street and opened the door of Hensley's house. She was right that he had no authority to poke about in an old mystery.
The problem was, it seemed to intrude of its own accord into the inquiry into Hensley's wounding. And he'd learned, long since, not to ignore distractions until he was sure that they had no bearing on the main issue.
His next step must be going to Letherington to speak to Inspector Cain about Hensley and about the Mason girl. His excuse was the recovery of the bicycle. If he needed one.
There was a man sitting in the constable's office, and Rutledge stopped in the doorway, wary and on his guard.
But the visitor came forward, his hand out, and said, 'Inspector Cain. You must be the man they were sending from London. You got here sooner than I'd expected.'
Hensley's superior officer.
Hamish said sourly, 'He doesna' know the Chief Superintendent well.'
Had Old Bowels's need for haste been intended to shut Cain out of the inquiry?
The Inspector was young, with fair hair and a ruddy complexion, and his carriage was military.
'In France, were you?' Rutledge added, after introducing himself.
'Yes, worst luck. Took a bullet in my hip. The doctors patched me up, but if you want to know tomorrow's weather, come and ask me.'
Rutledge lit the lamp, and they sat down, Cain choosing Hensley's side of the table desk as if by right.
'Chief Inspector Kelmore sent word to me that you were here, but I had to wait for transportation from Lether- ington. Not much for bicycles yet, you know. And the carriage I generally use was busy elsewhere.' He grinned. 'My wife had errands to run. We're expecting our firstborn in three months. It's costing me more to set up the nursery than it will to send him to Eton.'
'Congratulations,' Rutledge said. 'Yes, I visited Hens- ley in hospital. He's still in a great deal of pain, but the surgery appears to have been successful.'
'Yes, well, he's a tough old bird. I never understood why he came here from London. I'd have preferred to be working in a city, myself, given half a chance.'
'Much trouble in Letherington or Dudlington?'
'Not to speak of. This is cattle country, you know. Anyone who wakes up for milking at four in the morning isn't good for mischief by eight at night.'
'I've hardly seen a man, much less a cow.'
'They're in the barns in this weather. Most of them will bear calves in late winter. Lose a cow, and you lose the calf as well.'
'Makes sense. Did you see Constable Hensley in Letherington on Friday last?'
'Everyone maintains he was on his way there, but if he was, he never reached us. None of my people at the station saw him, and he wasn't at his usual haunts. I've asked around. The fact of the matter is, I'd taken a bit of leave for personal business, because it was a quiet week. Or so we thought.'
'Which would lead us to believe that there wasn't any pressing reason for him to speak with you. Nothing, for instance, so urgent that someone would go to any lengths to stop him.'
'I can't imagine that's the case. Here, in Dudlington? It's probably the quietest of the three villages. And if there was an urgent problem, I'd have got wind of it by now.'
'Since the attack occurred in broad daylight, we can't make a case for mistaken identity. Any idea who might have set out to kill Hensley?'
'God, no. I'm glad to see you feel it was attempted murder, by the way. In the first place, it doesn't make sense that someone would choose that benighted wood to play at archery. And in the second, Hensley's too big a man not to be heard as he came through the trees and into range. Finally, no one's stepped forward bow in hand with an apology. I've only been here two years-mustered out in late '17. Still, I can't think why anyone would wish him harm. I've had no complaints against him from the local people. That's generally the precursor to any trouble.'
'What do you know about Emma Mason's disappearance?'
'I wasn't here, of course, when it happened. Pretty girl like that, though, might easily have her head turned by talk of better prospects than she could hope for here. Her mother ran off, I'm told. That's probably what put the notion into her head. No trace was ever found of her, and that's bothersome. But I would think that if she didn't want to be found, she would make sure she couldn't be. Grace Letteridge always believed she'd come back one day, weeping and repentant. If not pregnant.'
'I haven't met Miss Letteridge.'
'She's probably seen you, all the same. She lives at the corner of the main street and this lane. The thatched house, with the courtyard in front, and a garden.'
'Did she know Emma well?'
'I don't know. The fact is, she doesn't talk about Emma at all. And the general impression is that Emma disappointed her. Well, of course, so much was expected of the child. Mary Ellison is a Harkness on her mother's side. And the Harkness family owned all the land here for miles around. It was the Harknesses who didn't care to see the muddy little village of Dudlington at their gates. And in 1817 they tore it down and rebuilt it here, out of sight- and presumably out of smell. That's why Dudlington is all of the same period, it started from scratch. The church is said to be a simplified design of Wren's. At least the spire is. And then in 1824, the Harkness manor house burned to the ground in a great conflagration, killing three people. Some said it was fired in revenge for moving everyone into the new village. But I expect, like many great houses of its day, it was likely to burn without any help. Gives me the willies to see my wife walking about with a candle. But there's no hope of electrical power in these scattered villages. There's no money for starters.'
'How have you learned so much about the history of this place?' Rutledge asked, curious.
'I married into the history, old man. My wife's family has lived in Letherington for at least five generations. My mother-in-law reminds me of that daily. Another reason I pine for Canterbury.' He shrugged. 'I met my wife there, in fact, and never dreamed she would expect to live in a house across the road from her mother, after we'd married.'
'Any suggestions about Hensley's past or present that might lead me in the right direction?'
'To be truthful, I can't imagine who would have the gall to shoot Hensley. You might ask yourself if it was something to do with his cases in London. I've learned that he was involved with a number of inquiries there. One into a German waiter who was a spy. Or said to be a spy. I doubt that he was. But in 1914 people could find spies under their beds. And there was another case, I don't remember the ins and outs of it. But a man named Barstow, in the City, claimed he was burned out by his rivals. Everyone agreed it was a case of arson-what it took some time to determine was exactly who had set the fire. Barstow was looking to rebuild, and he had a taste for revenge. He'd burned his own place of business, and blamed it on his enemies. And they actually went to trial for it.'
'I remember hearing about Barstow. Hensley was involved with that?'
'Possibly involved in it, more to the point. It was rumored that Hensley took bribes to look the other way. Bribes he was supposed to share with his superior. But he stoutly denied any such thing and was rewarded with Dudlington, a quiet backwater. Markham, the old constable, had just retired and gone to live with his daughter in Sussex.'
And Hensley's superior at the time was then Chief Inspector Bowles.
Hamish was reminding Rutledge what Hensley had said in the hospital ward.
'Was it Old Bowels who sent you?'
And Bowles had been furiously angry about the attack on Hensley.
It wouldn't do to bring his name back to the attention of either the police or the newspapers, if there was any hint of scandal attached to his departure.
'What became of the file on Emma Mason?'
'Damned if I know. There's a good bit in my office, but not the whole of it. My predecessor in Letherington wasn't what you might call compelled to put every detail down on paper. I'd have thought Hensley kept some records of his own interviews.'
Cain got stiffly to his feet. 'I don't know much more about Dudlington's skeletons than you do. I relied on Hensley's experience when there were problems. I have a good constable in Fairfield and an even better sergeant in Letherington now, who see me through. Any help you can give me here will be appreciated. Come back in five years'
