Caldwell appeared to relax, leaning back and shaking his head. "It was a nasty business-there was blood all over the place. And talk about ransacked! Fortunately Mrs. Clifton used the hotel safe for her jewels and valuables, but that didn't stop the perpetrator turning over the whole room. We think they disturbed him when they returned after tea."
"What kind of weapon was used?"
"He didn't need to bring a weapon, there was one already there."
"What do you mean?" Maisie leaned forward.
"An interesting piece of equipment-they call it a theodolite. Heavy it is, made of solid brass. This one was engraved with their son's name. Apparently it was retrieved from the dugout after his remains were found-and they found other tools that belonged to him, all with his name engraved. According to communication I've had with the eldest son, each member of his family bought him an item of equipment when he first became a cartographer, so their names were also on the tools of his trade."
"I see…" Maisie was thoughtful.
"Right then, this will never get the eggs cooked, will it, Miss Dobbs?" Caldwell stood up, buttoned his coat, and picked up his hat. A detective sergeant who had accompanied him put away the notebook into which he had inscribed details of the conversation, and the two walked to the door.
"Oh, before you leave, Inspector-do you have a description of the assailant? Did anyone see an interloper make his way to the room?"
Caldwell shook his head. "The hotel's a busy place-don't know how people can afford that sort of money, myself-so we've little to go on. We've been interviewing the staff, but it seems that any suspicious characters, when described, could be just about anyone on the street. Now then, Miss Dobbs, I really do have to leave. I trust you'll be in contact should you come across any information that will assist us in our inquiries."
"Of course, be assured you'll be the first to know. Oh, and Detective Inspector, when do you think Mr. Clifton might be well enough to receive a visitor?"
"Not yet, Miss Dobbs, but…" Caldwell faltered. "But I'll see what I can do in a day or so."
"Thank you. I appreciate your consideration." Maisie paused for a second. "Might we expect return of the letters when you have had an opportunity to go through them? Mr. and Mrs. Clifton were anxious for work to begin on the investigation as soon as possible."
Caldwell shook his head. "We'll need them for a while. You'll have to start work with whatever you have at the moment." He placed his hat on his head and made one last comment before turning to leave. "Oh, and I should tell you that Mr. Edward Clifton Junior is on his way, expected to arrive in Southampton at the end of next week. He'll be joining his sister's husband, who's been in England on company business."
A theodolite? Sounds like something you'd find in a church." Billy came back into the room after escorting the policemen to the door.
"And it actually looks a bit like something you'd see in a church, too, because it's a hefty piece of equipment-and could do a lot of damage if used to clout someone over the head."
"What's it used for?"
"I know it's used in surveying and engineering work, and obviously by cartographers. I think it's for measuring the angles-up and down, and across-of a given landscape, and I think it's particularly useful when assessing ground that is not easily negotiated. A battlefield, for instance."
"So it was buried with him all this time, and now they've got it?"
"Yes, seems like it."
"Bet a tool like that could tell a few stories if it could talk." Billy was looking out of the window, as if pondering the life of the object under discussion.
"You've been reading the penny dreadfuls again, haven't you, Billy?" Maisie's tone was light as she teased her assistant, though the same thought had occurred to her.
"Funny that the Cliftons never told us about the son-in-law being over here too, don't you think, Miss?"
"Yes and no. There was no need for them to tell us, and I think that perhaps they were more concerned with meeting us and knowing that someone had taken the load of seeking out the source of the wartime letters to Michael."
Soon the case map was situated on the table once more. Maisie had begun to read through the list of names from the letters weeded out by Billy as most promising. He had made notes on each letter.
"I didn't have time to put down more about the others, just the ones with a bit of a ring of truth to them. Mind you, can't all be the one, can they? And that means there are some good storytellers out there."
"The whiff of wealth can make even the most dull eloquent."
"It's certainly made me learn a new word or two, make no mistake!" Billy smiled, then appeared more serious. "Miss, what happens if the lady in question didn't even see the advertisement? Or what if she saw it and didn't want to be found? How will we find her then?"
Maisie tapped a pencil against the palm of her left hand. "To tell you the truth, I think that's a distinct possibility. But there's more to consider here. I don't think the attack on the Cliftons was as simple as their encountering a burglar who happened to choose their room to break into. And though the letters are important, the search that Mr. Clifton really wanted me to take on was not for a woman, but for a murderer-the man who killed his son. So, first of all, I have to educate myself in the practices of the surveying party. I need to find out who they were, how they worked, and anything anyone can tell me about them."
"That's going to be nigh on impossible. It was a long time ago, and it sounds like they're probably all dead."
"We'll see…"
"You know, Miss, I've been thinking about maps, what with Michael Clifton being a cartographer and him being fascinated with maps since he was a nipper. I've always wondered why you call this a case map, where you got the idea from." He tapped the edge of the paper. "After all, it don't look much like a map."
She looked up from her work. "It was what we did when I worked for Maurice. The idea was to lay out all your suspicions, facts, clues, ideas, and you look for patterns. In this way you can see everything before you, rather than simply a notebook filled with scribble. It's the difference between seeing the land laid out on paper like a picture, and someone describing it in words."
"And then trying to make sense of it all." Billy sighed. "I can't get that Michael Clifton out of my mind. I mean, he seems to have been a good sort of bloke, someone you'd want as a mucker. So who would want to kill him? It was bad enough when the enemy had it in for you, let alone the men you shared the dugout with."
Maisie nodded. "And that's exactly what we have to find out." She stood up and moved to her desk, where she picked up the telephone. "There's a few people I need to talk to-and with a bit of luck, someone in the army who knows something about cartographers in the war would be a good start."
"You going to have a word with Lord Julian?"
"He's my source for all things military. He can usually help me out, though I am sure he'll begin charging me soon."
"I always thought they were brave, them blokes who went out there surveying. Sappers, they were, like me, though they did a lot of work with the artillery-because without them, who would have known where to fire a gun? And then there was all that work with trench maps and what have you."
"Do you know anyone I could talk to?"
Billy shook his head and looked down at the list of names before him. "Nah, Miss. Them I've kept up with were like me, the ones out there laying wire, telephone lines and the like. I reckon I did most of my work underground-like a rat I was, tunneling away down there."
Maisie placed a call to Lord Julian Compton. Ten minutes after she replaced the receiver, the telephone rang and Lord Julian suggested Colonel John Bartley as the man who might be able to assist her in her inquiries.