“Oh, they come to his church all right. Full house every Sunday. Standing room only.”
“How does he do it?”
“Personal attraction. He’s equally successful with animals. However savage or shy they are, he can make them come to him and behave themselves.”
“He ought to try it on a bull.”
“He has. Listen to this. On one. occasion a bull got loose and threatened some children who were picnicking in a field. The rector, who happened to be passing, quelled the bull with a few well-chosen words. The children were soon taking rides on the bull’s back.”
“Animal magnetism.”
“I suppose, if you’d met St. Francis of Assisi, you’d have said, ‘animal magnetism’.”
“He was a Saint.”
“How do you know this man isn’t?”
“He may be. But it would need more than a few tricks with animals to convince me.”
“Then what about miracles? On another occasion the rector was wakened on a night of storm by an alarm of fire. The verger ran down to the rectory to tell the rector that a barn had been struck by lightning. The telephone line to the nearest village with a fire brigade was down. The rector said, ‘Not a moment to lose. The bells must be rung.’ And as he spoke the bells started to ring.”
Mr. Calder snorted.
“It’s gospel truth. Mr. Penny, the verger, vouches for it. He says that by the time he got back to his cottage, where the only key of the bell chamber is kept, and got across with it to the church, the bells had stopped ringing. He went up into the belfry. There was no one there. The ropes were on their hooks. Everything was in perfect order. At that moment the fire brigade arrived. They had heard the bells and were just in time to save the barn.”
Mr. Calder said, “It sounds like a tall story to me. What do you think, Rasselas?” The dog showed his long white teeth in a smile. “He agrees with me. What is the name of this miracle worker?”
“He is the Reverend Francis Osbaldestone.”
“Rector of Hedgeborn, in the heart of rural Norfolk?”
“Do you know him?”
“I heard his name for the first time at about ten o’clock last night.”
“In that case,” said Mr. Behrens, “according to the fantastic rules propounded and believed in by you, you will hear it again before ten o’clock this evening.”
It was at this precise moment that the telephone rang.
Since Mr. Calder’s telephone number was not only unlisted but changed every six months, his incoming calls were likely to be matters of business. He was not surprised, therefore, to recognize the voice of Mr. Fortescue, who was the Manager of the Westminster Branch of the London and Home Counties Bank, and other things besides.
Mr. Fortescue said, “I’d like to see you and Behrens as soon as possible. Shall we say, tomorrow afternoon?”
“Certainly,” said Mr. Calder. “Can you give me any idea what it’s about?”
“You’ll find it all in your Observer. An article about a clergyman who performs miracles. Francis Osbaldestone.”
“Ah!” said Mr. Calder.
“You sound pleased about something,” said Mr. Fortescue suspiciously.
Mr. Calder said, “You’ve just proved a theory.”
“I understand,” said Mr. Fortescue, “that you knew Colonel Faulkner quite well, in the army.”
“He was my Company Commander,” said Mr. Calder.
“Would you say he was an imaginative man?”
“I should think he’s got about as much imagination as a Number Eleven bus.”
“Or a man who would be easily deluded?”
“I’d hate to try.”
Mr. Fortescue pursed his lips primly and said, “That was my impression, too. Do you know Hedgeborn?”
“Not the village. But I know that part of Norfolk. It’s fairly primitive. The army had a battle school near there during the war. They were a bit slow about handing it back, too.”
“I seem to remember,” said Mr. Behrens, “that there was a row about it. Questions in Parliament. Did they give it back in the end?”
“Most of it. They kept Snettisham Manor, with its park. After all the trouble at Porton Experimental Station they moved the poison gas section down to Cornwall and transferred the Bacterial Warfare Wing to Snettisham, which is less than two miles from Hedgeborn.”
“I can understand,” said Mr. Calder, “that Security would keep a careful eye on an establishment like Snettisham. But why should they be alarmed by a saintly rector two miles down the valley?”
“You are not aware of what happened last week?”
“Ought we to be?”
“It has been kept out of the press, but it’s bound to leak out sooner or later. Your saintly rector led what I can only describe as a village task force. It was composed of the members of the Parochial Church Council and two dozen or so of the villagers and farmers. They broke into Snettisham Manor.”
“But, good God,” said Mr. Calder, “the security arrangements must have been pretty ropey.”
“The security was adequate. A double-wire fence, patrolling guards and dogs. The village blacksmith cut the fence in two places. A farm tractor dragged it clear. They had no trouble with the guards, who were armed only with truncheons. The farmers had shotguns.”
“And the dogs?”
“They made such a fuss over the rector that he was, I understand, in some danger of being licked to death.”
“What did they do when they got in?” said Behrens.
“They broke into the experimental wing and liberated twenty rabbits, a dozen guinea pigs, and nearly fifty rats.”
Mr. Behrens started to laugh, but managed to turn it into a cough when he observed Mr. Fortescue’s eyes on him.
“I hope you don’t think it was funny, Behrens. A number of the rats had been infected with Asiatic plague. They hope they recaptured or destroyed the whole of that batch.”
“Has no action been taken against the rector?”
“Naturally. The police were informed. An Inspector and a Sergeant drove over from Thetford to see the rector. They were refused access.”
“Refused?”
“They were told,” said Mr. Fortescue gently, “that if they attempted to lay hands on the rector they would be resisted — by force.”
“But surely—” said Mr. Behrens. And stopped.
“Yes,” said Mr. Fortescue. “Do think before you say anything. Try to visualize the unparalleled propaganda value to our friends in the various C.N.D. and Peace Groups if an armed force had to be dispatched to seize a village clergyman.”
Mr. Behrens said, “Pm visualizing it. Do you think one of the more enterprising bodies — the International Brotherhood Group occurs to me as a possibility — might have planted someone in Hedgeborn? Someone who is using the rector’s exceptional influence—”
“It’s a possibility. You must remember that the Bacterial Warfare Wing has only been there for two years. If anyone has been planted, it has been done comparatively recently.”
“How long has the rector been there?” said Mr. Calder.
“For eighteen months.”
“I see.”
“The situation is full of possibilities, I agree. I suggest you tackle it from both ends. I should suppose, Behrens, that there are few people who know more about the International Brotherhood Group and its ramifications than you do. Can you find out whether they have been active in this area recently?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“We can none of us do more than our best,” agreed Mr. Fortescue. “And you, Calder, must go down to Hedgeborn immediately. I imagine Colonel Faulkner would invite you?”