The Silent World Of Nicholas Quinn

could be believed) how accurately Roope retraced his steps from the moment he had entered the building. All in all, Roope and Noakes appeared to corroborate each other's evidence neatly at almost every juncture. Yet there were several points on which Roope's memory seemed somewhat less than clear, and on which Morse immediately pressed him further.

'You say there was a note on Quinn's desk?'

'Yes. I'm sure the caretaker must have seen it too. We both—'

'But you don't remember exactly what it said?'

Roope was silent for a few seconds. 'Not really. Something; about — oh, I don't know — being 'back soon', I think.'

'And Quinn's anorak was on one of the chairs?'

'That's right. Over the back of the chair behind his desk.'

'You didn't notice if it was wet?'

Roope shook his head.

'And the cabinets were open, you say?'

'One of them was, I'm sure of that. The caretaker pushed it to and locked it.'

'Bit unusual for a cabinet to be left open — with Bartlett around, I mean?' Morse watched the chemist closely, but discerned no reaction.

'Yes.' And then Roope grinned disarmingly. 'Bit of a sod, you know, old Bartlett. Keeps 'em all on their toes.' He lit himself a cigarette and put the spent match carefully back into the box with his left hand.

'How do you get on with him, sir?'

'Me?' Roope laughed aloud. 'We don't see eye to eye, I'm afraid. I suppose you've heard—?'

'I gathered you weren't exactly bosom pals.'

'On, I wouldn't put it like that. You mustn't believe everything you hear.'

Morse let it ride. 'Mr. Ogleby wasn't in his room, you say?'

'Not while I was there.'

Morse nodded, and believed him. 'How long were you there, sir?'

'Quarter of an hour, I suppose. Must have been. If Ogleby or any of the others were there — well, I just didn't see them, that's all. And I'm pretty sure I would have done if they had been there.'

Morse nodded again. I think you're right, sir. I don't think anyone was there.' His mind drifted off, and for a brief second one of the silhouettes on the cavern wall focused in full profile — a profile that Morse thought he could recognize without much difficulty. .

Roope interrupted his thoughts. 'Anything else I can tell you?'

Morse drained his beer and said there was. He asked Roope to account for his activities during the whole of the previous Friday, and Roope gladly obliged: he had caught the 8.05 to London; arrived at Paddington at 9.10; caught the Inner Circle tube to Mansion House; conferred with his publishers about the final proofs of a forthcoming opus on Industrial Chemistry; left about 10.45; had a chicken salad in the Strand somewhere; spent an hour or so in the National Portrait Gallery in Trafalgar Square; and then returned to Paddington, where he'd caught the 3.05 for Oxford.

Morse himself couldn't have specified the reason, but suddenly he became convinced that somehow, somewhere, Roope was lying. It was all too pat, too slick. A good deal of it must be true (the bit about the publishers, for instance). Mm. He'd obviously gone to London all right; but exactly when had he returned? Roope said he'd left his publishers at about 10.45 am. A taxi to Paddington, perhaps? Easy! Roope could have been back in Oxford before lunchtime. 'Just as a matter of interest, sir' (he asked it very mildly), 'do you think you could prove all that?'

Roope looked at him sharply. 'I don't suppose I could, no.' The eyes were steady and steely.

'You didn't meet anyone you knew in London?'

I told you. I went to see—'

'Of course. But I meant later.'

'No, I didn't' The words were slow and evenly spaced, and Morse sensed that in spite of his slim build and his rather mannered trendiness, Roope was probably considerably tougher, both physically and mentally, than he appeared to be. One thing was sure: he wasn't very happy when his word was questioned. Was that perhaps why he and Bartlett. .?

'Well, never mind that now, sir. Tell me something else, if you will. Did you know Quinn before he came to Oxford?'

'No.'

'You came from that part of the country though, don't you?'

'You mean I haven't got an Oxford accent?'

'I'd put you down as a Yorkshireman.'

'You've done your homework, I see.'

'That's what they pay me for, sir.'

'I'm from Bradford, and so was Quinn. But let me spell it out. I'd never set eyes on him before he came before the interviewing committee. Do you believe that?'