Gladys stared.
‘Going his round.’
Miss Silver coughed.
‘Oh, yes. But what exactly was he doing when you first caught sight of him?’
‘He was coming out of the church.’
Janice had a choking sensation. There was no air. She took a quick, shallow breath. Miss Silver’s even voice went on without any change.
‘I see. It was bright moonlight, was it not?’
‘Oh, yes, it was ever so bright.’
‘And where were you sitting with your friend?’
Gladys giggled.
‘Right up against the Rectory wall. There’s a tree comes over. We were sitting on Mr Doncaster’s grave. It’s got a nice flat stone on it.’
‘So you could see the church door quite plainly, but Mr Bush couldn’t see you?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And Mr Bush was coming out of the church?’
‘That’s right. He come out and he locked up, and he went off quick – didn’t come spying round like he does.’
Miss Silver coughed.
‘What time was this?’
‘I dunno.’
‘But the church clock strikes, does it not? Did you not hear it strike whilst you were in the churchyard?’
Gladys nodded.
‘That’s right – it struck ten.’
‘Before Mr Bush came out, or afterwards?’
‘Oh, afterwards.’
‘How long after?’
‘It wouldn’t be more than a minute or two. He went off round the church, and then the clock struck.’
‘There are three gates to the churchyard, I believe – one leading to the Green, one to the Church Cut, and one to the village street. Which way did Mr Bush go?’
‘Right out to the street. That’s his way home.’ She got up. ‘I’m going to be late for the pictures. I’m going to change.’
Miss Silver got up too.
‘Just a moment, Gladys. Where did you go for your walk?’
‘Oh, just round the Green.’
‘How long had you been in the churchyard before you saw Mr Bush?’
‘Oh, I dunno – about five minutes’
‘Did you hear a shot at any time during your walk?’
‘I dunno. Mr Giles, he shoots at the foxes – there’s often shots – I didn’t take any notice.’ She went up a step or two, then turned. ‘I told you it wasn’t nothing – any of it. And I’m going to be late.’ She giggled with a return of her easy good nature. ‘Do Sam good to keep him waiting, but I don’t want to miss the picture.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
GARTH ALBANY CAME knocking on Miss Silver’s door before she was dressed next morning. She opened it in a warm red flannel dressing-gown trimmed with hand-made crochet, her hair rather flat but perfectly neat in spite of the absence of a net. He slipped inside, shut the door behind him, and said, ‘Ezra Pincott has been found dead. The milk boy brought the news – Mabel has just told me. I thought you ought to know at once.’
‘Yes – yes, indeed.’ She stood quite still for a moment. ‘I felt very apprehensive. I had asked that he should have police protection.
‘Well,’ said Garth, ‘at any rate they can’t say Madoc did it – can they?’
Miss Silver said, ‘No-’ in rather an absent voice. And then, ‘Pray give me any particulars you may have learned.’
‘I didn’t see the boy myself. He’s about sixteen – Tommy Pincott, a cousin of Ezra’s and quite a bright lad. Mabel says he told her Ezra was found face down in the stream just beyond the last house in the village. It’s no depth there – not more than about a foot – but if he was drunk and tumbled in, there would be enough water to drown him.’
Miss Silver coughed.
‘You think it may have been an accident?’
Garth said bluntly, ‘No, I don’t. Drunk or sober, Ezra knew his way home, and got there. He’d been at it for too many years to drown himself a good quarter of a mile out of his way. I think somebody did him in and hoped it would be taken for an accident – and if he had been trying his hand at a spot of blackmail, there’s your motive.’
She said, ‘Yes.’ And then, ‘I must dress. Inspector Lamb must know of this at once. He will be coming down.’
But it was half-past three in the afternoon before the Chief Inspector and Sergeant Abbott rang the Rectory bell. Miss Silver received them in the study. Even at a moment like this she could not dispense with the personal side of a valued friendship. She shook hands with a smile. She enquired by name for each of the three daughters who were the pride of old Lamb’s heart.
‘The one in the A.T.’s has her commission? How very nice. Such a pretty girl – I remember you showed me her photograph. Lily – such a sweet name, and so appropriate for a fair girl. And Violet – in the Wrens, was she not?… Engaged to a Naval Officer? How very, very interesting. And your youngest daughter Myrtle – I think she was a W.A.A.F.? Such important work. I am sure she is enjoying it. And I hope Mrs Lamb is well, and does not miss her girls too much.’
Frank Abbott controlled a humorous twist of his lips. There had been a time when he suspected Miss Silver of diplomacy, but it was all as serious on her side as old Lamb’s. She really wanted to know about his daughters, and whether his wife was enjoying good health. He took the opportunity of sharpening a pencil and waited for them to emerge from domesticity.
Lamb led the way.
‘Well, well, we must get down to business. I hear you want to see Mr Madoc.’
‘I should like to do so, if you will be so very kind as to make it possible.’
He nodded.
‘Eleven o’clock tomorrow. He’s in Marbury jail, as I expect you know. There isn’t very much you don’t know – is there? And whilst you are there, see if you can get him to talk. Not about the crime of course – that wouldn’t be proper now he’s been charged – but the War Office is pestering us about this invention of Mr Harsch’s in which they were interested. Harsch made a will leaving everything to Madoc, and that includes all the notes about his experiments, and this invention, whatever it is. They say the whole thing was practically completed and they want it badly. Madoc won’t play because he’s a pacifist. They don’t know whether they can get the will set aside or not, but meanwhile they are in a regular stew about Harsch’s papers, because if he was murdered for them, they won’t just be left kicking about. Mind you, I’m not saying that’s why he was murdered. Our case was against Meade, and the motive there would have been jealousy, but this Sir George Rendal is very hot on its being the work of an enemy agent, and he’s like a cat on hot bricks about those papers. Madoc, he won’t play – just says they were left to him and they’re his affair.’
‘So I understand from Major Albany.’
‘Well, you try and get Madoc to say what he’s done with them. Between ourselves, we’ve put on two men from the Special Branch just to see there isn’t a convenient burglary up at Prior’s End.’
Miss Silver coughed.
‘You said just now that your case was against Mr Madoc. Did you use the past tense advisedly?’
Lamb had seated himself in the rector’s old chair, which was of very comfortable proportions for a man of his size and weight. There was a shade of reluctance in his expression as he looked across at Miss Silver busily knitting a khaki sock for her second cousin Ellen Brownlee’s son in the Buffs. The Air Force pair, duly completed, now reposed upstairs in the left-hand top drawer of Miss Fell’s spare bedroom, waiting for the address which she had asked her niece Ethel to send on to her as soon as possible. The needles clicked, the ball of khaki wool revolved. Miss Silver sustained that reluctant look with a pleasant, deprecating smile.
Lamb cleared his throat.
‘As a matter of fact, this man Ezra Pincott’s death – well, it’s a complication, there’s no doubt about that. I’ll give you what we’ve got. If you can see where it fits in, I can’t.’