Watson's Choice (17 page)

‘Such is fame!’ said Laura, grinning, when, as they pursued their way towards the road-house, Mrs Bradley gave an account of the interview. ‘Makes you think a bit, though. After all, anybody could have one of those cards printed, I suppose, and most people would be boobs enough to fall for it, whether it was true or not.’

‘You terrify me, child,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘Now, as soon as we get on to the heath, keep a watchful eye open.’

‘I thought we were going to have lunch at the
Queen of the Circus!
’

‘We are, but I am anxious to meet a Miss Galbraith, who resides at the house I’ve just left. According to the list which I read in the matron’s office, lunch is served at twelve. It is now half-past eleven, so I imagine that Miss Galbraith should soon be approaching the house. Elderly ladies dislike to miss their food.’

‘So do younger ones,’ retorted Laura. ‘I’m already dying for mine. I wonder what sort of a meal the
Queen of the Circus
can produce?’

‘My own experience there was pleasant, I seem to remember.’

‘I say,’ said Laura suddenly, ‘do you see what I see?’

‘How can I tell, child? What I see are several automobiles, a motor cycle, three bicycles, a young woman accompanied by two children and – ’

‘The
Hound of the Baskervilles!
’ cried Laura. ‘It must be! There couldn’t be two!’

‘I was about to add that I can also see an elderly woman and with her a large and apparently even-tempered dog.’

‘I say! This seems to add up! What do you want me to do?’

‘I want you to stroll on ahead of me, and go into the
Queen of the Circus
.’

‘Good-o! I say, the old girl’s pretty hearty if she takes the hound out for walks in weather as cold as this.’

‘She is not only hearty. She may be in considerable danger, if what I suspect is true,’ said Mrs Bradley.

‘I thought you had some idea that the dog we weren’t allowed to see might qualify.’

‘There is nothing to show that there was only
one Hound of the Baskervilles
, child.’

‘But the dog at the station was the very spit and image of the one which turned up at the Sherlock Holmes party that night, you know.’

‘And, which was strange, the one so like the other

As could not be distinguished but by names
.

It is not only the twins in the
Comedy of Errors
who could not be told apart. Two puppies of the same litter may be widely different in temperament, but in appearance – ’

‘So
that’s
what you think!’ exclaimed Laura. ‘Miss Galbraith’s dog was the original
Hound of the Baskervilles
at the Sherlock Holmes party, and the market garden dog was the one I saw at the railway station! Oh, I say! That explains a lot!’

‘It explains nothing at all,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘And now you would like your beer. Go along, and don’t hurry. I will just pass the time of day with Miss Galbraith, if this is she.’

Laura walked on ahead. When she came to the woman with the dog she stopped. The dog stopped, too. Laura fondled his head and patted him. When she straightened up the enormous animal stood on his hind legs, put his paws on her shoulders, and licked her cheek. Mrs Bradley came up as Laura, sturdy though she was, staggered under the impact.

‘Dr Livingstone, I presume?’ she said to the owner of the dog, as Laura, recovering her balance, removed the huge paws from her shoulders. The raddled lady looked puzzled.

‘I’m sure I haven’t the honour,’ she replied, ‘though I seem to have seen you before.’

‘I have just come from your lodgings,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘I passed you some time in November out on the heath. I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Galbraith. I believe that is not your stage name, though?’

‘Yolanda Fleur, dear. What exactly was it? If you’re the Income Tax, I don’t have any income while I’m resting.’

‘I have no connexion with the Income Tax authorities, my dear Miss Galbraith. It is in connexion with your profession that I have come to see you. I enquired at the – ’

‘At the Cats’ Home?’ Miss Galbraith supplied, with a gurgle of laughter. ‘Oh, did you, dear? And to what exactly –?’

‘We were wondering whether you would care to appear in a play. You would have to go north, I’m afraid, so perhaps it wouldn’t interest you.’ She motioned Laura to be off.

‘North? How far north?’ Miss Galbraith’s decision to accept the offer could be taken for granted, Mrs Bradley noted.

‘The north-east of Scotland. The theatre is in Aberdeen.’

‘Would there be a job for Dusty there?’

Mrs Bradley inspected the enormous animal with interest.

‘If he could please his previous employers he could please us. I do not doubt it. I have the highest reports of his work.’

