The Weed That Strings the Hangman's Bag

Cynthia--Mrs. Richardson, I mean--had somehow got the idea that there was more in your meetings with Grace Ingleby than met the eye. That's why you've recently been keeping your visits secret.'

'I'm not really at liberty to discuss that,' the vicar said. 'The wearing of the dog collar puts paid to any tendency one has to be a chatterbox. But I must put in, in her defense, that Cynthia is very loyal. Her life is not always an easy one.'

'Nor is Grace Ingleby's,' I pointed out.

'No, nor is Grace's.'

'At any rate,' I went on, 'Meg lives in an old shack, somewhere in the depths of Gibbet Wood. She doesn't miss much that goes on there.'

Or anywhere else, I wanted to add. It had only just occurred to me that it was almost certainly Meg that Rupert and Nialla had heard prowling round near their tent in the churchyard.

'She saw you taking your trousers off beside the old gallows at the very spot where she had seen Robin hanging. That's why she drew you into her picture.'

'I see,' said the vicar. 'At least, I think I see.'

'Meg picked up your trouser clip in the road, meaning to use it for one of those dangling sculpture things of hers, but she recognized it as yours, and--'

'It has my initials on it,' the vicar said. 'Cynthia scratched them on.'

'Meg can't read,' I said, 'but she's very observant. Look at the detail in her drawing. She even remembered the little Church of England pin in your lapel.'

'Good heavens,' the vicar said, coming round to peer over Inspector Hewitt's shoulder. 'So she did.'

'She came here on Saturday afternoon to return the trouser clip, and while she was looking for you, she happened to wander into the parish hall during Rupert's performance. When she saw the shrunken Robin on the stage, she went into a right old squiff. You and Nialla carried her off to the vicarage and tucked her in on your couch in the study. That's when the clip--and Nialla's compact--fell out of her pocket. I found the compact on the floor behind the couch the next day. I didn't find the bicycle clip because Grace Ingleby had already picked it up the day before.'

'Hold on,' the Inspector said. 'No one's claiming to have seen Mrs. Ingleby anywhere near the vicarage--or the parish hall--on Saturday afternoon.'

'Nor did they,' I said. 'What they did say was that the egg lady had been there.'

Had Inspector Hewitt been the sort of man whose mouth was prone to falling open when astonished, he'd have been gaping like a gargoyle.

'Good Lord,' he said flatly. 'Who told you that?'

'Mrs. Roberts and Miss Roper,' I said. 'They were in the vicarage kitchen after church yesterday. I assumed you had questioned them.'

'I believe we did,' Inspector Hewitt said, cocking an eyebrow at Sergeant Graves, who flipped back through the pages of his notebook.

'Yes, sir,' said Sergeant Graves. 'They both gave in statements, but there was nothing said about egg ladies.'

'The egg lady was Grace Ingleby, of course,' I said helpfully. 'She came down from Culverhouse Farm late on Saturday afternoon with eggs for the vicarage. There was no one else around. Something made her go into the vicar's study. Perhaps she heard Meg snoring, I don't know. But she found the bicycle clip on the floor, picked it up, and pocketed it.'

'How can you be so sure?' asked Inspector Hewitt.

'I can't be sure,' I said. 'What I can be sure of, because he told me so, is that the vicar lost his bicycle clip last Thursday ...'

The vicar nodded in agreement.

'... on the road at Gibbet Hill ... and that you and I, Inspector, found it on Sunday morning clamped to the rail of the puppet theater. The rest is mere guesswork.'

The Inspector scratched at his nose, made another note, and looked up at me as if he had been shortchanged.

'Which brings us neatly back to Rupert Porson,' he said.

'Yes,' I replied. 'Which brings us neatly back to Rupert Porson.'

'About whom you are about to enlighten us.'

I ignored his twitting and went on. 'Grace had known Rupert for years. Perhaps since even before she met Gordon. For all I know, she might even have traveled with him at one time as his assistant.'

I knew by the sudden closed look on Inspector Hewitt's face that I had hit the nail on the head. Bravo, Flavia! I thought. Go to the head of the class!

There were times when I surprised even myself.

'And even if she hadn't,' I added, 'she'd certainly attended some of the shows he put on round the countryside. She'd have paid particular attention to the electrical rigging. Since Rupert manufactured all of his own lighting equipment, I can hardly believe that he wouldn't have taken the opportunity to show off the details to a fellow electrician. He was rather vain about his skills, you know.

'I expect Grace took the keys from the vicarage and walked straightaway through the churchyard, to the parish hall. The afternoon performance was over by that time; the audience had gone, and so had Rupert. There was little chance of her being seen. Even if she had been spotted, no one would have paid her the slightest attention, would