Mad Hatter

slope, Prothero was joined in the field of view by a woman on horseback, quite probably the rider Moscrop had first seen on Fulking Hill. The doctor helped her dismount and then took her arm as they walked with the horse over the brow of the hill towards Saddlescombe.

So that was it. An assignation. It was too indiscreet now to meet on the promenade in front of Lewes Crescent, so they were using the Dyke for a rendezvous, going by separate routes in order not to arouse suspicion.

He lifted the binocular-strap over his head and clapped the glasses back into their case. An assignation. It was more than a little disappointing. He had been ready to take up the trail all the way to Dorking, through the night, if necessary. Now there was nothing to tell the police that they did not know already. They were not going to be interested where Prothero met his mistress.

Nor would he demean himself by following them any further. Their squalid embraces were beneath contempt.

He took out the map. There was an inn marked at the village of Poynings, down the hill. He would take the road that way and fortify himself with a lemon shandy. Perhaps two.

Some fifteen minutes later, as he passed down and among the trees, the sounds of late afternoon reasserted themselves after the rush of wind against his ears on the higher slopes. Sheep-bells chinked nearby with their flat, but comforting note, and from behind he heard hooves on the road, jarring heavily, taking the strain of horse and rider down the steep incline. Automatically, he moved to the verge and waited to let them pass. It was a lady rider, the same he had seen with Prothero. She was alone now. The sun from over her shoulder prevented him from seeing her face clearly, but as she approached she called out to him.

‘Good Lord, darling! What are you doing in this Godforsaken place? You ought to be on Brighton promenade.’

There was no mistaking the voice. The woman was Zena.

CHAPTER 13

‘You’ll pardon me if I continue with my supper?’ said Sergeant Cribb. ‘All I had today was something alleged to be a ploughman’s lunch. Ploughman! I wouldn’t have offered it to a jockey on Derby Day. What have you got to tell me this time, Mr. Moscrop?’

He was installed at a corner table in the bar-parlour of The Seven Stars in Ship Street, a pint of East India and a large meat pie in front of him.

‘I would not presume to disturb your meal if it were not a matter of paramount importance,’ Moscrop began. ‘You see, I have seen Mrs. Prothero!’

Cribb said nothing. His jaws continued to work at the meat pie.

‘Mrs. Prothero,’ repeated Moscrop with emphasis. ‘She was at the Devil’s Dyke this afternoon. I have come to you direct from seeing her.’

‘Have you now?’ said Cribb. ‘You’ll be hungry then. That’s no end of a walk. Would you like me to order a pie?’

‘Sergeant, I don’t know whether you heard. It was Mrs. Prothero, alive and well. There can be no mistake. I spoke to her myself.’

‘Did you, indeed?’ said Cribb. ‘You were luckier than I was, then. I went to Dorking on a similar mission.’

‘You? To Dorking? Do you mean that you knew she was alive?’

‘“Knew” is putting it a trifle strong, sir. One can never be sure if anyone is still on his feet in this uncertain life, but I had reason to believe she might be, yes. What was she doing on the Dyke-meeting Prothero?’

Moscrop regarded Cribb with the look clairvoyants like to see on the faces of their clients.

‘Perhaps you should give me your account of it,’ said Cribb, ‘beginning with your pursuit of Prothero-since I take it you didn’t climb the Downs for reasons of health.’

In diminished tones, Moscrop described the events culminating in the appearance of Zena Prothero.

‘She was surprised at seeing you, I expect?’ said Cribb.

‘No more than I was at seeing her. Sergeant, I was so sure that she was dead that I was quite unable to speak for several seconds. Then I managed to stammer something to the effect that I had been recommended to look at the view from the Dyke.’

‘Resourceful. Did you ask what she was doing?’

‘No need. She was quite candid, and not in the least embarrassed at meeting me. She has a rather individual turn of phrase, as I may have remarked-a tendency to address quite recent acquaintances in terms of endearment-‘

‘Really, sir? Perhaps you would give me an example.’

‘Darling.’

‘I beg your pardon.’

‘Darling. She calls everyone darling, or some equivalent phrase.’

‘A generous-hearted woman. And what was she doing on the Down?’

‘She made no bones about it. She had come to meet her husband.’

‘Ridden out from Dorking, d’you mean?’ said Cribb, in disbelief.

‘No, from Bramber, a railway station some six miles to the west of the Dyke. She had travelled there by train this morning and hired a horse to ride along the top of the Downs to meet Dr. Prothero.’

‘Who arranged this meeting?’

‘As I understand it, she did. She wrote to her husband explaining that young Jason had quite recovered from his indisposition-you will remember that it was because of this she took the child back to Dorking on Sunday-and that she wished to collect certain articles of dress she had left behind in her somewhat hurried departure. They were the contents of the knapsack he was carrying, you see.’

‘So he handed it over when they met?’ said Cribb.

‘Yes. It was attached to the horse when I saw her. She was planning to return to Bramber along the road, not wishing to ride over the Downs in failing light, so she took the road down to Poynings, and that was where she overtook me. We talked as I accompanied her down the hill.’

‘Did you tell her that you thought she was dead?’

‘Indeed, yes,’ said Moscrop earnestly. ‘I felt obliged to, having behaved towards her as if she were an apparition when she first greeted me. It was her so sudden departure from Brighton that misled me, and I told her so.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I am afraid that I told her something else, Sergeant.’

‘Oh. What was that?’

‘Something I now discover to be a misrepresentation of the truth. I told her that the police also believed her to have-er-joined the choir invisible.’

‘I’d call that jumping to conclusions, sir. What did she say to it?’

‘That she had no idea her innocent action had led to such complications. She at once entreated me to assure you that I had seen her and she was alive and perfectly well. She said-I think I can remember her words-that she could not bear to think of those poor pets of policemen running about Brighton like beavers because of her.’

‘Decent sentiment,’ said Cribb, with a sniff. ‘Did you ask her about the sealskin jacket we dug up?’

‘The jacket? Why, no,’ said Moscrop. ‘It wasn’t hers, was it? Your constable told me that all the buttons were in place. But I did succeed in convincing her that she had a public duty to present herself at a police station to show that she was alive. She said she would do better than that. She would come to Brighton again and meet you, since you are in charge of the inquiry.’

‘Good. That’ll save me from another ploughman’s lunch in Dorking. When’s she coming?’

‘Tomorrow morning. She was intending anyway to go on to Worthing tonight, where she has a sister, and return to Dorking tomorrow. At my suggestion she will take the first passenger-steamer tomorrow morning, and I very much hope that you will be able to meet the Brighton when it docks at the West Pier soon after ten o’clock. I must explain, though, that she is most particular about not being seen in conversation with you. She is anxious not to discommode her husband, you understand.’

‘Why should he feel discommoded if she talks to me?’ asked Cribb.