‘I understand all right about the film people,’ said the old actress,
‘but
I still wonder what that little caper was in November. You wouldn’t know about that. Some young woman came along and asked me to hire Dusty out for a party. I said the dog wasn’t used to children and I wouldn’t have him pulled about, but she said it wasn’t children and that I could come with him if I liked and make sure everything was all right. Ever so nice she was, and offered three guineas. There was only one thing I didn’t like. She wanted to touch him up here and there with luminous paint. Still, I felt sure she wouldn’t hurt or frighten him. I suppose she wanted him for charades or something of that sort. Anyway, I agreed so long as she promised to fetch him and bring him back, and chain him up quietly as everybody at the Cats’ Home was certain to be in bed. I was a bit worried when it turned so foggy, but a gentleman turned up to fetch him and I don’t know who brought him back, but he was there all right in the morning.’

‘That is extremely interesting,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘Now, is it convenient for you to travel to Scotland to-morrow? It is? Splendid! The matron at the hospital will vouch for me. I will send a taxi for you, then. You will need a letter of introduction and the address of the repertory company in Aberdeen, and I had better, perhaps, provide for your expenses now.’

This unusual series of arrangements appeared not to surprise Miss Galbraith. She seemed to be accustomed to extraordinary transactions. She took the pound notes, counted them and merely observed:

‘I dare say you’d like a receipt.’

‘You can send it to me from Aberdeen. Here is my card,’ Mrs Bradley replied, extracting one of these impressive recommendations and handing it over. ‘And now I wonder whether you can describe the people who hired Dusty?’

But Miss Galbraith was vague. Her description of the woman could have fitted Linda Campbell, Brenda Dance or, at a pinch, Celia Godley. About the men she was a little clearer. The first man she had seen was middle-aged and spoke with a thick foreign accent – German, she thought, but she ‘wasn’t much up in languages’. The man who had hired the dog for the film people was English, was much younger than the first man, did not give the idea of being on the stage – ‘you can’t often mistake them, dear, if you’ve been in the profession as long as I have’ – but, Miss Galbraith was almost certain, had been wearing a wig.

The conversation continued until Laura reappeared and joined them, the dog showing the same affection for her as he had done when they had met before. With mutual expressions of friendliness, Miss Galbraith and Mrs Bradley parted, and, as they walked onwards for lunch, Mrs Bradley gave Laura details of what had proved to be a most interesting and, in some respects, a most enlightening conversation.

‘Poor old party,’ said Laura. ‘What happens when she gets to Scotland?’

‘She will find the company avid to receive her.
The Argonauts
are on tour with
Peter Pan
, and their producer is a personal friend of mine. He will use Miss Galbraith and keep her busy for a week or two whilst we obtain the facts we need. As soon as I realized how the murder had been committed, and by whom, I foresaw that the owner of the
Hound of the Baskervilles
might, at some time, need protection.’

‘Well, I’m dashed!’ said Laura. ‘What
don’t
you know?’

‘Exactly what went on in the Cities of the Plain, child. Even allowing for all the sources and idiosyncrasies of human behaviour which modern psychology has laid bare, it is difficult to conceive of a state of things so far removed from normal conduct that the cities had to be destroyed in so uncompromising a fashion. One thinks of post-1918 Hamburg; one thinks of the port of Suez; one thinks unutterable thoughts; and, after that, imagination boggles, as the master of the comic novel has said.’

Laura regarded her employer sideways and with distrust. They repaired to the dining-room of the
Queen of the Circus
for lunch. When it was over, Laura said:

‘I suppose my next assignment is to see Miss Galbraith off on the
Royal Scot
to-morrow.’

‘It is safer for her if we appear to have no connexion with her. I will send a taxi for her. I have given her the money for her fare and a little over. And now for a stroll on the heath,’ said Mrs Bradley.

‘All this propaganda had its effect.’

HELEN SIMPSON
–
The Spanish Marriage

WHEN THEY HAD
left the
Queen of the Circus
well behind them, and were out on the open heath and heading towards the gravel pits, Mrs Bradley said cheerfully:

‘Well, that disposes very nicely of Miss Galbraith and her innocent dog.’

‘Why do you call him, rather deliberately, her
innocent
dog?’ enquired Laura.

‘For the best of reasons, child.’

