'Oh it does, Mrs Tommy, it does very much.' 'What about Mr Eccles?' Ivor smiled. 'I think,' he said, 'that retribution might be overtaking Mr Eccles shortly. Still, I wouldn't bank on it. He's a man who covers his tracks with incredible ingenuity. So much so, that one imagines that there aren't really any tracks at all.' He added thoughtfully under his breath, 'A great administrator.
A great planner.' 'Last night -' began Tuppence, and hesitated - 'Can I ask questions?' 'You can ask them,' Tommy told her. 'But don't bank on getting any satisfactory answers from old Ivor here.' 'Sir Philip Starke,' said Tuppence - 'Where does he come in? He doesn't seem to fit as a likely criminal - unless he was the kind that ' She stopped, hastily biting off a reference to Mrs Copleigh's wilder suppositions as to child murderers 'Sir Philip Starke comes in as a very valuable source of information,' said Ivor Smith. 'He's the biggest landovaaer in these parts - and in other parts of England as well.' 'In Cumberland?' Ivor Smith looked at Tuppence sharply. 'Cumberland?
Why do you mention Cumberland? What do you know about Cumberland, Mrs Tommy?' 'Nothing,' said Tuppence. 'For some reason or other it just came into my head.' She frowned and looked perplexed. 'And a red and white striped rose on the side of a house - one of those old-fashioned roses.' She shook her head.
'Does Sir Philip Starke own the Canal House?' 'He owns the land - He owns most of the land hereabouts.' 'Yes, he said so last night.' 'Through him, we've learned a good deal about leases and tenancies that have been cleverly obscured through legal complexities ' 'Those house agents I went to see in the Market Square - Is there something phony about them, or did I imagine it?' 'You didn't imagine it. We're going to pay them a visit this morning. We are going to ask some rather awkward questions.' 'Good,' said Tuppence.
'We're doing quite nicely. We've cleared up the big post office robbery of 1965, and the Albury Cross robberies, and the Irish Mail train bus'mess. We've found some of the loot. Clever places they manufactured in these houses. A new bath installed in one, a service flat made in another - a couple of its rooms a little smaller than they ought to have been thereby providing for an interesting recess. Oh yes, we've found out a great deal.' 'But what about the people?' said Tuppence. 'I mean the people who thought of it, or ran it - apart from Mr Eccles, I mean. There must have been others who knew something.' 'Oh yes. There were a couple of men - one who ran a night club, conveniently just off the M 1. Happy Hamish they used to call him. Slippery as an eel. And a woman they called Killer Kate - but that was a long time ago - one of our more interesting criminals. A beautiful girl, but her mental balance was doubtful. They eased her out - she might have become a danger to them. They were a strictly business concern - in it for loot - not for murder.' 'And was the Canal House one of their hideaway places?' 'At one time, Ladymead, they called it then. It's had a lot of different names in its time.' 'Just to make things more difficult, I suppose,' said Tuppence. 'Ladymead. I wonder if that ties up with some particular thing.' 'What should tie it up with?' 'Well, it doesn't really,' said Tuppence. 'It just started off another hare in my mind, if you know what I mean. The trouble is,' she added, 'I don't really know what I mean myself now. The picture, too. Boscowan painted the picture and then somebody else painted a boat into it, with a name on the boat ' 'Tiger Lily.' 'No, Waterlily. And his wife says that he didn't paint the b3at.' 'Would she know?' 'I expect she would. If you were married to a painter, and especially if you were an artist yourself, I think you'd know if it was a different style of painting. She's rather frightening, I think,' said Tuppence.
'Who - Mrs Boscowan?' 'Yes. If you know what I mean, powerful. Rather overwhelming.' 'Possibly. Yes.' 'She knows things,' said Tuppence, 'but I'm not sure that she knows them because she knows them, if you know what I mean.' 'I don't,' said Tommy fLrmly.
'Well, I mean, there's one way of knowing things. The other way is that you sort of feel them.' 'That's rather the way you go in for, Tuppence.' 'You can say what you like,' said Tuppence, apparently following her own track of thought, 'the whole thing ties up round Sutton Chancellor. Round Ladymead, or Canal House or whatever you like to call it. And all the people who lived there, now and in past times. Some things I think might go back a long way.' 'You're thinking of Mrs Copleigh.'
