Death of a Delft Blue

Laura made haste to contact Dame Beatrice, who told her to stay in Amsterdam where she would join her on the following day.

‘I think Sweyn knows something,’ said Laura, when they met. ‘All that guff about Saxon crosses in Derbyshire is so much mashed potato, you know.’

‘You surmise that these Saxon crosses do not exist?’

‘Oh, I’m quite sure they do, but why should he be so anxious to refer to them and to advise me so strongly to go and see them?’

‘You have led him to believe that you are interested in rune-stones.’

‘Yes, but Saxon crosses don’t bear much resemblance to rune-stones, except that lots of rune-stones have a religious bias, and can be found in churchyards. No, he was giving me a broad hint. I want to know why.’

‘We could go to Derbyshire and find out, child.’

‘I hoped you’d say that. Of course, my hunch may be quite wrong. I may be taking you on a wild-goose chase.’

‘I have great faith in your hunches. Purchase steamer tickets. By tomorrow night, at the latest, we can be back in London. There you shall hie you to a public library and read all about Derbyshire, a county of great charm and with some delightful natural scenery, and one with which I have only the most superficial acquaintance. Indeed, except for a tea once in Glossop and a lunch, on another occasion, in Matlock Bath, I know nothing about it at all.’

‘Read up all I can find about Derbyshire? A job after my own heart,’ said Laura. ‘You shall know the county from A to Z by the time I’ve finished.’

What she came up with at the end of her researches was of significant interest. Dame Beatrice listened as, after dinner, Laura read her notes aloud.

‘Most interesting stuff,’ she said, before she began her recital, ‘and, if Florian was really keen on caves and holes and things, definitely germane to the issue.’

She proceeded to describe deep fissures, eerie caverns, abandoned lead mines, underground lakes, stalactites and mysterious streams.

‘You will enjoy yourself,’ said Dame Beatrice, at the end of the recital.

‘You’re not thinking of coming with me, then?’

‘No, I have decided that my work lies in North Norfolk, and that, in any case, you will be happier without me. I should be very much obliged, though, if you would take a companion. Can you think of anyone who might like to go?’

‘Most people, I suppose, are otherwise engaged at this time of year. Old Kitty wouldn’t be any good at pot- holing, and it’s the wrong time of year for Alice — bang between her summer holiday and the break at half- term.’

‘Suppose I could arrange for our dear Robert to accompany you, would you like that?’

‘Gavin?’ said Laura, referring to her husband, as usual, by his surname. ‘Could you really wangle it?’

‘I could try.’

As Dame Beatrice’s infrequent but powerful representations to the Home Office or to New Scotland Yard invariably received respectful attention, Laura had little doubt of the result of this one. Her confidence in her employer was justified. Detective Chief-Inspector Robert Gavin presented himself at Dame Beatrice’s Kensington house and reported for special duty.

‘And what’s it in aid of, Dame B.?’ he enquired, after giving her an affectionate kiss. ‘They didn’t seem too sure what you wanted me for, when they told me you’d asked for me. Something to do with those Dutch people you and Laura have been seeing so much of lately?’

‘Possibly. I want you and Laura to go to Derbyshire.’

‘That sounds within our scope. What do we do when we get there?’

‘Laura will brief you. I don’t know how long you will need to stay, but, at any rate, you have been lent to me for at least a week, so Laura will arrange hotel accommodation for a week and then you can see how you get on. I want to write up some case notes, so I’ll leave you together to make your plans.’

‘Where shall I try to book us in?’ asked Laura, when Dame Beatrice had gone.

‘Don’t know. What have you found out so far? Is it a murder hunt? Dame B. seems to have hinted as much to the Assistant Commissioner.’

‘Well, it’s a common or garden disappearance, on the face of it, but some of the relatives don’t seem too happy about it, and Mrs Croc. has been asked to trace the missing youth. We went over to Holland, as that’s where he was last heard of, but there I was given what I regarded as a tip-off that he might be in Derbyshire.’

‘Who tipped you off?’

‘The younger uncle, Professor Sweyn van Zestien.’

‘Oh, the chap who collects rune-stones. You mentioned him and his brother in your letters. What’s he like?’

‘If you mean to ask whether he’s engaged in any funny business, I can only say that, in my opinion, nothing is less likely. He’s got his suspicions, though, and so has Professor Derde van Zestien, his elder brother. I’m bound to admit that it’s all rather odd and, to my mind, very hole and corner. This missing boy’s grandmother and his two maiden aunts had set their hearts on having a bronze bust of him and a painting of his lilywhite paw clutching a blue hyacinth, the hyacinth (according to them) being the same colour as his eyes.’

‘Good Lord! Spare us from our female relatives! What revolting ideas women have! Colour of his eyes, indeed!’