They took this without much show of interest. “There’ll be cash, no doubt,” Dan said. “He was a great old one for putting away bits of cash. Proper old jackdaw, us used to call him.” He caught back his breath harshly.
Alleyn said, “I’m sorry it has to be like this.” Dan was the one nearest to him. “He’s an elderly chap himself,” Alleyn thought, and touched him lightly on the shoulder. “Sorry,” he repeated and looked at Fox and Carey. “Shall we move on?”
“Do you want me again?” Dr. Otterly asked.
“If I can just have a word with you.”
They all went out through the forge. Alleyn paused and looked round.
“What a place for a search! The collection of generations. There’s the door, Fox, where Ernie says the note was pinned. And his room’s beyond that.”
He went down a narrow pathway between two heaped-up benches of litter and opened the door in the end wall. Beyond it was a tiny room with a bed that had been pulled together rather than made and gave clear evidence of use. The room was heaped up with boxes, piles of old newspapers and all kinds of junk. A small table had evidently served as a desk and bore a number of account books, files and the Guiser’s old-fashioned copper-plate bills. In Dr. to W. Andersen, Blacksmith, Copse Forge, South Mardian. A pencil lay across a folded pile of blotting-paper.
“Hard lead,” Alleyn said to Fox, who stood in the doorway. “The message was written with a hard point. Wonder if the paper lay here. Let’s have a look.”
He held the blotting-paper to the light and then took out his pocket lens. “Yes,” he grunted, “it’s there all right. A faint trace but it could be brought out. It’s the trace of the note we’ve already got, my hearties. We’ll put Bailey and Thompson on to this lot. Hullo!”
He had picked up a sheet of paper. Across it, in blue indelible pencil, was written, Wednesday, W. Andersen. Kindly sharpen my slasher at once if not all ready done do it yourself mind and return by bearer to avoid further trouble as urgently require and oblige Jno. MacGlashan. P.S. I will have none but yourself on this job.
“Carey!” Alleyn called out, and the Superintendent loomed up behind Fox. “Who’s Jno. MacGlashan? Here, take a look at this. Will this be the slasher in question?”
“That’ll be the one, surely,” Carey agreed. “MacGlashan’s the gardener up along.”
“It was written yesterday. Who would the bearer be?”
“His boy, no doubt.”
“Didn’t they tell us Ernie sharpened the slasher? And took it up late yesterday afternoon? And whiffled the goose’s head off with it?”
“That’s right, sir. That’s what they said.”
“So the boy, if the boy was the bearer, was sent empty away.”
“Must of been.”
“And the slasher comes to a sticky end in the bonfire. Now, all of this,” Alleyn said, rubbing his nose, “is hellish intriguing.”
“Is it?” Fox asked stolidly.
“My dear old chap, of course it is. Nip back to the coach-house ünd tell Bailey and Thompson to move in here as soon as they’re ready and do their stuff.” Fox went sedately off and Alleyn shut the door of the bedroom behind him. “We’ll have this room sealed, Carey. And will you check up on the slasher story? Find out who spoke to the boy. And, Carey, I’ll leave you in charge down here for the time being. Do you mind?”
Superintendent Carey, slightly bewildered by this mode of approach, said that he didn’t.
“Right. Come on.”
He led the way outside, where Dr. Otterly waited in his car.
Carey, hanging off and on, said, “Will I seal the room now, sir? Or what?”
“Let the flash and dabs chaps in first. Fox is fixing them. Listen as inconspicuously as you can to the elder Andersen boys’ general conversation. How old is Dan, by the way? Sixty, did you say?”
“Turned sixty, I reckon.”
“And Ernie?”
“He came far in the rear, which may account for him being not right smart.”
“He’s smart enough,” Alleyn muttered, “in a way. Believe me, he’s only dumb nor’-nor’-west and yesterday, I fancy, the wind was in the south.”
“It shifted in the night,” Carey said and stared at him. “Look, Mr. Alleyn,” he burst out, “I can’t help but ask. Do you reckon Ernie Andersen’s our chap?”
“My dear man, I don’t know. I think his brothers are determined to stop him talking. So’s this man Begg, by the way. I could cheerfully have knocked Begg’s grinning head off his shoulders. Sorry! Unfortunate phrase. But I believe Ernie was going to give me a straight answer, one way or the other.”
“Suppose,” Carey said, “Ernie lost his temper with the old chap, and gave a kind of swipe, or suppose he was just fooling with that murderous sharp whiffler of his and — and — well, without us noticing while the Guiser was laying doggo behind the stone — Ar, hell!”
“Yes,” Alleyn said grimly, “and it’ll turn out that the only time Ernie might have waltzed round behind the stone was the time when young Stayne had pinched his sword. And what about the state of the sword, Carey? Nobody had time to clean it and restain it with green sap, had they? And, my dear man, what about blood? Blood, Carey — which reminds me, we are keeping the doctor waiting. Leave Bailey and Thompson here while you arrange with Obby or that P.C. by the castle gates to take your place when you want to get off. I’ll bring extra men in if we need them. I’ll leave you the car and ask Dr. Otterly to take us up to the pub. O.K.?”
“O.K., Mr. Alleyn. I’ll be up along later, then?”
“Right. Here’s Fox. Come on, Foxkin. Otterly, will you give us a lift?”
Carey turned back into the forge and Alleyn and Fox got into Dr. Otterly’s car.
Dr. Otterly said, “Look here, Alleyn, before we go on I want to ask you something.”
“I bet I know what it is. Do we or do we not include you in our list of suspects?”
“Exactly so,” Otterly said rather stuffily. “After all, one would prefer to know. Um?”
“Of course. Well, at the moment, unless you can explain how you fiddled unceasingly in full view of a Superintendent of Police, a P.C., a Dame of the British Empire, a parson and about fifty other witnesses during the whole of the period when this job must have been done and, at the same time, did it, you don’t look to be a likely starter.”
“Thank you,” said Dr. Otterly.
“On the other hand, you look to be a damn’ good witness. Did you watch the dancers throughout?”
“Never took my eyes off ’em. A conscientious fiddler doesn’t.”
“Wonderful. Don’t let’s drive up for a moment, shall we? Tell me this. Would you swear that it was in fact the Guiser who danced the role of Fool?”
Dr. Otterly stared at him. “Good Lord, of course it was! I thought you understood. I’d gone out to start proceedings, I heard the rumpus, I went back and found him lugging his clothes off Ernie. I had a look at him, not a proper medical look, because he wouldn’t let me, and I told him if he worked himself up any more he’d probably crock up anyway. So he calmed down, put on the Fool’s clothes and the bag-mask, and, when he was ready, I went out. Ernie followed and did his whiffling. I could see the others waiting to come on. The old man appeared last, certainly, but I could see him just beyond the gate, watching the others. He’d taken his mask off and only put it on at the last moment.”