Had he come to understand the place?
‘Don’t buy that muck — try some of mine!’
He turned to find Blythely, of all people, standing just behind him. He was wearing his black shapeless suit and a cheap tie dragged out of shape — no concession, obviously, to the rising thermometer.
‘You don’t know what they put in them — a bit of horse, it wouldn’t surprise me. Mine are solid pork and a proper piece of pastry round it.’
‘I wasn’t thinking of buying any…’
‘I’ve been in touch with the bank.’
He made an awkward motion as though for Gently to accompany him, and without giving it a thought the man from the Central Office fell into step. Side by side, they made their way along the chequered pavements in the direction of Fenway Road.
‘It’ll be a takeover, won’t it?’
‘Undoubtedly the bank will have a major voice.’
‘I’ve put in an offer for it, lock, stock and barrel. I know what it’s worth down to the last farthing.’
‘You mean the bakehouse?’
‘No, the whole lot.’
What was the point of being surprised by anything Blythely did? To begin with, you wouldn’t have thought he had a penny with which to bless himself. And then again, looking at that porous, sallow face…
‘What about Fuller?’
‘He hasn’t got the money.’
‘You’ll turn him out?’
‘Why? He’s a tradesman.’
‘I was simply thinking…’
Surely Blythely must understand! Already it was bad enough while he was the miller’s subtenant — reverse the situation, and the thing became impossible.
Blythely, expressionless as always, was apparently refusing to see it.
‘He came to have a talk with me — I don’t know what it was all about!’
They were going round by Cosford Street, a way slightly longer than that by the Gardens and The Roebuck.
‘He’d got something worrying him, but I couldn’t get it clear. I told him to pray if he was in trouble. I doubt whether he did, but Godly advice is never wasted — his conscience seemed clearer after we had spoken together.’
The baker glanced sidelong at Gently as though to canvass his views. They had turned the corner near the crossroads and were approaching the passage to the drying-ground.
‘They tell me you’re a fisherman.’
Was there no fathoming the man?
‘If you want to know where to get some bream, just listen to what I say. A couple of hundred yards below the sluice — the one where they pulled the body out…
‘Get some groundbait from the mill and use a number twelve hook with a French float. Paste, mind you — I’ll give you a special loaf — and if you don’t pull a couple of stone out you can’t call yourself a fisherman.
‘On a good feeding day I’ve had four or five.’
‘Why not come along and show me?’
Gently halted at the top of the passage.
‘In the season we could make a day of it — I could give you a ring in advance.’
‘As a rule I fish alone…’
For once the baker was hesitant. To cover his indecision he pulled out his gold half-hunter and pretended to consult it.
‘I don’t know but what for once in a while…’
‘And while we’re at it, why not ask Fuller?’
Blythely’s foxy eyes jumped suddenly from the watch to Gently. For a long, long moment he seemed unable to drag them away.
‘Hmn — I’ll have to think about it… did you say you’d ring me?’
Gently nodded woodenly. It was his turn to lack expression.