'On the whole,' said Tuppence, 'I think Mrs Copleigh just put in a lot of things which have made everything more difficult. I think she's got all her times and dates mixed up too.' 'People do/said Tommy, 'in the country.'
'I know that,' said Tuppence, 'I was brought up in a country vicarage, after all. They date things by events, they don't date them by years. They don't say "that happened in 1930" or "that happened in 1925" or things like that. They say "that happened the year after the old mill burned down" or "that happened after the lighrnin struck the big oak and killed Farmer Jmes" or "that was the year we had the polio epidemic". So naturally, of course, the things they do remember don't go in any particular sequence. Everything's very difficult,' she added. 'There are just bits poking up here and there, if you know what I mean. Of course the point is,' said Tuppence with the air of someone who suddenly makes an important discovery, 'the trouble is that I'm old myself.' 'You are eternally young,' said Ivor gallantly.
'Don't be daft,' said Tuppence, scathingly. I'm old because I remember things that same way. I've gone back to being primitive in my aids to memory.'
She got up and walked round the room.
'This is an annoying kind of hotel,' she said.
She went through the door into her bedroom and came back again shaking her head.
'No bible,' she said.
'Bible?'
'Yes. You know, in old-fashioned hotels, they've always got a Gideon bible by your bed. I suppose so that you can get saved any moment of the day or night. Well, they don't have that here.'
'Do you want a bible?'
'Well, I do rather. I was brought up properly and I used to know my bible quite well, as any good clergyman's daughter should. But now, you see, one rather forgets. Especially as they don't read the lessons properly any more in churches. They give you some new version where all the wording, I suppose, is technically right and a proper translation, but sounds nothing 2O5 like it used to. While you two go to the house agents, I shall drive into Sutton Chancellor,' she added.
'What for? I forbid you,' said Tommy.
'Nonsense - I'm not going to sleuth. I shall just go into the church and look at the Bible. If it's some modern version, I shall go and ask the vicar, he'll have a bible, won't he? The proper kind, I mean. Authorized Version.'
'What do you want the Authorized Version for?'
'I just want to refresh my memory over those words that were scratched on the child's tombstone... They interested me.'
'It's all very well - but I don't trust you, Tuppence - don't trust you not to get into trouble once you're out of my sight.'
'I give you my word I'm not going to prowl about in graveyards any more. The church on a sunny morning and the vicar's study - that's all - what could be more harmless?'
Tommy looked at his wife doubtfully and gave in. II Having left her car by the lychgate at Sutton Chancellor, Tuppence looked round her carefully before entering the church precincts. She had the natural distrust of one who has suffered grievous bodily harm in a certain geographical spot.
There did not on this occasion seem to be any possible assailants lurking behind the tombstones.
· She went into the church, where an el&fly woman was on her knees polishing some brasses. Tuppence tiptoed up to the lectern and ma& a tentative examination of the volume that rested there. The woman cleaning the brasses looked up with a disapproving glance.
'I'm not going to steal it,' said Tuppence reassuringly, and carefully closing it again, she tiptoed out of the church.
She would have liked to examine the spot where the recent excavations had taken place, but that she had undertaken on no account to do. 'Whosoever shall offend,' she murmured to herself. 'It might mean that, but if so it would have to be some
one ' She drove the car the short distance to the vicarage, got out and went up the path to the front door. She rang but could hear no tinkle from inside. 'Bell's broken, I expect,' said Tuppence, knowing the habits of vicarage bells. She pushed the door and it responded to her touch.
She stood inside in the hall. On the hall table a large envelope with a foreign stamp took up a good deal of space. It bore the printed legend of a Missionary Sodety in Africa.
'I'm glad I'm not a missionary,' thought Tuppence.
Behind that vague thought, there lay something else, something connected with some hall table somewhere, something that she ought to remember... Flowers? Leaves? Some letter or parcel?
At that moment the vicar came out from the door on the left.
