the rent for the bakehouse. Somehow, leaning over me… after I kissed her she cried, and I knew how badly…’
‘How long has it gone on?’
‘A couple of months — three, maybe.’
‘And you always used the hayloft?’
‘No! That was the first time we’d ever…’
The first time, and the poor fool had to get caught up in a homicide affair! In a grim sort of way, there was something humorous about it. Fuller had the makings of a man to whom bad luck came naturally.
‘You’d best tell your wife. It’ll probably have to come out.’
‘My wife… it’ll kill her!’
‘Don’t be so conceited! Wives sometimes surprise one.’
‘You don’t understand…’
They were back to it again.
A lorry came into the yard, backing and turning to get by Gently’s awkwardly parked Wolseley. The driver came running to knock on the door, but Fuller made no attempt to unbolt and let him in.
‘You think you can go against them…’
The lorry-driver, no doubt cursing, had given up his quest and retired.
‘It seems easy, but even if nobody knows…’
‘You have to live by the laws of the society that accepts you.’
Fuller looked up at him quickly, his dark eyes surprised. At that moment the naphtha engine coughed to a standstill, making a sudden silence in the twilit room. Just then there was only the sound of the rain.
‘Now suppose you tell me what happened from the time you left the Spreadeagle?’
Boiled down it was less, very much less than Gently had hoped for. It seemed hardly possible that the miller could have been on the spot and seen so little. He had slipped away from the Spreadeagle in time to meet Mrs Blythely at half past eleven. The rendezvous had been at the stable door. On his way thither he had apparently noticed nothing, except that it was a cool evening and that road traffic had been light. He could remember no cars parked near the entry in Cosford Street.
‘It was a clear night but no moon. You couldn’t see a great deal once you got into the drying-ground. Clara was already there waiting for me, a coat over her nightdress. As you might suppose, we didn’t waste a lot of time.’
‘Are you absolutely certain you didn’t see or hear somebody? Remember that Blythely wasn’t far away, and presumably Blacker was in the offing.’
Fuller’s head drooped wretchedly, but now he was almost eager in his desire to help.
‘In the circumstances, one… after kissing her we went straight up. I’m pretty sure I didn’t notice anything. Clara… she had a lot of time to make up!’
‘What time did you leave?’
‘We had an hour together.’
‘And as you were coming away?’
‘I’m sorry… all I was thinking about…’
One thing only was clear as daylight. Blacker had been in the yard and witnessed the rendezvous. In the morning he tackled Fuller in his office. He made no bones about what he was after.
‘He’d seen us together — must have done some eavesdropping. Anyway, he’d known beforehand and decided to watch. I wanted to knock him down, but God! what could I do? To give me time to think I made him foreman as he asked me.’
‘He threatened to tell your wife?’
‘Her, and Blythely.’
‘Coming from a source like that…’
‘It was true, and I couldn’t have faced it out.’
‘Again, you could have come to us.’
The miller made a despairing gesture.
‘Anyway, I didn’t have the time… and when I realized my position
…!’
Gently nodded without pressing the point. There were limits in the pursuit of wisdom. He poured out the last of the coffee into their respective cups and tossed his off in several large mouthfuls.
‘And now you know that Blythely knows?’
‘It’s — it’s an impossible situation!’
‘You can’t just cut and run. You’ll have to go and have it out with him.’
‘But if you only knew the man! It’s impossible to talk to him. He’ll probably pretend he doesn’t know what I mean, but all the time he’ll use it as a lever… he just builds things up. I know how it will be.’
‘Nevertheless, you’ve got to be neighbours.’ Gently reached for his raincoat and began to put it on. ‘And I’ll let you into a secret. I’ve been giving him a lot of thought. He’s the loneliest man in Lynton… just put that up your sleeve! If he doesn’t want to forgive it’s because he’s desperate for a tie with someone.’
And he shoved out into the rain before the miller could ask him questions.
Outside he came to a halt, realizing that he wanted to use a phone. There was one in the office, of course, but after having made such a satisfactory exit… instead, he plodded across the road to the call box beside the cafe.
‘Chief Inspector Gently — anything for me yet?’
He had lost count of the times he had put the same question since breakfast that morning.
‘Yes, sir. We’ve found out the place.’
‘What?’
‘The place where Roscoe and Ames were staying. It was a pub at Strangemere, about eighteen miles away. But I’m afraid the chummy got out ahead of us, sir.’
Gently sighed softly and eased his shoulders into a good functional position with the glass panels of the call box. On the whole, he hadn’t been expecting too much!
‘Give me the details.’
They were few and unsensational. At Strangemere, apparently, a bird sanctuary attracted visitors, and occasional enthusiasts were found staying in the village. Roscoe had had the wit to take advantage of this circumstance. He had represented himself and Ames as London bird-lovers on vacation. Dressed in tweeds and equipped with binoculars, they had occasioned no attention; it was late in the day before the local bobby realized that he too had been fraternizing with a pair of rare birds…
‘Arrived there on Friday, did they?’
‘Yes, sir, driven in by a hire car.’
‘Did they have any visitors?’
‘No, sir, not as far as we know. But Roscoe had a letter yesterday with a Lynton postmark.’
‘What happened last night?’
‘Ames went off on the bus, sir. Roscoe said he might be late back and stayed up waiting for him. In the morning Roscoe packed his bags and went off in a hire car from the village. He left a message behind as though Ames would be coming back during the day, then later on the publican got a telegram asking him to forward Ames’s luggage to an address in Stepney.’
Gently clicked his tongue. ‘That was all very elaborate! And I suppose you discovered where the hire car took him?’
‘To Ely station, sir.’
‘Yes… that was inevitable. And then after that?’
‘I’m sorry, sir, but Ely can’t trace him.’
Gently sighed again. This was where he’d come in — with the solitary difference that now it was one man going the rounds! He riffled the edges of the phone book with a fretful finger. One left out of the three who knew all the answers…
‘Listen — I want a search warrant for these two addresses. I’ll be in to collect it as soon as it’s signed.’
Outside a green Bentley had just stormed past into town — Pershore going to blow up the super, without doubt. Between the doors of the engine-room one could barely make out a face. As it felt Gently’s eye on it, it
