thing to find out will be why it was not used a third time. That would have been delightful.'

Richardson looked at her incredulously and Denis laughed.

'You mustn't mind Aunt Adela,' he said. 'Her mind functions like that.' He turned to Laura, who had worked out the sequence of events as told by the curtains. 'What say you, dear Dog?'

'Where did this cross-country run take place?' asked Laura. 'Anywhere at all in this neighbourhood?'

'Well, no, not really. It was Winchester way. We started from that bridge by the old mill at King Alfred's end of the high street and we were sent off in twos, one from each team. It was very different from the ordinary cross-country free-for-all, because all you had to do was beat your opposite number. There were only a dozen members in each team and we were sent off at five-minute intervals.'

'So it took an hour before the last pair could be sent off,' commented Laura.

'And you and this Mr Colnbrook were the last to go, I take it,' said Dame Beatrice.

'We were; but how do you know?'

'It was merely a guess. I went by the fact that you say there were no witnesses of your quarrel except the cows. In cross-country running, so different from sub-four-minute miling, five-minute intervals are not long ones and, in open country, over which some of your way surely would have taken you, the pair, if any, behind you must surely have seen something of the
fracas
, for you and your opponent stopped short, no doubt, in order to settle your differences. I deduce, therefore, that nobody
was
behind you.'

'Yes, I see.'

'And how did this cross-country competition come about?'

'The fixture was made at their request. Their secretary wrote that they had a vacant date and would like to meet us.'

'Was the unusual nature of the match mentioned in the correspondence?'

'No. Until we met them we had concluded that it would be the ordinary cross-country run, with the usual points system of scoring.'

'And that is?'

'Roughly speaking, the first man home counts as one, the second two, and so on. The team with the smallest number of points is the winner.'

'And what did your team think of the new arrangement?'

'Oh, the blokes didn't mind. In cross-country running you go for the fun of it. At least, I always do. I think everybody thought it was quite an idea. Of course, if it ever became the usual thing, you'd need to seed your runners if both teams were to get the ultimate out of it.'

'The best against the best, the weakest against the weakest, I suppose?'

'That's it. But, as I say, we didn't really mind what the arrangements were. They were the hosts, you see, and I must say they did their stuff nobly afterwards.'

'You imply?'

'The drinks and the supper, and so on.'

'Is the other team based on Winchester?'

'Oh, no. Somewhere near Southampton. I went there-yes, I went there once, I remember, with other of our officials.' His voice tailed off, but Dame Beatrice appeared not to notice this. She went on: