After Martin had gone, Morse rang HQ and gave Constable Dickson his instructions; and he was smiling contentedly to himself when Lewis returned.
'She confirms what Martin says, sir.'
'Does she now?'
'You sound a bit dubious.'
'Do I?'
'You don't believe 'em?'
'For what it's worth, Lewis, I think they're a pair of bloody liars. But I may be wrong, of course. As you know, I often am.' He had that deprecatingly-conceited look on his face which many found the Chief Inspector's least attractive trait, and Lewis was determined not to demean himself by trying to delve further into that cocky logic. For his part, he believed them, and high-and-mighty Morse could mumble away as he pleased.
'Didn't you hear me, Lewis?'
'Pardon sir?'
'What the hell's up with you today, man? I said go and get Ogleby. Can you do that small thing for me?'
Lewis slammed the door behind him and walked out into the corridor.
Morse had spoken no more than half a dozen words to Ogleby when they had been formally introduced the previous day, yet he had felt an instinctive liking for the man; and this impression was confirmed as Ogleby began to chat informatively and authoritatively about the work of the Syndicate.
'What about security?' asked Morse cautiously, like a timid skater testing the ice.
'It's a constant problem, of course. But everyone's conscious of it, and so in an odd sort of way the problem solves itself — if you see what I mean.'
Morse thought he did. 'I gather the Secretary's pretty keen on that side of things.'
'Yes, I suppose you could say that.'
Morse eyed him sharply. Had there been a tinge of irony — or even jealousy, perhaps — in Ogleby's reply? 'Is there
'Oh, I wouldn't say that. But that's a completely different question.'
'Is it?'
'You see if a candidate decided to cheat in the examination room, either by taking notes in with him or copying from someone else, then we've just got to rely on the invigilators keeping a very careful eye on things, and reporting anything suspicious directly to us.'
'That happens, does it?'
'Two or three times a year.'
'What do you do about it?'
'We disqualify the candidates concerned from every subject in the examinations.'
'I see.' Morse tried another angle. 'You send out the question papers before the examination, don't you?'
'Wouldn't be much good holding the examinations if we didn't, would it?'
Morse realized what a stupid question he'd asked, and continued rather hastily. 'No. I mean — if one of the teachers was dishonest, or something?'
'The question papers are sent out directly to examination departments, and then distributed to heads of centres — not to individual teachers.'
'But let's take a headmaster, then. If he was a crook — let's say he opened a particular package of question papers and showed them to his pupils—'
'It's as good a way as any for the headmaster to slit his throat.'
'You'd know, you mean?'
Ogleby smiled, 'Gracious, yes. We've got examiners and awarders who'd smell anything like that a mile away. You see we've got records going back over the years of percentage passes for all the subjects examined, and so we know the sort of pupils we're examining, the types of schools — all that sort of thing. But that's not really the point. Like all the examining Boards we inspect our centres regularly after they've been accepted, and they have to meet pretty high standards of integrity and administrative competence before they're recognized in the first place.'
'The schools are regularly inspected then?'
'Oh yes.'
'Is that the sort of job Mr. Bland does in Al-jamara?'
Morse watched Ogleby carefully, but the deputy sailed serenly on. 'Among other things, yes. He's in charge of the whole administrative setup there.'
Morse decided that he might as well tackle the problem from the other end, and he delicately tiptoed his way over the ice again.
'Would it be possible for an outsider, one of the cleaners, say, to get into the cabinets in this office? And get the papers he wanted?'
'Technically, I suppose, yes. If he had the keys, knew where to look, knew the complicated system of syllabus
