‘Exactly. The man she recognized could have been the left-luggage clerk at Hagford… the missing Price. Had it been anyone else I don’t think she would have worried. No doubt she had been summoned to Cromlech for some instructions which could not be confided in writing or over the telephone, and which the fern-code could not sufficiently clearly express. But when she saw Price, her conscience made a coward of her, and Trench’s fears made a murderer out of him.’
Chapter Fourteen
DAMP HOUSE
‘Let what there needs be done. Stay! with him one companion,
His deacon, Dirvan: Warm twice over must the welcome be,
But both will share one cell.’
gerard manley hopkins – St Winefred’s Well
« ^ »
‘So that’s the argument,’ said Laura thoughtfully. ‘Faintley had been summoned for a conference and recognized Price, who ought to have been at Hagford railway station. Still, he was on holiday. Something he said must have given her the clue, I suppose, that things had gone wrong about the parcel, so she sent for Trench. Trench realized that he was in a spot if she reported him to the bosses, so he met her at Torbury station and suggested they go to Cromlech Down House for a show-down, and there he murdered her. Maybe he had been instructed to murder her. Oh, well, it’s all speculation, so far, but it may be as far as we’ll get.’
Mrs Bradley did not share this pessimistic view. The harbour-master, contacted on the telephone by the police, came off to Canto Five in his launch and invited Laura to make what use she liked of his house. There was an upstair window from which she could watch the Damp House. He had never heard it called that, he observed. It had been used as a clubhouse by people calling themselves the Burgee Mariners, but that was before the war. It belonged now to a man named Shagg, who used it at week-ends and in holiday times, and often had friends to stay with him.
‘That’s his boat, that rusty contraption out there,’ the harbour-master added. ‘She’s got a Thames registration, so I suppose that’s where he keeps her when she’s not down here.’
This information clinched the matter. The Damp House was identified. Laura settled down in a first-floor room to keep watch. Lunch was brought to her at one o’clock, and long before tea-time she was feeling extremely bored. There were very few people about and those that there were did not come into her view for more than a moment, but made for the shops, the post office or the hotel. After three in the afternoon there descended a kind of doldrums on the harbour channel also, and as the house she was watching seemed as empty as a robbed and rifled grave, Laura heartily wished herself back on Canto Five. Tea, brought at half past four, was an extremely welcome diversion, so much so that, although she dutifully kept her eyes on the window, Laura almost missed seeing the rusty cruiser putting out to sea. To her astonishment, Canto Five did not follow.
‘Wonder what Mrs Croc. has got up her sleeve?’ thought Laura. ‘I should have been after them like a shot. Wonder whether they came from shore, or whether they were already there and popped up from the cabin?’
Her speculations were cut short by the arrival of a small sailing boat of the Tumlare class, double-ended and fast, with only one man aboard her. That he knew his job was evident, and Laura, with one eye on Damp House, watched him come up to moorings with the appreciation of one expert for the work of another.
When he rowed ashore in his tiny dinghy, she saw, to her astonishment, that it was Bannister. Very shortly afterwards there was a knock at the door, and the harbour-master’s wife came up to say that Mrs Bradley and a gentleman would be glad of a word and that she would show them up.
‘But what are you doing down here? You ought to be at school!’ exclaimed Laura, when her erstwhile colleague and her employer came into the room.
‘I’m on sick leave,’ said Bannister, grinning, ‘medical certificate and all, so I thought I’d come along and see what you were up to.’
Laura glanced at her employer.
‘You sent for him,’ she said. ‘That means a rough-house. Anything for a change. I’m bored to tears. By the way, why did you let Rusty get away from us? I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw her going over towards Lymington.’
‘She won’t go to Lymington, child. She will alter course and make for the dredger. The birds are attempting to fly, but they will not get far. Detective-Inspector Vardon and the local police force already, if my message has not miscarried, are in possession of the dredger, and the Customs and Excise officials will, no doubt, take charge of the cabin cruiser.’
‘But it may not be a case for the Customs.’
‘If it is not, no harm will have been done. There are only two men on board. They came on a motor cycle combination over the toll-bridge. I do not think they will give the officers much trouble.’
‘So we miss the last of the fun, and we still don’t know what their game is, or what the ferns mean, or whether Trench really murdered Faintley!’
‘Be of good cheer. Mr Bannister has offered to remain here with you until nightfall, and as soon as it is dark you may return to Canto Five and he will go back on board his yacht.’
Laura, who was feeling disgruntled, disclaimed any need for companionship, so Mrs Bradley grinning like an alligator and Bannister looking disappointed, the two left the harbour-master’s house and Laura was left again in solitude.
The harbour-master produced a battery-operated radio set for her amusement, but the long summer evening passed slowly, and still nothing happened. Dusk fell at last, and Laura, thankful to the darkness and to her hosts, slipped out and was about to cross between the hotel and the post office when a light was put on in the house she had been watching. Laura took cover and was rewarded for her long hours of fruitless vigil when the front door opened and a man stood there silhouetted against the light. She could make out nothing but a black shape as he remained there, apparently with his hands in his pockets, softly whistling an unfamiliar tune which seemed to stop short each time, as though the whistler had forgotten or could not manage the last two bars. He had attempted the tune four times when, as though the whistling had been a signal, another man strolled casually up to the house, and handed something to the whistler. The next moment he had gone again, and was lost among the shadowy buildings. The door was shut and the light went out in the hall, but another immediately appeared in an upstair room.
Laura was both puzzled and excited. She was loath to return to her boat now that the house had at last shown signs of life; on the other hand, she felt that Mrs Bradley must be informed of this development. She decided to wait another few minutes to see whether there would be anything else to report, and was well-rewarded. Out of the shadows crept two more men, and after them another man who seemed to wish to follow them without their being aware of him.
The little port was deserted at that time of night, for the shops and the post office had long been shut and the local yacht club was down by the Hard. There was no reason for the hotel residents to roam about after dark, and the hotel bars were not open to the public. Sounds of the ten o’clock news, raucously loud, drowned all other noise except that made by a back-firing automobile in a back street. It was the time for treason, stratagems and spoils, thought Laura, tingling with excitement. Softly she crept after the two men, for the third had melted into the night and she had lost track of him. There was no approach by the front door this time, but a furtive slinking into the shadows at the side of the house. Laura halted and listened. She was anxious to know where the third man was. He made no sign. From the other two she heard first a slight cough, then a faint tinkling.