'I've read what the Reverend Horatio Musgrave wrote about it, that's all.'
'Indeed? Well, that's quite a lot really. In fact you might say that most of the basic clues are there . . . like one of those children's puzzles with the faces hidden in the picture, you might say.'
'I've also assumed that Ratcliffe took his gold out of the site of the old crater, from under the monument. Is that correct?'
Nayler nodded. 'Absolutely correct. A sort of double bluff—
that was quite clever of you in the circumstances.'
Double bluff, certainly. But not nearly clever enough, Audley thought sadly. Not clever at all.
'Yes, well, we see it—that is, Ratcliffe and I see it—as a story of treachery and murder, Audley. Treachery and murder in a good cause perhaps, but nonetheless treachery and murder . . . Colonel Nathaniel Parrott was a very ruthless man as well as a brave one. He couldn't get the gold out of Standingham, but he couldn't allow it to fall into Royalist hands—it might have changed the whole course of the war.
So it wasn't enough to hide it, he had to make sure no one survived to tell the tale.'
'Meaning—he set the explosion?'
'Correct. It's possible that he and Steyning planned the explosion together, of course. But if so then Parrott contrived it prematurely, while all those who were privy to the burial were in the powder magazine, including Steyning. Or maybe dummy5
they were in the shot-casting shed, which was next door, it doesn't matter.'
'I see. So that was the murder. Where does the treachery come in?'
'Ah, well you'll remember what Musgrave said—what was it?
—'Parrott took to horse and essayed to escape (and who shall cry 'faint heart' or 'treachery' in such an extremity?) . . .'.
Even Musgrave suspected that Parrott was just a little too ready to break out, you see. That reference to treachery is an old tradition in the story, too. And there was also the fact that the Royalist forces did seem to be ready and waiting to attack at exactly that point, where the great cannon was dismounted by the explosion.'
'So they'd been tipped off in advance?'
'It does very much look like that. They'd never tried to attack from that side before.'
'Because of the great cannon?'
'No, not really. Steyning was always firing it, but he never hit anything—'he vexed us not at all', one of the Royalists wrote.
No, it was because the valley bottom is marshy there, and with the field of fire in that open country they wouldn't have had a chance of getting across the marshy ground without taking unacceptable losses. But in the confusion after the explosion—and with Parrott trying to break out on the other side—well, with the preparations they'd made they got across before the defenders could react.' Audley nodded. 'But then dummy5
Black Thomas double-crossed Parrott in turn.' Nayler shrugged. 'That, or perhaps the break-out went wrong and he ran into some Royalists who hadn't received the word. . . .
But either way it does give the story a nice ironic twist at the end.'
'It certainly does. And Sergeant Digby had worked all this out?'
'Most of it. He is ... that is to say, he was ... a rather shrewd young fellow— for a policeman. But he was really more interested in the gold, I must admit. He wanted to know exactly how Ratcliffe had found it, he was very insistent on my telling him that.'
'So you told him?'
Nayler sighed. 'Well, in the circumstances I thought it prudent to do so. That was the other half of our secret, of course.
'And what did you tell him?'
Nayler blinked and didn't answer directly. 'Well . . . yes, well that began when Ratcliffe came to see me first.'
'When was that?'
'Oh—' Nayler lifted his hand vaguely '—some time ago.'
'When?'
Nayler looked distinctly unhappy. 'About a year ago, it would be.'
About a year ago. Long before James Ratcliffe's death, but dummy5
after the sorting of the Earl of Dawlish's archives for the Historical Manuscripts Commission. And for a bet Professor Nayler knew both those harsh little facts, but had chosen to overlook them in his partnership with Charlie Ratcliffe.
Nor was that the only thing he had chosen to overlook, thought Audley with a sudden flash of understanding. It hadn't been simply their old mutual dislike that had closed Nayler's mouth: it had been a good old-fashioned bad conscience about more recent events.
'Of course.' He nodded. 'And he brought a letter with him—
a very old letter.'
Whereas of late have I suceeded to thee Estate whereof mine Fathyr was seised . . .
