hand held out. He glared at Tweed. 'Two 'undred pounds to your educated friend before you use the machine. Clarions you want to see all ready for viewing.' `No you don't, Peg-Leg,' Newman said roughly. `Back into your office while my friend checks that he has what he needs.'
Taking Peg-Leg gently by one arm Newman guided him inside a small room, shut the door. Tweed had seated himself in a chair before a large microfilm reader. He turned a lever, scanned the page, used the lever again, then once more. `Got it,' he said. He pointed to a paragraph with a headline.
MURDEROUS BANK ROBBERY
`Five copies of the whole paragraph, please.'
He waited while Paula used her non-flash camera. Then he put a finger on the date. Wednesday 7 November 1912.
When she had taken her photographs of the whole page he used the lever again. He found nothing until December issues appeared. Then he put his finger on another paragraph with a large headline. When she had her copies, automatically ejected from the camera, she knew what else he needed. She photographed the whole page with the date Thursday 12 December 1912. `That's more than two 'undred nicker,' Peg-Leg shouted after he emerged again from his office, stick and leg tapping madly. Newman produced an envelope with two hundred pounds in banknotes, shoved it into the top pocket of Peg-Leg's well-worn woollen jacket. `That's the fee you agreed, you old thief. So shut up. We're off.' `I don't understand,' Paula said after they had left London and the three-vehicle convoy was heading south. `You will,' Tweed assured her. 'Now it's full speed to the manor at Hengistbury and the solution of two horrible murders.' `I hope that's all that faces you,' Paula mused who had on many occasions shown a deadly intuition.
38
Driving through the tunnel created by the mighty firs which closed above them Paula again had the same eerie feeling she had experienced when they first arrived. Relieved when they reached the entrance, they only had to wait seconds before the tall wrought-iron gates swung open. `It's such a lovely day,' she remarked as Tweed drove to the foot of the steps, a remark she wished within minutes she'd never made. Behind them the other two vehicles drove round the back to park.
They ran up the steps and the left-hand door opened. Crystal was waiting to greet them instead of Lavinia. Like her half-sister she wore a white polo- necked sweater and a pleated white skirt. She stood very still, hands clasped in front of her. `Welcome back,' she greeted them with the shadow of a smile. 'I have grim news for you. I'm determined not to give way to my volatile temperament.' She paused. 'Leo has been murdered.' `We'll go into the library so you can sit down,' Tweed said, gently grasping her arm. `Not necessary. But thank you.'
Tweed was shocked but concealed it. Paula watched Crystal closely but there was no sign of her breaking down. She had a stronger character than Paula had realized. As they entered the hall Chief Inspector Hammer came forward, his tone surprisingly sympathetic as he spoke to Crystal. `I've kept my word. Let you tell Tweed what has happened. Now please, if you will, have a rest in the library while I have a private word with Mr Tweed'
Crystal walked slowly away and into the library. She left the door open. Paula realized she was going to listen to make sure Hammer got it right. `All the details, please,' Tweed requested. `Killed the same way the others were. One of those unpleasant – I mean horrible – collars slipped over his head and neck from behind him in his apartment. He was sitting in a chair. Throat ripped out. I called Buchanan, who called Professor Saafeld. The Professor came straight down in the middle of the night in his Rolls with a team of medics. Until the autopsy, he calculates the murder took place between midnight and 2 a.m. this morning, subject to the usual et ceteras. I've interviewed everyone and they were all, so they say, asleep alone in their apartments. No alibis again.'
Where is Lavinia?' Tweed asked. 'She usually opens the gates.'