'Oh,' he said. 'Do you want me? I - oh, it's Mrs Beresford, isn't it?' 'Quite right,' said Tuppence. 'What I really came to ask you was whether by any chance you had a bible.' 'Bible,' said the vicar, looking rather unexpectedly doubtful.
'A bible.' 'I thought it likely that you might have,' said Tuppence.
'Of course, of course,' said the vicar. 'As a matter of fact, I suppose I've got several. I've got a Greek Testament,' he said hopefully. 'That's not what you want, I suppose?' 'No,' said Tuppence. 'I want,' she said £mnly, 'the Authorized Version.' 'Oh dear,' said the vicar. 'Of course, there must be several in the house. Yes, several. We don't use that version in the church now, I'm sorry to say. One has to fall in with the bishop's ideas, you know and the bishop is very keen on modernization, for .young people and all that. A pity, I think. I have so many books m my library here that some of them, you know, get pushed behind the others. But I think I can f'md you what you want. I think so. If not, we'll ask Miss.Bligh. She's here somewhere looking out the vases for the children who arrange their wild flowers for the Children's Corner207 in the church.' He left Tuppence in the hall and went back into the room where he had come from.
Tuppence did not follow him. She remained in the hall, frowning and thinking. She looked up suddenly as the door at the end of the hall opened and Miss Bligh came through it. She was holding up a very heavy metal vase.
Several things ricked together in Tuppence's head.
'Of course,' said Tuppence, 'of course.' 'Oh, can I help - I - oh, it's Mrs Beresford.' 'Yes,' said Tuppence, and added, 'And it'sMrs.ohnson, isn't it?' The heavy vase fell to the floor. Tuppence stooped and picked it up. She stood weighing it in her hand. 'Quite a handy weapon,' she said. She put it down. 'Just the thing to cosh anyone with from behind,' she said - 'That's what you did to me, didn't you, Mrs ohnson.' 'I - I - what did you say? I - I - I never ' But Tuppence had no need to stay longer. She had seen the effect of her words. At the second mention of Mrs Johnson, Miss Bligh had given herself away in an unmistakable fashion.
She was shaking and panic-stricken.
'There was a letter on your hall table the other day,' said Tuppence, 'addressed to a Mrs Yorke at an address in Cumberland. That's where you took her, isn't it, Mrs Johnson, when you took her away from Sunny Ridge? That's where she is now. Mrs Yorke or Mrs Lancaster - you used either name -York and Lancaster like the striped red and white rose in the Perrys' garden ' She turned swiftly and went out of the house leaving Miss Bligh in the hall, still supporting herself on the stair rail, her mouth open, staring after her. Tuppence ran down the path to the gate, jumped into her car and drove away. She looked back towards the front door, but no one emerged. Tuppence drove past the church and back towards Market Basing, but suddenly changed her mind. She turned the car, drove back the way she had come, and took the left-hand road leading to the Canal House bridge. She abandoned the car, looked over the gate to see if either of the Perrys were in the garden, but there was no sign of them. She went through the gate and up the path to the back door. That was closed too and the windows were shut.
Tuppence felt annoyed. Perhaps Alice Perry had gone to Market Basing to shop. She particularly wanted to see Alice Perry. Tuppence knocked at the door, rapping fLrSt gently then loudly. Nobody answered. She turned the handle but the door did not give. It was locked. She stood there, undecided.
There were some questions she wanted badly to ask Alice Perry. Possibly Mrs Perry might be in Sutton Chancellor. She might go back there. The difficulty of Canal House was that there never seemed to be anyone in sight and hardly any traffic came over the bridge. There was no one to ask where the Perrys might be this morning.
CHAPTER 17 Mrs Lancaster
Tuppence stood there frowning, and then, suddenly, quite unexpectedly, the door opened. Tuppence drew back a step and gasped. The person confronting her was the last person in the world she expected to see. In the doorway, dressed exactly the same as she had been at Sunny Ridge, and smiling the same way with that air of vague amiability, was Mrs Lancaster in person.
'Oh,' said Tuppence.
'Good morning. Were you wanting Mrs Perry?' said Mrs Lancaster. 'It's market day, you know. So lucky I was able to let you in. I conlcln't fred the key for some time. I think it must be a duplicate anyway, don't you? But do come in. Perhaps you'd like a cup of tea or something.'