Laura recognized the note in Mrs Bradley’s voice which meant that no more information would be forthcoming at that moment, and they walked on in silence until Laura asked:

‘Are we going to walk over to the village?’

‘Such was my intention,’ Mrs Bradley replied. ‘I have questions to ask there.’

‘Questions? Of whom?’

‘Of the vicar. I wish to ask him what he thinks is the probable date of his font. Then I shall digress by referring to the not highly original
rebus
of one Boddy, which I shall pretend I saw in the church when I visited it, and from that, I hope, the conversation will take a turn towards bodies in general and that of Miss Campbell in particular. When I have spoken of these things I propose to talk about dogs.’

‘To the vicar?’

‘Why not? He is in as good a position as anyone else to tell us what kind of dog is kept by the people at the market-garden. He
should
know the dog. It happens to reside in his parish.’

‘I agree. What’s more, we’d better hurry. Time marches on and I can’t say I fancy these wide-open spaces after dark.’

The vicarage was a house two hundred years old, and the vicar
a
worried-looking man of fifty, who welcomed them dubiously. He was eloquent, however, on the subject of the font, and insisted upon showing them the parish registers, although these were of only moderate interest since every entry before 1791 had been destroyed either by vandalism or by fire. He also offered interesting, if occasionally redundant, footnotes.

Mrs Bradley made some pertinent remarks, Laura some appreciative noises, and they began to walk towards the very fine effigies of a knight and a lady.

‘The significance of the dog as a foot-rest escapes me,’ Mrs Bradley began, as they stood beside the recumbent figures. The vicar was about to refresh her memory when Laura, deducing that she had received her cue, said brightly:

‘Miss Galbraith’s dog would make a pretty big foot-stool – big enough for both those people, I should think.’ It was clumsily phrased, but she could decide upon nothing more graceful on the spur of the moment. It sufficed, however. Mrs Bradley followed it up before the vicar could get a word uttered.

‘Ah, yes,’ she said. She peered at the dog of stone. ‘Not quite the same breed as this one, I imagine. An enormous animal, vicar, and as tame as a puppy. You have seen it about, I dare say?’

‘Poor Miss Galbraith,’ said the vicar. ‘Such a lonely soul, I’m afraid, and so fond of that great creature. It would have broken her heart to have been parted from it. I used my good offices with our dear hostel matron, but I doubt whether they would have pre vailed had not that fortunate offer come along. Even then, Miss Galbraith needed some persuasion before she would part with the dog. I pointed out, however, that if the good matron was prepared to have the dog at nights, and one pound a day was being paid by the film people for its services, she should try to be content, but she missed the daily walk on the heath. She said she did not feel safe without its company. One can understand that, of course. But how long the matron can be required to have it at the house all day long is another matter.’

‘What about its twin?’ asked Laura bluntly, as they walked towards the south door.

‘Its twin? I’m afraid I have no idea. Miss Galbraith was given the dog by a publican in Pimlico, I believe. She lived there before she came out here. She rented a place in this village for some years, and brought the dog with her, but her little cottage had to be
condemned,
and there was nowhere else in the village for her to be. It was fortunate indeed that there was room for her in the hostel.’

‘Doesn’t help us,’ said Laura, as she and Mrs Bradley struck on to the path which led back across the heath to the
Queen of the Circus
. ‘What next? My burglarious entry into the fastness where the other dog is?’

‘Quite unnecessary. Miss Campbell was killed by a human being, not by a dog. The second dog is immaterial.’

‘Then why wouldn’t the woman let us see it? I’m going to get a squint at that dog, come what may. I have a hunch it is germane to the issue.’

‘I have a hunch that by the time we get back to the
Queen of the Circus
we shall be ready for tea and then can watch their television screen until cocktail-time, after which I will treat you to dinner,’ said Mrs Bradley. This simple, satisfactory programme was carried out, but as they were going into the cocktail bar, Laura leading, as usual (for she held a chivalrous theory that her employer should be protected, as far as possible, from the rude gaze of the road-house frequenters), an unexpected apparition waved a pleased hand in greeting. It was Toby Dance, who had left Sir Bohun’s house soon after the Sherlock Holmes party, leaving Brenda, he explained, to stay on for a bit, as there seemed some idea that Sir Bohun wanted someone to play chaperone.