Mad Hatter

‘Yes. I explained that it was chloral hydrate she had been taking, and quite harmless. Then we were interrupted by the fireworks, I recall.’

‘Ah yes. The night of the regiment’s home-coming. There was a crowd to watch, I expect?’

‘One soon materialised, Sergeant. People came from the hotels and lodging-houses and down the Old Steine to watch. Many were watching from the hotel balconies, young Guy Prothero included.’

‘Not his stepmother, though.’

‘No. She may have been watching from inside, however. Soon after that, Bridget left me to rejoin her and I made my way back along the front towards my lodgings.’

‘You didn’t stop to see the end of the fireworks, sir?’

‘Pyrotechnics do not impress me over-much, Sergeant.’

‘Nor me, sir. What time was it that you started your walk back?’

‘About half past nine, I would estimate.’

‘And when did you get back?’

‘Oh, I cannot remember. Perhaps an hour later. I was in no hurry.’

‘Possibly your landlady would recall?’

‘Perhaps. No, I don’t believe I saw her. I let myself in. I have a key, you know. Why are you interested?’

‘I must get my times straight, sir. Sometimes it’s crucial in a case like this, you know.’ Cribb spoke with the air of a man imparting official secrets. ‘A level-headed witness such as yourself can make all the difference when we’re obliged to give evidence in court. There’s a lot of reliance placed on times.’

‘I’m quite sure.’

‘Anyway, sir, you got back to the lodgings and went to bed. What happened next day?’

‘It was Sunday, Sergeant. I went to church. I did not see the Protheros all day. I rather hoped that they might promenade or join the carriage parade after church, but I saw nothing of them. Nor was Zena-Mrs. Prothero, I should say-in her usual place on the beach the following day, although the weather was ideal. I did see the doctor on Monday, however, and in compromising circumstances which seemed not to perturb him one whit.’

‘Really, sir? What was he doing?’

‘Taking lunch at Mutton’s with Miss Floyd-Whittingham, the young woman with copper-coloured hair. Afterwards they walked along the front to Lewes Crescent. Sergeant, they were arm in arm! It was as though he already knew- what we now know.’

‘And you’ve seen him since then?’

‘Several times. Twice with the young woman. Did you know that she is said to be a colonel’s daughter? I would hazard that he spends each afternoon with her. His routine is inflexible, if my observations mean anything. He rises late, bathes at Brill’s, has lunch at Mutton’s or the Aquarium and then walks along the upper promenande to Lewes Crescent. Sometimes his son, Guy, has lunch with him.’

‘What does the boy do with himself for the rest of the day?’

‘He bicycles a good deal, and bathes.’

‘What about the second son-the child?’

‘Jason? I have seen nothing of him or his nursemaid since Saturday. Good God, Sergeant, the most appalling thought has occurred to me. You don’t think-‘

‘No, sir, I don’t. Not when I’m on a job like this. I just leave every possibility open. They could have been sent back to Dorking. One thing’s certain-if you haven’t seen ’em in four days they ain’t in circulation here, we can depend upon it.’

He took the emphasis for a compliment. ‘There isn’t much that I miss, Sergeant. I shall naturally communicate everything else of significance that I observe. Dr. Prothero is still in ignorance of who I am, you see. My services as an observer are at Scotland Yard’s disposal.’

Cribb coughed. ‘Much appreciated, Mr. Moscrop, much appreciated. Now that you’ve given us this information, however, I think you’re entitled to enjoy the rest of your holiday and leave the investigations to us. I’ll get a statement of what you’ve told us neatly written out and I’d be obliged if you’d call in tomorrow to put your signature to it. Lovely sunshine outside, sir. Pleasant afternoon for a dip.’

CHAPTER 11

The incident in Brill’s next morning was so alien to the good-humoured atmosphere traditionally engendered in swimming baths for gentlemen that everyone was caught unawares. Several patrons whose sorties from the side had them facing the wrong direction at the crucial moment frankly refused to believe that it had happened. Its onset was unimaginably sudden: a thrashing of water sufficient to suggest that a harpoonist had scored a hit near the centre of the pool, a frantic striking for the side, a cascading emergence of Dr. Prothero on the tiled surround, and an outraged challenge to the man standing in front of his changing-cubicle, ‘That is my towel you are holding, sir!’

The defaulter, tall, sharp of feature, with a waspish look about him, not unconnected with the colours of his costume, said, ‘No, sir. It is mine.’

‘Good God!’ said Prothero. ‘I know my own towel. Return it to me at once, sir!’

The other unconcernedly applied the towel to his left arm-pit. ‘You’re mistaken. This is mine. I left it hanging over the cubicle door.’

Plainly shaken by the confidence of the performance, Prothero looked to right and left to get his bearings. ‘But this is my cubicle and my green and white towel.’

‘Perhaps your memory is at fault. Look around you. There are at least a dozen towels hanging over doors.’

‘But none of them is green and white!’ said Prothero, just refraining from stamping a bare foot.

‘Exactly. You must have brought one of another colour with you. Easy to make mistakes about such unimportant things.’

Prothero stood like Alice in the presence of the Mad Hatter.

‘If someone has taken yours,’ the other advised him, ‘we should tell the attendant. I could lend you this one, of course, but it’s rather wet. Don’t stand there getting cold. Walk around the edge of the pool at a sharp step and you’ll be dry in no time. When I’m dressed I’ll speak to the attendant for you. Things like this shouldn’t be allowed to happen.’ He towelled his hair vigorously. ‘I don’t know what Brill’s is coming to when a man can’t leave his towel hanging over a door without some scoundrel helping himself to it.’

‘Would you believe me if my clothes were in the cubicle?’ Prothero appealed. ‘A silk hat and a frock- coat?’

‘That’s not all, I trust,’ said the man with the towel, ‘or you will feel a draught. Certainly have a look. We’re all liable to make mistakes. The door’s unbolted, you see. . Oh, my stars!’

‘There!’ said Prothero, vindicated by the contents of the cubicle. ‘Now perhaps you will kindly return my towel.’ The satisfaction of confounding such arrant self-righteousness quite made up for the state of the towel.

‘How can I begin to apologise?’ said the other. ‘My own towel must have been taken-or did I leave it inside the cubicle? Good Lord, sir, I’m cut to the quick. Mortified with shame. It must be the circular shape of the building, you see. Lost my bearings.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Prothero loftily.

‘But it does. The things I said. You must allow me to stand you a meal. If you don’t, I shall never be able to hold my head up again.’

‘It isn’t necessary.’

‘My name’s Cribb. Shall we go to Mutton’s?’

‘Prothero-Dr. Prothero. There is really no need-‘ ‘I’ll find my cubicle and see you in a few minutes. The least I can do.’

So Sergeant Cribb presently sat with the doctor at a central table in Mutton’s main dining-room, a monument to the glazier’s craft, with mirrors along every wall, a domed skylight and chandelier above them and statuettes and wax flowers encased in glass on a buhl cabinet at one end. A third place was reserved for Prothero’s son, after the