‘We mean to lay hands on Lambert,’ said Usher. ‘A detachment of ordinary constables is coming here by motor from Malton.’
‘How were they summoned?’
‘Never you mind.’
‘John Lambert believed you meant to kill him,’ I said.
Usher nodded once.
‘It was my own favoured solution,’ he said. ‘It seemed to have the benefit of elegance.’
‘Only trouble being,’ said the Chief, ‘that if we’d put his lights out, then we wouldn’t know whether the documents had been passed on or not.’
‘And my instructions were to employ diplomacy in the first instance,’ said Usher.
I said, ‘Wouldn’t it have been worth reprieving Hugh Lambert to avoid all this bother?’
‘You’re the first person involved in this case to make such a suggestion, Detective Stringer,’ said Usher; and he evidently considered this answer enough, for he sat down again, saying, ‘That’s all, Stringer. In due course you will be required to sign a contract pursuant to a new Act of Parliament. It binds you to secrecy on pain of prosecution.’
‘Do you not want me to give a hand with the search?’ I asked, standing.
Usher shook his head, and I knew why. The constables would be kept in ignorance of the reason for the search, and he thought I might give it away. He wanted me kept well clear of all developments. He’d told me as much as he had in order to satisfy my curiosity, and so remove my need to solve the puzzle of John Lambert.
‘Right then,’ I said, ‘I’ll be off.’
I took the sporting cap out of my pocket, put it on my head and walked under the steady blue gaze of Usher towards the opened French windows.
‘Remember, Detective Sergeant Stringer,’ Usher called out as I left, ‘ absolute secrecy.’
I stepped through the French windows, and a noise made me look to the right, where the wife crouched just beyond the last of the windows. As I approached her, she stood up and joined me just as though she’d been marketing in Coney Street, York.
‘You heard every word of that, I take it?’ I said.
‘All except the last words Usher spoke,’ she said. ‘But I think he was telling you again that the matter must not go beyond the four walls of that room.’
She turned and gave me a grin. But it didn’t last, for the silver-haired man in the white dust-coat now stepped between us.
‘Back inside with you two,’ he said, in a strong Yorkshire accent that I would never have expected.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The room was in the eaves of the house. There was next to nothing in it besides a truckle bed, a locked cupboard, a table and a hairbrush that could have been a man’s or a woman’s. A photograph of a young woman stood on the tiny window-sill, and she must either have been the occupant of the room — when not in Scarborough — or the sweetheart of the occupant.
Coming upon us late, the dust-coated special policeman — name of Cooper — had got the false idea that we’d both been eavesdropping on the Chief and Usher. But he hardly relented when the true situation was explained. He had found us to be making light of a grave national danger, and there was more than a hint in his arguments that we would try to come to the traitor’s aid. The Chief had put a word in for me, but it counted for nothing. Cooper was junior to Usher, but Usher agreed with his man, and so we were stowed at the top of the house, and the door locked behind us.
The wife hadn’t seemed to mind too much.
‘At least they’re not trying to be gentlemanly,’ she said.
She sat on the bed, and asked for another look at Hugh Lambert’s papers.
‘Now we’re in a cell just like him,’ she muttered, after leafing through them for a while.
A few minutes later, she passed me one of the sheets, saying, ‘This is interesting.’
I read: Father and the Reverend Ridley hit it off splendidly. The Reverend never mentioned that father did nothing besides romp around the estate blasting animals, and father returned the favour. Father was unsettled to discover that Ridley kept a model railway in his house but the only other point of antagonism between the two of them was Emma, my former governess, who continued to appear at the Hall long after her efforts had secured my admission into Eton. Her new role, according to father, was to give him ‘French lessons’. He often accused me of being too familiar with gutter slang, but some acquaintanceship with it on his own part might not have come amiss. I am sure that the Reverend, however, saw nothing amusing in the situation, for he liked Emma. She could stop him in his tracks, even with a cricket game in prospect.
I handed the papers back to the wife, telling her I’d heard something similar from Chandler at the party.
‘Didn’t Mrs Handley tell us that the vicar had a fancy woman at a village near here?’ asked the wife. ‘You don’t suppose it’s this Emma, do you?’
I eyed her for a while as she went back to reading. She was becoming properly interested in new explanations of the murder at the very moment we’d been stopped from investigating them. I fished in my pocket for my silver watch: six o’clock.
Hugh Lambert had twenty-six hours to live.
I looked out of the window. This would be a hot day, but not sunny. In the grey light, the mathematical garden looked just mathematical, and not at all beautiful, and the stone pond from this height appeared over- crowded with great, aimlessly floating goldfish. Each checkmated the other: they were all in a fix because someone had too much money. I looked up, towards the woods. Was John Lambert hiding there? Of course, I wanted him found. He had been black-mailing Britain, but somehow I couldn’t help thinking that Britain was Usher and the Chief more than it was me. By the very fact of knowing the danger the country faced, they became men who had more to lose from that danger. It was wrong-headed of me, I knew, but I felt that I would rather see Hugh Lambert spared the noose than his brother found.
I’d thought that John Lambert was going to lay name to the killer. Instead, he’d proposed to trade the whole country for his brother’s life.
At eight o’clock the manservant came with coffee and bread rolls, and the poor bloke didn’t know where to look. The night before we’d been guests of the house; now we were its prisoners. After breakfast, we swapped over: the wife looked out of the window, and I looked again at the papers of Hugh Lambert. After a few false starts, owing to his bad handwriting, I struck: It is perfectly possible to catch a rabbit by hand if you approach it downwind, and it is perfectly possible to release it subsequently. I have taught young Mervyn the trick of the first but not the habit of the second. I know that he sells rabbits to the carter, who takes them to the butchers of the other Adenwolds, and I know he sells moleskins to the blacksmith Ainsty, and that he once sold a job lot of them to Hamer, who distributed them amongst the plumbers of Malton in return for considerable profit. Moleskins are ideal for cleaning the joints of freshly soldered pipes, unfortunately for the moles. I have taught the boy to draw these creatures, in the hope of curing his habit of snaring them, but his addiction to killing rabbits rivals, I fear, that of father. Mervyn practically lives in the woods, but I am aware that he makes a special point of lurking there when father is out after rabbits, knowing very well that the pleasure for father is all in the killing and not in the acquisition of meat, and that Tom, father’s lumbering old spaniel, misses half the corpses in any case.
‘Here’s something,’ I said, calling across to the wife.
She read it over and looked up, worried, just as a knock came at the door.
It was Usher. Cooper, still in his dust-coat, was behind him. We would be allowed to go, but we must consent to be chaperoned by Cooper until John Lambert was brought in. A full search was evidently now under way. As we left the room, Usher practically bowed to the wife, taking credit for a decision that I suspected had been forced on him by the Chief, but she swept past him without a word, for he was back to being gallant.
The wife went on ahead, I walked in the middle, Cooper lagged behind silently; and that was how we crossed the lawn and approached the path through the woods. It hadn’t been settled that we’d go that way — it just fell out like that. The day was sticky and grey; the clouds rolled like smoke over the fire of the sun. As the light came and
