interested to go by way of Brockenhurst and the Stone House and call on Dame Beatrice instead of going straight back to the police station.
‘A pleasant surprise, Detective-Inspector,’ she said. ‘Do you bring news?’
‘Only of a negative nature, ma’am. That is to say there is no doubt those two lads have been in Southampton, but whether they are still there I have to leave to the locals to find out. It’s a big place and there doesn’t seem any particular line to go on. However, if they are still in the city, no doubt they’ll be winkled out in time. I really came about another matter. May I ask what you know about art, ma’am?’
‘Nothing at all, in the technical sense, Mr Routh. I resemble the honest British working man in the cartoon — I know what I like, and that is all.’
Routh took from his breast pocket the letter which Pythias had written to Mrs Buxton. He was not a superstitious man in the ordinary course of events, but he carried the letter with him as a sort of talisman. He had a feeling that, in time, the letter would lead him to Pythias’s murderer.
‘I’m not sure whether I ever showed you this, ma’am,’ he said, handing over the letter. ‘The writing doesn’t signify anything except that it wasn’t the writer who sent back those cheques. It’s the little sketch on the back.’
‘Yes, you did show it to me on one occasion,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘A very sensitive and evocative little drawing, is it not? So Mr Pythias was an artist as well as a geographer. But it is clear that the sketch has other importance.’
‘It may have, or it may not, ma’am. I was in Southampton to make a few enquiries when I passed an art dealer’s, and there in the middle of the window was a painting which I could swear was done by the same hand as this little sketch.’
‘I suppose Mr Pythias sold his pictures when he could find a purchaser.’
‘Ah, but the picture in the window and the exhibition of pictures which the shop was advertising had nothing to do with Mr Pythias, it seems. The notice credited the works to Mr Pybus.’
‘And who is Mr Pybus?’
‘He’s the art master at the Sir George Etherege school, ma’am. I’ve interviewed all the staff there since Mr Pythias went missing, and this Mr Pybus was one of them. I recollect him particularly because of his name, it being in some respects a bit like Pythias.’
‘So you want somebody to go along to this shop, visit the exhibition and confirm your suspicions that the paintings on view are the work of Mr Pythias, not of Mr Pybus. You would be wiser to consult an expert on the subject.’
‘I’d like a bit of backing-up before I do that, ma’am.’
‘Well, it sounds an attractive assignment and if, in carrying it out, Laura and I find any trace of the missing boys, I will let you know.’
15
The Runaways
« ^ »
Let’s have another look at that letter,’ said Maycock. The boys had returned from the caravan holiday on the Friday before school re-opened on the Monday, and the letter had been lying on the front-door mat. Mr Travis was still at work and his wife, having picked up the letter and looked at the envelope, said, ‘Oh, no stamp. It’s for you from one of your schoolfriends, I expect. Well, you can’t go out to anybody’s house this evening. There’s all the unpacking to do and, anyway, you have Bob here and your father will expect you to stay in and tell him all about the holiday when he gets home.’
She went into the kitchen to get the tea and the two boys went upstairs to the bedroom they were sharing. Here Travis opened the letter.
‘Oh, crikey!’ he said, dismayed. The letter, like the envelope, was in printed capitals. It said, ‘So you are wise to us, are you, you sneeking young swine well for once you have opened your silly mouths a bit to wide and we are wise to you so bewear we have you in our sites and will stop at nothing you thought you could hide in a carravan but you will have to come home sometime and then we shall get you this is annimos letter but if you know who we are well you know who we are so watch out.’
‘But we
‘One of the chaps must have grassed on us. I bet it was that louse Preston. His tongue is always flapping.’
‘But that would mean he knows the murderers. I think it’s more likely to be Sparshott. His father’s the caretaker and they were both there that night when we tried to get the biro back. I bet old Sparshott is in with the murderers, or they wouldn’t have buried the Old Python in the quad.’
‘I think we ought to call him Mr Pythias now,’ said Travis, glancing nervously over his shoulder. ‘We don’t know that he can’t hear us and we don’t want his ghost flapping about and telling us off for cheek.’
‘Anyway, what are we going to do?’
‘Pretend to go camping, like we told the chaps we were,’ said the leader firmly.
‘But we didn’t really mean it.’
‘Never mind that. I’d better leave a note and then about midnight we’ll sneak off on our bikes and get as far away as we can.’
‘My bike’s at home and I can’t go and get it without my mother knowing.’
‘Yes, and mine’s in our garage and mum’s put the car away and locked up. Looks as though we’ll have to foot- slog it.’
