A Javelin for Jonah

“Oh, no,” said Hamish quickly. “You’d better leave him just where he is. He can’t have died naturally, you know.”

Henry straightened up and looked at him. “I see. Yes, of course,” he said simply. “Well, if you’ll get rid of the tykes and see to the rest of it, I’ll stay on guard here and keep the students away.”

“When I’ve telephoned the doctor, I’ve two more calls to make,” said Hamish to Martin, as they bore away the yelling, excited dogs.

“Yes, while you’ve got the phone to yourself, it’s as well to make all your private calls at once,” Martin agreed, “There’ll be such a hoo-ha later on, I’ll bet.” Only one of Hamish’s calls was personal. When he had rung up the College physician he telephoned the police, but then he put though a private call to the Stone House at Wandles Parva in Hampshire.

“Could I speak to Dame Beatrice, please?”

“Ah, it is Monsieur Jacques.” Not for worlds would Dame Beatrice’s elderly French housekeeper attempt to pronounce the word Hamish. “Please to ’old the line.”

Dame Beatrice’s unmistakably beautiful voice came over the telephone.

“Hamish, dear child?”

“I can’t stop, darling, but could you possibly come over? We’ve got trouble here. I think it might be murder.”

“Your mother and I will pay you a visit this afternoon as though it were merely a passing call, if that will do.”

Hamish came out of the alcove which housed the telephone and almost cannoned into the Warden.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said, stepping aside.

“The police!” said Gascoigne. “We must have the police!”

“They are on their way, sir. We assumed that you would wish them to take over as soon as possible.”

“This is a dreadful business, James, quite, quite dreadful. I cannot imagine how the students who are responsible will feel about such a terrible ending to their prank.”

“You really think it was a prank, sir?”

“Poor Jones! Poor Davy! With all his faults, I never wished him dead.”

“I have to inform you, sir, that my mother proposes to visit me this afternoon.”

“To visit you? Oh, dear! I think you must put her off. I don’t see how we can possibly entertain callers at a time like this.”

“I am very sorry, sir. I’m afraid she will be on her way. There is one thing, though. She will be accompanied by Dame Beatrice Lestrange Bradley, who is my godmother.”

“Dame Beatrice?”

“The psychiatrist, sir.”

“A rope in the house of the hanged, eh?”

“With great respect, sir, I think it might be helpful to allow her to take a look at one or two of our doubtful cases. We don’t want any mistakes, and she won’t make any.”

“How do you mean—doubtful cases?”

“Well, sir, not to put too fine a point on it, we do have some rather neurotic types here, don’t you think? It would not take Dame Beatrice very long to sort out the sheep from the goats.”

“How would that help us?”

“It would not help us, sir, but it might help innocent parties.”

“I fail to understand you, James. She would hardly be in a position to find out who was responsible for the heartless prank which has culminated in this terrible tragedy. If it is known—nay, once it is known—that poor Davy may have been accidentally killed as the result of a College practical joke, every one of the students is going to close his lips and harden his heart, you may be sure. I have known of other incidents— not that they ended as seriously as this one…”

Henry came round the corner of the corridor.

“Oh, there you are, Gassie,” he said. “The doctor is here. I am sure you will wish to speak to him. I have placed Martin, Jerry, Barry and Miss Yale on guard and have had the gardeners rope in an enclosure around the pit. The sooner the doctor has seen the body, the sooner we can get poor Jones removed to a more seemly environment.”

“Not until the police have been here,” said Hamish, looking at the Warden for confirmation. “They’ve got to see the body exactly as it is, you know.”

Dame Beatrice and Laura Gavin lunched on the way to Joynings and reached the College at just after three. Sports practices had been suspended and both swimming pools were closed. This was only partly out of proper feeling. The police, in any case, wanted the sports field to themselves while they made their preliminary investigation and took measurements, isolated footprints, and put their photographers to work, and they also wanted to make a detailed inspection of the covered bath, especially of the cubicle in which the javelin, of which they took possession, had been found on the previous day.

They had scarcely taken their departure when Hamish, who had been hovering between his room and the open front door, met Dame Beatrice’s car and, postponing the necessary greetings to and by the Warden, took his mother and Dame Beatrice to his quarters.

“So it’s murder, is it?” asked Laura.