Marsh nodded. “Thank you. Dr. Auerbach. Where were you at that time, Doctor?”
Dr. Auerbach nodded. Light sparkled off the lenses of his pince-nez. “Aha, yah. As I explained to Mr. Beaumont, I was in the cemetery of the small church. I enjoy making the rubbings of the tombstones, you see. I have a collection of these.”
“And what time did you leave, Doctor?”
“One o’clock?” He ran his hand back over his shining skull. “Yah. One. I returned to Maplewhite on the foot, and this walk required of me an hour and a half, almost exactly. Six miles, it would be. I walk one mile in exactly fifteen minutes. Mrs. Corneille has explained to me that it was two-thirty when I went to examine Miss Turner.”
“And why did you examine Miss Turner?”
“Aha, yah. She had fallen off her horse. She was bruised, but otherwise unharmed. A strong, healthy young girl, in the physical sense.”
Marsh nodded. “And while you were in the cemetery, Doctor, did you see anyone? Did anyone see you?”
“Yah, Mr. Beaumont, the same thing he asked me. I spoke with the vicar. A very charming man.”
“Thank you, Doctor. And you, Sir David?”
“Yes?” said Sir David. He hadn’t looked at me since Marsh and I arrived. There was a small mouse beneath his right eye and a gray bruise on his left jaw.
“Where were you, Sir David, between twelve o’clock and one o’clock yesterday?”
“In the village.”
“Where in the village?”
“The Cock and Bull.”
“That’s a pub, is it?”
“It is the pub.” He smiled. Blandly. “Not by virtue of its cachet, I hasten to add, but by virtue of its uniqueness. It is the only pub in the village.”
“And you were in one of the bars?”
“You overestimate its splendors. It has but one. And, no, I was not in it. I had taken a room.”
“A room, Sir David?”
“Yes. I was feeling ill. A recurrent ailment-something I picked up in the Bosphorus, years ago. I took a room so that I might rest for a bit.”
“Why didn’t you simply return to Maplewhite?”
Sir David shrugged. “I should’ve needed to locate the means to do so, and then suffer through an unpleasant automobile journey back here. I was there, in the pub. A room was available. It was bearable, just. I took it.”
“And at what time did you leave the pub, Sir David?”
“Three-ish, I’d say.”
“And how did you return here?”
“The landlord laid on transport. A car and driver.”
“And what was the landlord’s name?”
“I can’t imagine.” He smiled. “But he oughtn’t be difficult to find.”
“Do you know the name of the driver, Sir David.
“Of course not.”
Marsh nodded. He stood up. So did I. “Thank you all,' he said.
Chapter Thirty-five
Outside the drawing room, Marsh turned to me. “Charming fellow, Sir David. Tell me. I saw only the finale to your boxing match with him, the last few minutes. For how long did it last?”
“You saw most of it.”
“Ah,” he said. “Lovely.” He smiled. “Well, then. Do you feel up to visit to the metropolis?”
“Purleigh?” I said. “Why not.”
“Phil?” It was the Great Man, scurrying toward us down the hallway.
“Yeah, Harry?”
He reached us. His hair was wilder than usual, bristling from his temples like the stuffing from an old couch. He adjusted his tie and nodded curtly to Inspector Marsh. “Phil,” he said, “I need your assistance for a few moments.”
I looked at Marsh.
“You run along,” he said, “I’ll use the auto and dash into the village on my own.” He turned to the Great Man. “Making progress, are we, Mr. Houdini?”
“Certainly. And you, Inspector?”
“One small step at a time.” He smiled. “I’ll see you at tea, shall I?”
“Naturally.”
Marsh nodded, turned, and walked away.
When he was out of earshot, I looked at the Great Man. “What’s up, Harry?”
He glanced at the departing back of Inspector Marsh, then turned to me. “Phil,” he said, his voice low, “we must proceed to the old mill.”
“What old mill?”
“Out there.” He waved his hand-vaguely, impatiently-toward the lawn. “Come.”
“Why an old mill?” I asked him as we set off down the hall.
“To investigate.”
“Uh-huh. And why do you need me?”
He looked at me earnestly. “But Phil. Suppose Chin Soo is out there, waiting? It was your idea that we should be careful, was it not?”
“Come on, Harry. You don’t think Chin Soo is out there. What is it? You need someone to fetch and carry?”
We were trotting down a broad stairway now, old pictures of dead people on the walls, the glances from their dead eyes following us.
“It is possible, yes, perhaps,” he said. “But still, one is always wise to take precautions.” He cleared his throat. Casually more casually than he was walking-he said, “So. Phil. Have you had a pleasant time with Inspector Marsh?”
“A swell time.”
“And has he learned anything of interest?”
We were bustling down a corridor, toward the conservatory. “You think that’d be fair, Harry? Me telling you?”
He raised his head. “Never mind, Phil. Forget that I asked.”
I smiled. “It’s okay. First we talked to Carson, the Earl’s-”
' Beaumont! Houdini! ”
Lord Bob, coming up behind us. He was looking rumpled again, and frantic. He strode toward us, his feet thumping against the floor. “They’ve found the bloody thing,” he said to me. He tugged at his big white mustache. “The police. You knew about it, didn’t you? That damn bloody tunnel?”
I nodded. “It was Harry who found it.”
Lord Bob looked from me to the Great Man and back. His shoulders rose and sank in a heavy sigh. The mustache fluttered as he blew out a long streamer of air. “That big chap, the sergeant. He blundered into Marjorie’s room. Mrs. Allardyce. She was resting. Went into fits. Marjorie did, I mean. Clubbed him with a vase. Huge uproar. A servant heard, called Higgens, he called me.
He shook his head sadly. “French. Eighteenth century, I think. A thousand pieces now.”
I said, “Why didn’t you tell us about the tunnel, Lord Purleigh?”
“I-” He looked around him, then back at us. He nodded. “Come along. We’ll talk.”