Crystal came walking steadily out of the library. Paula marvelled at her self-control. She spoke firmly. `I'm worried about Lavinia.' `Why?' Tweed asked. Where is she?' `Just after breakfast Marshal said he was going down to Seacove. He pressed Lavinia to come with him.' `Pressed?' Tweed queried. `She didn't seem too pleased at the idea. She accompanied him to the car dressed in that large overcoat because it was cold at that hour. He leaned over from the driving seat, caught hold of her by the arm and she agreed when he said he needed some company. She got in and Marshal drove off.' `How long ago was this?' Tweed asked anxiously. `About an hour ago. Oh, there was something else peculiar. I went out to Snape's cabin and found the gun cupboard had been broken into. Someone has stolen the Winchester shotgun.' `Hammer,' Tweed said speaking rapidly, 'I'm leaving you in charge again. We have to rush off.' `Where to?' asked Paula as they ran down the steps. `To Seacove,' he replied as he jumped behind the wheel. `Why?' she asked as she settled beside him. `I just hope we're in time – to prevent a fourth murder.'
Paula would never forget the long drive to Seacove. Tweed swung round steep bends like a driver at Le Mans, always just inside the speed limit. He avoided the motorway often a short distance above them. He had chosen the country road the motorway had replaced. `Too much traffic,' he replied when Paula referred to the motorway. 'Heavy trucks delivering to the West Country. That Rolls is an hour ahead of us.' `What had disturbed you?' she asked. `The missing Winchester shotgun.' `You want to get there as fast as we can?' `That's the idea. `Then call in at the first garage we come to.' `Can't waste the time.' `So how do we make it on no petrol? Look at the fuel gauge.'
Tweed glanced down. The needle was close to zero. How much longer before the engine simply stopped? He glanced at Paula. `Good job somebody aboard has brains.' `Don't worry.' She touched his arm. 'We're bound to find a petrol station soon'
But are we? He wondered. This was a lonely country road. No car had passed them in the opposite direction for miles. We could be sitting out here in the middle of nowhere for ages, he thought. He kept the anxiety to himself.
The sun blazed down on beautiful countryside. Purple and gold crocuses in clumps flared on the verge, backed by masses of yellow daffodils. Rolling green hills swept up on either side. Spring had at last flourished. Tweed forced himself not to check the position of the needle on the gauge. They were in Dorset now and Paula revelled in the freshness of the world.
They rounded a bend and a hundred yards ahead several pumps were spaced in front of a small petrol station. Paula dug him in the ribs. `See?' Paula called out to him. 'I'll get out to fill up.'
For Tweed the process seemed to take forever. Then it seemed to take an age for her to pay inside the station. He realized his fingers were rapping quietly on the wheel. He stopped. A tapping on the window on the passenger side. It was Paula. She pointed at the gauge. A full tank. He gave her a great big smile. She came back, sank into her seat. `The Audi Express is rolling again. Would Leo have let anyone into his apartment at that early morning hour?' `He was surrounded by family, people he lived with.
Could have been anyone. Let's hope the weather lasts.' `Any theory as to why he was killed?' she persisted. `At a pure guess he may have overheard the unknown spy phoning Calouste to tell him we were all leaving the manor. Now will you please keep quiet. I don't like conversation when I am concentrating on driving at this speed.'
Paula kept very quiet. She knew Tweed was thinking about Leo's brutal murder. In her mind she listed the people who were in the manor that night. Marshal, Lavinia, Warner, Crystal and Mrs Grandy who, so far, had not figured prominently at all in the events at Hengistbury.
She suddenly leaned forward. They were crossing the border into Cornwall. Instead of rolling green hills there were now bleak limestone ridges inland looming towards the sea, which had made its first appearance to their left.
Worse still, the sun had vanished. Drifting in rapidly from the west, menacing black storm clouds filled the sky. So dense, so low there were like mobile mountains. Tweed switched on his headlights. Heavy mist vapours were sliding over the ridges, blotting them out. A wind was rising, smearing the windscreen with the mist. Tweed started his wipers. The atmosphere was abruptly warm and cloying. `Let's hope they haven't taken out that so- called wonder yacht, as Marshal once called it, in these conditions,' Tweed said aloud to himself.
They crested a ridge, saw ahead the long steeply sloping road and Seacove. In the distance below them they saw the white cottages, bunched together with a gap where the Sea Sprite's ramp plunged down to the edge of the
