unsigned, by an Old Boy and that, although Mr Pybus thought it an exaggerated ‘and really rather childish and silly piece of work’, he had exhibited it ‘for sentimental reasons, as the fellow must still have happy memories of his art lessons or he would not have bothered to send the painting in. Besides, he may be somewhere among our visitors and, if he is, he will expect to see his picture on the wall.’
The prize giving went off as prize givings do. The choir and the orchestra gave of their best, so did the verse speakers. The head boy gave a speech written for him by Mr Burke, the headmaster read the school report, the chairman of governors made a far too long and extremely boring speech and then insisted upon closing the gathering with ‘Auld Lang Syne’ with everybody joining hands — a proceeding which Mr Ronsonby, compelled to hold the hands of his head boy and the chairman, found particularly embarrassing and distasteful, although it was a relief to know that at last the opening day was over.
17
Every Picture Tells a Story
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Routh had not attended the actual ceremony of the prize giving. Dame Beatrice had waylaid him on her way to the school hall and said, ‘The room Mr Pythias had at Mrs Buxton’s — is it kept locked?’
‘Locked and sealed, but not for some days after the body was found, ma’am. Of course, we had no real evidence that Mr Pythias was dead until the foundations of that pond were dug out.’
‘Were you present when the room was sealed off?’
‘Yes, ma’am, me and the Super saw it done.’
‘Was the painting still on the wall?’
‘Larger than life, ma’am. Now you mention that picture, I suppose you noticed the volcano thing in the art room?’
‘One could hardly miss it. Laura has decided that it was by the same hand as the wall painting in Mr Pythias’s bedsitting room.’
‘I don’t think there can be much doubt about that, ma’am, but we don’t know who painted them, although I might make a guess and so, I reckon, might you.’
‘Yes. When we know for certain who painted both, we shall be able to name our murderer, I fancy. I may have a confession for you in the morning.’
‘Not from the murderer, ma’am, I suppose?’
‘No, I do not imagine it will be from the murderer.’
‘Ah, well, we can’t expect everything, can we? Do you mean you will come to the station and report to the Super? It’s his case now, not really mine.’
‘I shall be there at eleven tomorrow morning.’
When the prize-giving was over, the various exhibitions were to remain on show until ten o’clock. Most of the audience, however, went home after the ceremony. The headmaster entertained the governors to port in his office and had included Dame Beatrice and Laura in the invitation, but they had not accepted it. Instead, they returned to the art room to find Mr Pybus seated at his table. Half a dozen boys were putting the room to rights ready for next day’s lessons, for the tables had all been moved to the window side of the room and chairs arranged in the empty centre of it so that leg-weary or particularly interested callers could sit facing the pictures.
Mr Pybus stood up when Dame Beatrice and Laura came in. The boys politely left two chairs in the middle of the room for them, said, ‘Goodnight, sir,’ and went home. Dame Beatrice and Laura seated themselves, but it soon became apparent that Mr Pybus was to expect no other visitors that evening, so the two women came up to the table, Laura bringing the chairs.
‘Now, Mr Pybus,’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘I would be glad to have your opinion. What do you make of this rough but attractive little sketch and this even more attractive and beautifully finished painting?’ She laid the open letter on the table and unrolled the picture she had bought at the art dealer’s.
Mr Pybus made no attempt to bluff matters out. He said, ‘So, the game is up, is it?’
‘I think you had better tell me the whole story,’ said Dame Beatrice.
‘I didn’t kill Pythias, you know.’
‘But you used his trademark and stole his pictures to pass them off as your own. You will observe the
‘I didn’t steal the pictures. They were given to me.’
‘I shall be interested to hear chapter and verse about that.’
‘By what right? You are not connected with the law, are you?’
‘No, I am connected with the Home Office and Mrs Gavin is the wife of an Assistant Commissioner of Police, so you see that we do come armed with a little brief authority.’
‘I can’t stay here and talk to you about all this sort of thing. I’ve got to get home.’
‘To an extravagant wife for whom a teacher’s pay is insufficient to supply what she believes to be her needs?’
‘You don’t know my wife, do you?’
‘I am an inspired guesser with a fairly wide experience of human nature and behaviour. Even at only sixty-seven pounds apiece, I suppose poor Mr Pythias’s exquisite paintings are worth selling.’
‘He gave them to me.’
