“Why don’t you come with me? You can. You’re on leave. It’d do you good.”
Ellis regarded him.
“How?”
“Easy enough. I’ll say you’re an expert I’ve brought with me.
“Thanks. I’d be bowled out in a minute.”
“No you wouldn’t. Stick to your ’nineties. Besides, you wouldn’t get a word in edgeways.”
Gilkison saw that he had decided to come, but would still argue. He smiled in quick affection for the bellicose absurd figure sitting forward in the chair. He could see just what Ellis must have been like as a small boy.
The girl, putting her head in to see if they wanted any more coffee or biscuits, caught the smile, and smiled back. The two men were as unlike as possible. Gilkison, tall, dark, and donnish, in navy blue, with his gentle, musical voice and few smooth gestures, seemed a perpetual reproof to his explosive and uncouth companion.
“I’m persuading Mr. McKay to come with me,” Gilkison told the girl. “I tell him a holiday will do him good.”
She flushed.
“I’m sure it would,” she said eagerly, smiling from one to the other. “Would Mr. McKay like a little more coffee?”
“Mr. McKay, having a tongue in his head, says thank you very much, he would.”
She looked flustered for an instant. With an unspeakable grin Ellis put her right, and she took his cup and went out giggling. Ellis grunted.
“The way you enslave these girls that work for you. It’s disgusting.”
“I?” Gilkison spread his hands. “Monstrous! It is you, on the other hand, winking and leering——”
“Don’t evade, don’t evade. You know perfectly well that you never rest till you’ve wormed your way into their immature affections, done the helpless bachelor at them, made them yearn to sew the buttons on your pants——”
“This is disgraceful. This is positively coarse,” Gilkison exclaimed in delight.
“I have never seen a man take fouler advantage of the fact that young women are economically dependent on him. You make every request a solicitation, every approach a caress. Your very voice——”
“Be quiet,” Gilkison said sharply, as the girl came in.
“Thank you.” Ellis beamed on her. “I really do need it.”
“I’m sure you do,” she exclaimed, and withdrew.
“I never leer,” said Ellis. “Give me a biscuit.”
Gilkison surveyed him.
“Well. Are you coming with me?”
“Where is it?”
“Seven miles from Exeter.”
“When do you start?”
“Hour and a half.”
“Does he collect gramophone records?”
“My dear man—I’ve no idea. Why should he?”
“Why shouldn’t he? I do.”
“A dangerous standard to apply. Are you coming?”
“Damn you. I suppose I might as well.” He heaved himself to his feet.
“Paddington. Twenty past eleven.”
“Train goes?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there eleven ten. Keep a seat for me.”
“Don’t be late.” A note of entreaty came into the bookseller’s precise voice. “It’s no joke trying to keep a seat nowadays. People say the foulest things.”
“Hand ’em back, with interest.”
“You enjoy being rude. I don’t.”
Ellis rubbed his chin. A look of extreme surprise came over his face.
“I must shave,” he said.
CHAPTER TWO
Gilkison stood at the door of the compartment, clicking his tongue with nervous exasperation. The hand of the big clock was close on the quarter.
“No. I’m sorry. Both these seats are taken.”
The burdened soldier looked sulkily at him, and shuffled on. A woman in the compartment made an audible remark. Gilkison’s ears reddened. He tapped his foot, and looked down the platform in despair.
Suddenly the crowd parted, and the well-known figure came charging along. Ellis caught sight of Gilkison, and waved his free hand. The other clutched a corpulent and ancient Gladstone bag, over which dangled an overcoat and a mackintosh. As Ellis drew near, Gilkison saw that the bag had been rendered lethal by the addition of a stout three-legged easel, thrust through the straps.
“Hallo, hallo, hallo,” Ellis had made one of his characteristic quick recoveries. His hair stood up briskly, his face shone. “Got a seat for me? Good.”
“A precious job I’ve had to keep it.” When he was at all agitated or excited, Gilkison relapsed into a slight lisp. “About fifty people have tried to take it. I’ve had some very dirty looks.”
“That won’t hurt you. Now then.”
Ellis looked at the full racks, then at the woman who was sitting next to his corner. Every line of her was tense. Resentment quivered up from her like heat from heather.
“Do you mind if I put my bag under your suitcase, madam? It’s far too heavy to put on top. May I move this along? Thank you. That’s most kind. Upsy!”
He executed a series of violent manœuvres, swung up the bulging bag, stood up on the seat, tucked in his coats, then jumped down, and gave the rigid lady a beaming smile.
“There we are. That’s grand.”
He sat down firmly, wedging his broad behind into the narrow space accorded him.
“Well, Gilk, my boy. Terrible lot of people travelling these days. Even the corridor’s full, further down.”
“Some people got to travel,” the woman said, to no one in particular. “And take their turn for seats.”
“Yes,” Ellis cried. “Yes. That’s the worst of our profession, madam. We’re so busy protecting the public, we get no time at all for our ordinary pleasures as citizens. Sometimes we haven’t even time to get our rations. For two weeks on end, Inspector Gilkison, my colleague here, was obliged to live on birdseed.”
Gilkison started indignantly.
“It was him or the parrot,” Ellis continued, “and, as he was in the middle of a most important case, he felt it his duty to keep going. The bird lost weight, but I’m happy to say it has completely recovered. In fact, it seems the better for its fast. Wouldn’t you say so, Inspector?”
Gilkinson’s newspaper shot up, and concealed him. Ellis beamed at it, beamed at the unresponsive face beside him, settled himself comfortably, and, without any warning at all, went to sleep.
He did not wake till four hours later, when he opened one eye, and found the train running down the gentle wooded valley that leads to Exeter. He leaned forward, stretched, shook himself, and grinned at Gilkison.
“A brief nap. Did I snore?”
“You breathed heavily.”
“Really? A mark of the greatest confidence, to go to sleep in a compartment full of strangers. Nothing makes one look sillier or more defenceless. Have you ever seen yourself asleep, Inspector? No—I suppose not. On the whole, I think you’re lucky. The recollection might keep you awake.”
Resignedly, Gilkison stood up and began taking things down from the rack. Ellis watched him.
“Let me see. Are there six victims, or only five?”
“Seven,” Gilkison said, without turning round.
“Tut, tut. You shouldn’t exaggerate. You’ll undermine the public’s confidence in the force. They’ll stand for five women killed with a chopper, or even six: but not more.”
“Get your things down. We’re nearly there.”
“I like that path. Look—there, on the other side. It runs along above the road, on a sort of cliff. Grand place for a murder.”
The train rattled in front of a row of houses, and drew into St. David’s.
“Good-bye all,” Ellis said, and got only the vaguest murmur in reply.
“I didn’t have much opportunity to study our fellow-travellers,” he went on, to Gilkison. “What were they like? Did you beguile the journey with happy chat? No? You should. You’re too much taken up with yourself, Gilk. Too self-centred. Too much the bookworm.”