Precipice

'Oh, well. Sit where you like.' She looked sulky. 'I suppose you're not going to tell us what you've been up to with Paula.' she said suggestively.

'No.' Tweed responded amiably. 'As a matter of fact, I'm not even going to give you a clue.'

He saw Paula's expression tighten, about to say something. Under the table he touched her foot, signalling Let me handle this.

'Sounds as though you've really made the most of your time together.' Eve remarked, determined to pursue the subject.

'Can it.' said Philip.

Eve looked astounded. She turned to him. Her head was held high as she stared straight at him.

'What did you say to me?'

'I said can it.' Philip repeated. 'And go easy on the vodkas.'

Eve reacted by emptying her glass, calling for a refill, and lighting a fresh cigarette from the one she had just been smoking. Franklin, with a broad smile, intervened.

'We also had a busy afternoon. I took Eve for a tour of the Purbecks. We ended up in Worth Matravers, which, as I guess you know, is perched high up. We called in at a small pub which has a dramatic view of the sea. I was glad I wasn't sailing – the sea was a cauldron.'

'Funny little place, that inn.' Eve joined in. 'They didn't have vodka.'

'That didn't matter.' Franklin laughed good-humouredly. 'You made up for it drinking cognac. This lady.' he told everyone, 'has a head like a rock. I suspect she could drink me under the table…'

My God, Paula was thinking. Vodkas, then cognac, then more vodkas.

They had a leisurely dinner and Eve devoted most of her attention to Franklin. Philip seemed unaffected, turned instead to Paula and conversed with her and Tweed.

The atmosphere became jovial and jokey while Tweed was doing two things on the quiet. He checked his watch in his lap – they had to leave in good time to meet the barman, Ben, at Bowling Green. He was also observing Eve.

He decided she felt she always had to be the centre of attention. He suspected this was due to a well-hidden inferiority complex. And yet there were times when she was charming, turning to chat animatedly with Philip over coffee. Or was it that she didn't like him paying too much attention to Paula?

'I hope you won't mind.' he said as he signed the bill, 'but Philip and Paula are coming with me to a meeting with someone. I doubt if we'll be away more than an hour. Bill, could you once again entertain Eve?'

'It will be my pleasure,' Franklin assured him, and beamed.

'Can't I join you?' Eve pleaded. 'I've hardly been able to talk to Philip all evening.'

'Sorry. I really am,' Tweed told her. 'But it is about a confidential insurance problem which turns out to be urgent.'

That's all right, then.' Eve gave him a smile. 'I will wait up for Philip to get back.' She turned to Philip. 'Don't be too long, darling. Bill and I will be getting sozzled in the lounge.'

'I'm sozzled already,' Franklin said as they all stood up. 'But I'll keep up with Eve. My reputation is at stake…'

Tweed, after collecting his coat, followed Newman along the corridor on the ground floor of the Priory leading to the exit. Paula was behind him as Newman spoke to the proprietor, who had been studying sheets of figures behind his counter.

'We're going for a walk,' Newman explained to the proprietor. 'We need it after our excellent dinner. But we'll be walking along that towpath on the other side of the Frome…'

'It will be muddy, very slippery.' the proprietor warned, glancing at their shoes.

'That's what I suspected.' Newman continued. 'Have you by any chance any spare gumboots?'

'Loads of them. Visitors leave them behind, forget them. I'll bring a selection.'

'Any for me?' Paula called out.

'I think we can oblige…'

They were all equipped with gumboots in minutes. Newman asked for a spare pair of gumboots, slightly smaller than his own.

'We're meeting a friend.' he said. 'And we'll leave our shoes in my car – that way we don't trample mud all over your carpets when we get back…'

Newman led the way to the Black Bear to collect Marler. The spare pair of gumboots fitted him well.

'Archie has gone to sleep and Butler is keeping an eye on his room.' Marler reported as Newman took them back the way they had come.

'As we're not going along the towpath why the gumboots?' Paula asked. 'And what's inside that canvas bag you're carrying?'

'You'll see when we climb East Walls.' Newman told her. 'And' – he opened the canvas bag – 'everyone should carry a powerful torch, so here you are. I always carry them in the back of the car.'

'And a very uncomfortable pillow that bag made.' Marler commented. 'I presume we're all armed. I've brought a Walther. Lord knows who we'll meet at this hour and at this time of night. Maybe The Motor-man.'

'Don't make jokes like that.' Paula protested. 'It's eerie enough here at night.'

Wareham was dead at that hour. There was not another soul in sight as Newman led them back into the square and by a complicated route past the spired church which loomed up close to the Priory. Tweed pointed to it as he walked with Paula.

'That's hundreds of years old. The hotel used to be a nunnery. Wareham is steeped in history.'

'What are these East Walls you mentioned?' Paula asked Newman.

'They're supposed to be the walls the Saxons built to keep out Danish invaders. They run along the eastern side of the town. Then there are North Walls and West Walls. They pretty much join up so you can walk round on the top of them and get a bird's-eye view of Wareham.'

'And South Walls, too?' Paula enquired.

'No. The River Frome provided a barrier to invaders so no walls were needed there.'

'It's very dark and quiet,' she commented.

'It will get darker and quieter. Here we are…'

Newman had been striding it out, occasionally switching on his torch, which he did now. Across a street Paula saw a steep muddy path mounting a high grassy hump.

'I don't see any walls.' she said as they began a slippery ascent.

'They're supposed to be underneath us.' Tweed told her. 'Actually the so-called walls are more like a huge embankment circling three-quarters of the town.'

Below them on their left was a deserted road. To their right were some miserable allotments beyond a few houses. Paula pointed down to the road.

'Wouldn't it be easier walking along the road? It seems to run parallel to this slimy track.'

'More dangerous.' Marler called over his shoulder, walking just behind Newman. 'Easier for someone to lie in wait for us. Always take the high ground.'

She noticed Marler had slipped the Walther out of his holster and was holding it by his side. As she took out her Browning Tweed called out quietly.

'Our interview with Ben will probably be uneventful.'

'Famous last words…'

They continued along the narrow path, descending every now and again from one hump to a track or road, then climbing again up another treacherous path. By the light of the moon Paula saw that beyond the outskirts of Wareham the fields everywhere were inundated under water. They trudged along further under a star-studded sky and Paula clasped her windcheater round her neck. It was bitterly cold even without a wind. Suddenly Newman raised a hand for them to pause.

'We're there. The path swings to the left and has now become North Walls. There is Bowling Green.'

He flashed his torch down into a grass bowl to their left. It was deserted as Marler took the lead, turning a right angle. Newman swivelled his torch over the whole bowl.

'No sign of Ben and his dog. He's probably on the footpath further along.'

'Look at all that water,' Paula remarked. 'There's a river and it looks as though it's overflowed.'

'It has,' said Tweed. 'There are two rivers hemming in Wareham. The one we came over when we crossed the bridge entering Wareham is the Piddle or – if you wish to be politer – the Trent.'