Mr. Blundell shook his head.
“But there’s that two hundred pounds,” he said.
“So there is, but that was after Legros had started.”
“And when Legros was killed, the money was returned to the bank.”
“Was it?”
“Oh, yes. I had a word with Thoday. He made no difficulties. He said he had an idea of purchasing a bit of land and starting to farm again on his own, but that, after his illness, he gave up the idea, thinking that for some time he wouldn’t be strong enough. He gave me permission to go over his bank account. It was all in order — no suspicious withdrawals of money up to that £200 on December 3ist, and that was paid in again in January, as soon as he was able to get about. And it’s true about the land, too. He did think of buying it. All the same, £200 all in one-pound notes—”
The Superintendent broke off, and made a sudden dive behind a tall tombstone. There was a squeak and a scuffle. Mr. Blundell emerged, rather flustered. His large hand held Potty Peake’s coat-collar in a firm grip.
“Now, you clear off,” said the Superintendent, giving his captive a rough, but not unkindly, shake. “You’ll get yourself into trouble, my lad, hanging round the churchyard and listening to private conversations. See?”
“Ar!” said Potty, “you needn’t choke a fellow. You needn’t choke poor Potty. If you knowed what Potty knows—”
“What do you know?”
Potty’s eyes gleamed cunningly. “I seen him — Number Nine — I seen him a-talking to Will in the church. But the Tailors was too much for him. Him with the rope — he got him, and he’ll get you too. Potty knows. Potty ain’t lived all these years, in and out of the church, for nothing.”
“Who was talking to Will in the church?”
“Why, him!” Potty jerked his head towards the Thorpe grave. “Him they found over there. The black-bearded man. There’s eight in the belfry and one in the grave. That makes nine. You think Potty can’t count, but he can. But him as calls the peal — you won’t get him, oh, no!”
“See here,” said Wimsey, “you’re a clever fellow, Potty. When did you see Will Thoday talking to the black-bearded man? See if you can count that far.”
Potty Peake grinned at him. “Potty can count all right,” he said, with great satisfaction. “Oh, yes.” He began an elaborate calculation on his fingers. “Ah! it was a Monday night, that’s when it was. There was cold pork and beans for dinner — that’s good, cold pork and beans. Ah! Parson he preached about thankfulness. Be thankful for Christmas, he says. There was roast fowl, Christmas Day and boiled pork and greens Sunday and be thankful, that’s what Parson says. So Potty slips out at night, for to be thankful again. You got to go to church to be thankful proper, ain’t you, sir? And there was the church door standing open. So Potty creeps in, careful-like, see? And there’s a light in the vestry. Potty was frightened. There’s things hanging in the vestry. Ah! So Potty hides behind ole Batty Thomas, and then Will Thoday comes in, and Potty hears them talking in the vestry. ‘Money,’ Will says. ’Tis a great wickedness, is money. And then Will Thoday he cries out — he fetches a rope from the chest and — Ah! Potty’s afraid. He thinks about hanging. Potty don’t want to see no one hanged. Potty runs away. He looks in at the vestry window, and there’s the black-bearded man a-laying on the floor, and Will a-standing over him with the rope. Ah, dear! oh, dear! Potty don’t like ropes. Potty’s allus a-dreamin’ of ropes. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight — and this one’s nine. Potty seen him a-hangin’ there. Ooh!”
“I think you was a-dreaming all the time,” said the Superintendent. “There’s nobody been hanged that I know of.”
“I see him a-hanging,” persisted Potty. “Terrible it were. But don’t you pay no attention. ’Tis only one o’ poor Potty’s dreams.” His face changed. “You lemme go, mister. I gotter feed my pigs.”
“Bless my heart,” said Superintendent Blundell. “And what do you suppose we’re to make of that?”
Wimsey shook his head. “I think he saw something — or how did he know that the rope was gone from the cope-chest? But as for hanging, no! He’s crazed about hanging. Got a hanging complex, or whatever they call it. The man wasn’t hanged. Which Monday night do you suppose Potty meant?”
“Can’t be January 6th, can it?” said the Superintendent. “The body was buried on the 4th, as far as we can make out. And it can’t very well be December 30th, because Legros only got here on January 1st — if that was Legros you saw. And besides, I can’t make out whether he means Sunday or Monday, with his boiled pork.”
“I can,” said Wimsey. “He had boiled pork and greens on Sunday, and Parson told him to be thankful and so he was. And on Monday, he had the pork cold with beans — probably the tinned variety if I know the modern countrywoman — and he felt thankful again. So he went down to the church to be thankful in the proper place. It would be some time in the evening, as there was a light in the vestry.”
“That’s right. Potty lives with an aunt of his — a decent old soul, but not very sharp. He’s always slipping out at night. They’re cunning as the devil, these naturals. But which evening was it?”
“The day after Parson had preached on thankfulness,” said Wimsey. “Thankfulness for Christmas. That looks like December 30th. Why not? You don’t know that Legros didn’t get here before January 1st. That’s when Cranton got here.”
“But I thought we’d washed Cranton out of it,” objected Mr. Blundell, “and put Will Thoday in his place.”
“Then who was it I met on the road over the bridge?”
“That must have been Legros.”
“Well, it may be — though I still think it was Cranton, or his twin-brother. But if I met Legros on January 1st, he can’t have been hanged by Will Thoday on December 30th. And in any case, he wasn’t hanged. And,” said Wimsey, triumphantly, “we still don’t know how he did die!”
The Superintendent groaned. “What I say is, we’ve got to find Cranton, anyhow. And as for December 30th, how are you going to be sure of that, anyway?”
“I shall ask the Rector which day he preached about thankfulness. Or Mrs. Venables. She’s more likely to know.”
“And I’d better see Thoday again. Not that I believe a single word Potty says. And how about Jim Thoday? How does he come into it now?”
“I don’t know. But one thing I’m sure of. Super. It was no sailor put those knots into Gaude’s rope. I’ll take my oath on that.”
“Oh, well!” said the Superintendent.
* * *
Wimsey went back to the house and found the Rector in his study, busily writing out a touch of Treble Bob Major.
“One moment, my dear boy,” he said, pushing the tobacco-jar towards his guest, “one moment. I am just pricking this little touch to show Wally Pratt how to do it. He has got himself ‘imbrangled’ as they call it — fine old English word, that. Now what has the foolish lad done here? The ninth lead should bring Queen’s change — let me see, let me see—51732468, 15734286—that’s the first thirds and fourths all right—51372468, 15374286—and that’s the first fourths and thirds—13547826—Ah! here is the trouble! The eighth should be at home. What has happened? — To be sure! What a beetle-headed cuckoo I am! He has forgotten to make the bob. She can’t come home till she’s called.” He ran a red-ink line down the page and started to write figures furiously. “There! 51372468, 15374286 and now she comes home like a bird! — 13572468. That’s better. Now it should come round at the second repeat. I will just check it. Second to fifth, third to second — yes, yes — that brings 15263748, with Tittums at the end of the second course, and repeated once again brings it round. I will just jot down the lead-ends for him to check it by. Second to third, third to fifth, fourth to second, fifth to seventh, sixth to fourth, seventh to eighth, eighth to sixth for the plain lead. Then the bob. Plain, bob, bob, three plain and a bob. I cannot understand why red ink should distribute itself so lavishly over one’s person. There! I have a large smear on my cuff! Call her in the middle, in and out and home. Repeat twice. A lovely little touch.” He pushed aside several sheets of paper covered with figures, and transferred a quantity of red ink from his fingers to his trouser-legs. “And now, how are you getting along? Is there anything I can do to help you?”