Adders on the Heath

'She leaves me alone. I am allowed to manage my own affairs,' Gavin had replied. 'Very few wives, and even fewer mothers, are capable of so much self- control.'

'So it ought to be thank God kneeling for a good woman's love. I'm not so sure that she exactly loves us, you know.'

'Well, it's probably a bit difficult,' Gavin had said, with a grin. Father and son understood one another perfectly, a fact which Laura recognised with a mixture of irritation and gratitude.

Hamish, on this occasion dismissing all thoughts of his mother, rode the pony at an easy pace on to the Lawn. There were a number of the Forest ponies about, but they took not the slightest notice of him or of his mount, but continued their quiet grazing. Hamish reined in his pony and studied them before he moved on. He was following a narrow path, without being on it, which led, between a ditch and the open grassland, straight across the Lawn towards some woods.

He skirted the woods when he came to them, and branched off to the left towards a rough, almost unmade road. Without his knowledge, he was on the track which led to Campden-Towne's house. He kept his pony on the grass, but, hoping that the road would lead to something interesting, he followed its course. The pony plodded on until Hamish decided upon a gallop. This soon ate up a couple of hundred yards of the flat but rather uneven surface of the ground and brought them on to the common, but at a point where the rough road crossed a bridge which Richardson would have recognised.

Hamish, always interested in streams, rode on to the bridge, dismounted, slung the reins over his arm and walked the pony to the parapet so that they could look at the running water. A toot on the horn of a car caused the boy to look round. A large limousine drew up and the driver leaned out.

'You're trespassing here,' he said. This is a private road.'

Hamish raised his cap.

'I'm extremely sorry,' he said. 'Do you mind if I just go on? I haven't ridden on your road until now.'

'Oh, carry on,' said the man ungraciously, 'but remember that, once you've crossed the bridge, you must take yourself off on to the heath. I don't have roads made up at my own expense for any casual strangers to make use of.'

'Quite,' agreed Hamish. 'I do see your point. That's a very good car you have there, sir. A Kent number, I believe.' He stared hard at the number plate, to the man's obvious annoyance.

'Oh, go and write down some train numbers, can't you?' he snarled. 'Now get along with you.'

Hamish mounted his pony, raised his riding crop in an ironic gesture unusual, perhaps, in so young a boy, and rode on. The car, imitating its owner's angry snarl, drove off. When it had rounded the bend, Hamish solemnly recited to himself its number and then remarked to the pony that it was the car which had attempted to run down two girls. As soon as he had crossed the bridge, he rode off on to the grass and continued upon its uneven surface until he came out on to the heath and found himself facing, albeit at some distance, an important house partly hidden among trees.

Hamish possessed the original and slightly dare-devil mentality of his mother, combined, although not so strongly, with his father's sense of civic responsibility and duty. He rode up to the house, hitched the pony to a convenient bit of trellis and thundered on the front door. The dim-witted maid, who had once refused to allow Richardson to use the telephone, opened a crack of perhaps eight inches and said,

'Well? Master's out.'

'Yes, I know,' said Hamish. 'He's in trouble. He ran down two girls-well, anyway, he tried to run them down.'

'What of it?'

'Nothing. I just thought I'd mention it, that's all.'

'Oh? Oh, well, perhaps you'll wait a minute. I'll see if the mistress can see you.'

But an interview of this sort was beyond Hamish's scope. As soon as she had gone, he unhitched the pony, mounted it, and galloped away. His subsequent adventures had no particular history. He rode back to the hotel. Laura walked beside him to the stables, paid for his outing and took him back to the hotel for tea.

That evening, just as she was going up to get ready for dinner. Dame Beatrice was called to the telephone. It was the Superintendent at the other end.

'Mr Campden-Towne called us up,' he said, 'to report an accident. He says two girls were run down somewhere near here. He doesn't know where, but says that the number of his car was given in error and that he knows nothing about it.'

'Shades of Hamish!' said Dame Beatrice, who had received a concise and truthful account of his outing from the boy.

'I beg your pardon, ma'am?'

'Come over this evening at about half-past eight, if you can. I may have some news for you.'

'It would help a good deal if you have. I don't mind saying that we're getting browned-off with house-to- house questioning. We no longer suspect Mr Richardson, but can't get on to much else. There's no doubt Campden-Towne and his wife were represented by the Maidston couple at that London hotel, and I've questioned them again, but nothing seems to come of it. Campden-Towne says he made the booking but couldn't keep it, and so sent the Maidstons. Using a false name isn't a criminal offence in itself. There's got to be a crime connected with it.'

'I should have thought there were two crimes connected with it,' said Dame Beatrice.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGALS

'Upon my word, a very well-looking house; antique but creditable.'