Like one in a dream, Tuppence crossed the threshold. Mrs
/ / Lancaster, still retaining the gracious air of a hostess, led Tuppence along into the sitting-room.
'Do sit down,' she said. 'I'm afraid I don't know where all the cups and things are. I've only been here a day or two. Now - let me see... But - surely - I've met you before, haven't I?' 'Yes,' said Tuppence, 'when you were at Sunny Ridge., 'Sunny Ridge, now Sunny Ridge. That seems to remind me of something. Oh, of course, dear Miss Packard. Yes, a very nice place.' 'You left it in rather a hurry, didn't you?' said Tuppence.
'People are so very bossy,' said Mrs Lancaster. 'They hurry you so. They don't give you time to arrange things or pack properly or anything. Kindly meant, I'm sure. Of course, I'm very fond of dear Nellie Bligh, but she's a very masterful kind of woman. I sometimes think,' Mrs Lancaster added, bending forward to Tuppence, 'I sometimes think, you know, that she is not quite -' she tapped her forehead significantly. 'Of course it does happen. Especially to spinsters. Unmarried women, you know. Very given to good works and all that but they take very odd fancies sometimes. Curates suffer a great deal. They seem to think sometimes, these women, that the curate has made · them an offer of marriage but really he never thought of doing anything of the kind. Oh yes, poor Nellie. So sensible in some ways. She's been wonderful in the parish here. And she was always a first-class secretary, I believe. But all the same'she has some very curious ideas at times. Like taking me away at a moment's notice from dear Sunny Ridge, and then up to Cumberland - a very bleak house, and, again quite suddenly, bringing me here ' 'Are you living here?' said Tuppence.
'Well, if you can call it that. It's a very peculiar arrangement altogether. I've only been here two days.' 'Before that, you were at Rosetrellis Court, in Cumberland ' 'Yes, I believe that was the name of it. Not such a pretty name as Sunny Ridge, do you think? In fact I never really settled down, if you know what I mean. And it wasn't nearly as well run. The service wasn't as good and they had a very inferior brand of coffee. Still, I was getting used to things and I had found one or two interesting acquaintances there. One of them who knew an aunt of mine quite well years ago in India.
It's so nice, you know, when you fred connections.'
'It must be,' said Tuppence.
Mrs Lancaster continued cheerfully.
'Now let me see, you came to Sunny Ridge, but not to stay, I think. I think you came to see one of the guests there.'
'My husband's aunt,' said Tuppence, 'Miss Fanshawe.'
'Oh yes. Yes of course. I remember now. And wasn't there something about a child of yours behind the chimney piece?' 'No,' said Tuppence, 'no, it wasn't my child.'
'But that's why you've come here, isn't it? They've had trouble with a chimney here. A bird got into it, I understand.
This place wants repairing. I don't like being here at a/1. No, not at all and I shall tell Nellie so
as soon as I see her.' 'You're lodgifng with Mrs Perry?'
'Well, in a way I am, and in a way I'm not. I think I could trust you with a secret, couldn't I?'
'Oh yes,' said Tuppence, 'you can umst me.'
'Well, I'm not really here at all. I mean not in this pan of the house. This is the Perrys' pan of the house.' She leaned forward. 'There's another one, you know, if you go upstairs.
Come with me. I'll take you.'
Tuppence rose. She felt that she was in rather a crazy kind of dream.
'I'll just lock the door first, it's safer,' i'd Mrs Lancaster.
She led Tuppence up a rather narrow staircase to the first floor. She took her through a double bedroom with signs of occupation - presumably the Perrys' room - and through a door leading out of that into another room next door. It contained a washstand and a tall wardrobe of maple wood.
Nothing else. Mrs Lancaster went to the maple wardrobe, fumbled at the back of it, then with sudden ease pushed it aside. There seemed to be castors on the wardrobe and it rolled out from the wall easily enough. Behind the wardrobe there was, rather strangely, Tuppence thought, a grate. Over the mantelpiece there was a mirror with a small shelf under the mirror on which were china figures of birds.