bindings that suggested they were old school prizes, was one entitled ‘A Boy’s Dictionary of Natural Substances’. Without much hope, he thumbed through to the K’s. It was there. Kieselguhr.
‘Kieselguhr, or Infusorial Earth, by which name it is known in the jewellery trade, is a fine powder used as a polishing agent. It is also an ingredient of dynamite.’
Downstairs a door slammed. Purbright hurriedly replaced the book and left the room, closing the door. From the landing he heard Phyllis stun the dining-room table with a plate of fishcakes. Immediately after came his summons to tea. It was like a prairie cattle call. The inspector descended and told her that he would eat as soon as he had made a short telephone call from the lobby. Payne, he noticed, still had not returned.
Larch received Purbright’s revelation with a grunt and, “What did I tell you?”
“You didn’t tell me anything,” Purbright justifiably observed.
“Never mind. Go on.”
“It might be as well if I waited here for him. He’s late, but that’s not to say he won’t come. Meanwhile you might like to see if he’s still at his shop. A search warrant wouldn’t come amiss, incidentally.”
“Why?”
“There could be stuff there that you’ll need in evidence. Chemicals, lab equipment and so on. It will probably be a job for a Home Office fellow, but at least you can get the place locked up. Invoices might be interesting, too; check deliveries of something called Infusorial Earth. And don’t let your blokes fiddle with powders—Payne probably used some kind of home-made fulminate to set his things off.”
“Listen: I’m not a bloody Harwell professor.”
“That’s all right. Leave it to Worple: there’s nothing he doesn’t know. I’ll be here if you want me but as far as I can see it’s all yours now.” Purbright tried not to sound too relieved.
Larch said everything would be attended to, but he only hoped he was not being let in for an almighty balls- up.
Purbright said he hoped so, too.
“By the way,” he added, “do you happen to remember where it was that Biggadyke ran down the Grope girl?”
“Of course. It was in Watergate Street. Quite near Payne’s shop, as a matter of fact. Payne never came forward to say she’d been there. It was hardly relevant at the time, though, was it?”
“Not at the time, no.” Purbright rang off.
Within the next few hours Purbright answered the telephone four times.
The first two calls were from Larch, anxious to know if Payne had returned. The shop, he said, had been found in the charge of a young man with the intelligence quotient of a sea anemone. Not only was he ignorant of his employer’s whereabouts; he seemed uncertain of whether he had ever met him. At least he had not been obstructive. The shop was now locked and guarded. A proper search had not yet been made but at first sight it did look as if some of Purbright’s guesses might prove correct.
Purbright gravely acknowledged the tribute and asked whether Larch contemplated putting out a general call for Payne to be held for questioning. Larch retorted that this, of course had been done. He then rang off in order to do it.
The third call was from Sergeant Worple, who explained that he was just checking on the chief inspector’s behalf. Purbright informed him, a little tartly, that Payne was still missing—as Mr Larch might well have adduced from the fact that he, Purbright, had not telephoned to the contrary.
“I quite understand that, sir,” said Worple, unruffled. “Logic’s a great help, even in these days.” He paused to let Purbright make what he could of this obliquity and went on: “I thought you might be interested to know that wherever Mr Payne is he hasn’t taken his car. It was outside his shop.”
“Really?”
“Yes sir. You possibly have never noticed it yourself, but it’s quite an old-fashioned model with what they call a sunshine roof. A sliding panel in the top. I mention that because it explains something that has probably been puzzling you.”
Purbright relieved his feelings by glaring cross-eyed at the telephone mouthpiece and sticking out his tongue.
The unhurried, provocatively respectful voice droned on.
“You see, sir, it’s quite clear now that Mr Payne was able to fix his explosive devices on the statue and the shop sign by taking his car right up to the target, as you might call it, and standing up on the driving seat through the sunshine roof. It wouldn’t take him a minute; then he could sit down again and drive off. All unbeknown,” Worple added extravagantly.
“He could have used the same method to get over the park railings, couldn’t he, Sergeant?”
“Undoubtedly, sir.”
“Did the Chief Inspector work all that out?”
There was a brief silence. “He gave me that impression, sir.” Worple sounded like a man counting short change.
“Well, well. It does him credit. I’ll give you a call if there are any further developments at this end.”
It was some time after ten o’clock when the telephone rang for the fourth time.
“Purbright speaking.”
He heard a resonant click as the button in a public call box was pressed.
“It’s Payne here.”
