lion's den.'
'Why?' demanded Paula.
'Here is Tweed. You rejoin him in the Audi. Harry will be travelling with me.'
'OK, Paula,' said Tweed as he appeared, opening the door for her. 'I'll take over the lead from now on,' he told Marler.
'You must be mad,' Paula snapped as she settled beside Tweed in the Audi. 'He'll be expecting you at Finden – with an army of thugs.'
'I've changed my mind. We're heading straight back to Hobartshire. I'll inform Marler in a moment. As in the past, I had a surge of fury, and misjudgement, when I thought that landslide was going to kill you.'
'You'd have been killed too,' she pointed out.
'Goes with the territory where I'm concerned.' He used her mobile to tell Marler of the change of desti nation. 'He also likes the idea. Our main task is still to identify the murderer.'
'Any narrowing of the list of suspects?' she enquired.
'Possibly. A motive has appeared but it may not be right.'
Paula took a last look at the bleak inland landscape. She was so looking forward to getting away from the treacherous sea. To be revelling in the greenery of Hobartshire, the strange old town of Gunners Gorge.
It was mid-morning and still May. The sun shone out of a blue sky. The temperature indicator inside the car registered 70 °F in the open. Perfect – Paula settled down to enjoy the ride as they entered green countryside with rolling slopes and passed under arcades of dense trees in full leaf creating a boulevard- like atmosphere. Then the mobile buzzed. Tweed grabbed it.
'Tweed here. Bob! Great to hear from you. What? Accident? Has he survived? Thank heavens for that. We're on our way to you from Seaward Cove. Expect our arrival about dusk. OK. Meet you inside the garage at the Nag's Head. Watch your back.'
'Something has happened?' asked Paula.
'An attempt was made to kill Lord Bullerton this morning.'
'Neville Guile,' she said.
'Doubt that. They were still doing business together.'
'Maybe they'd completed their business, so Guile -'
'Maybe, maybe, maybe,' Tweed responded irritably. His voice changed to normal. 'Now there could be a motive there. I think the fog is clearing over these mass murders. Must let Marler and Harry know.'
He spoke briefly on the mobile, knowing the quick witted Marler would grasp the situation when told in a few words.
Then he concentrated on his driving. Half his mind was on this startling new development. Paula tapped his arm gently.
'You're driving much faster. Only just under the speed limit…'
'I know the speed limit,' he rapped back.
'I'm sure you do.' Paula changed the subject. 'I really am looking forward to seeing Bob again.'
'So am I. I suspect he may have accumulated a whole load of information as to what is really going on up there. Something is. I said earlier I believe it's some thing big. I'm more than ever convinced about that.'
'Bob won't have wasted his time. The energy of the man is phenomenal.'
'Paula…' He looked at her and smiled. 'I apologize for my recent irritability. An attack on Bullerton is the last thing I expected.'
'You've been under tremendous pressure. Please forget the apology. Not necessary. You took a wise decision to return to Hobartshire.'
'We could be walking into a dangerous situation,' he warned.
'Situation normal,' she replied calmly.
It was dusk when they arrived at the Nag's Head and drove slowly into the garage. Newman appeared from behind Harry's grey Fiat. For a moment Paula didn't recognize him. He was wearing khaki drill, a straw hat, brim pulled well down over his face, and dark glasses. He removed hat and glasses and came forward to hug her.
'Good to see you,' Tweed called out, still seated behind the wheel of the Audi. 'What do you advise as our immediate objective?'
'Drive with Paula and Harry to Hobart House right now. I can talk when you get back. Suggest dinner in your suite.'
Driving to Hobart House, Paula found it strange to be back in familiar surroundings. She sat beside Tweed who was behind the wheel. Harry occupied the rear of the Audi. Approaching the turn-off lane at the nearest end of the Village, he leaned forward.
'I don't believe it. Mrs Grout is scrubbing her steps again.'
'Maybe a cat with muddy paws climbed them,' Paula joked.
'Drop me off close to that hole in the hedge,' Harry requested. 'Anyone pursuing you up that slope will get a bullet closer to his legs than he'll like.'
When they drove on down to Hobart House it was pitch black. The moon was obscured by a low bank of dark clouds. Every light in the residence was on.
The front door was opened by Lance. Wearing a pale grey blazer and cream trousers, he looked as smart as he always did. His expression was one of relief when he saw them under the glow of the porch lantern.
'Am I glad to see the two of you. Something awful has happened.'
'How is your father?' Tweed asked as they entered the hall.
'Lucky to be alive. Who would do such a thing? Father is in his study, working on some papers. He's amazing. The doctor has been, checked him over. No bones broken and no injury to the muscular system. I'll take you to him.'
'Hold it a second,' Tweed ordered. 'When did this happen? In the early morning? I see. Now, who was in the house at the time?'
'Let's see.' Lance frowned. 'I was here, so were Margot and Sable – in their rooms. Mrs Shipton was here – gets in to her kitchen where she is now at crack of dawn. To deal with the girl staff from the town, and they'd gone by then. I think that's the lot. No, the stable staff were in their stables.' He smiled ruefully. 'Dawn cracks when it sees them coming.'
'What was the nature of the so-called accident?'
'My father couldn't sleep, so he got up earlier than usual to take his morning ride before breakfast. Apparently found his horse, Fairlight, already saddled for him. Jumps on it, goes riding along the course. Was just about to go over a high hurdle when his saddle tips sideways, throws him off. Luckily they hadn't mown the side grass yet, which broke his fall.'
'Who saddles his horse?'
'Jacko, chief stable lad.'
'Thank you. We'd like to see your father now.'
Lance led the way to the study. Opening the door, he called out, 'Company which you'll welcome!'
As they walked into the spacious room, Lord Bullerton was at a desk pushed against the wall. Its surface was covered with papers. Lord Bullerton's bulk was settled in a tall Queen Anne straight-backed chair. What happened next startled Tweed.
Bullerton turned sideways, saw his visitors, leapt up and stomped steadily towards them. His hand was outstretched, his tread normal.
'Welcome, Tweed, and you too, Paula. I couldn't have expected two more interesting visitors at this time of night. I suggest you both celebrate with me over double Scotches.'
He indicated a large glass on the desk. It was already half empty.
'Paula,' he continued vigorously, 'come and join me on the couch. You're looking more beautiful than ever.'
'I hear you've had a bad so-called accident,' said Tweed, 'being tipped off your horse close to a high hurdle.'
'When you ride a lot, as I do, these things happen.' Bullerton finished off his Scotch, poured himself another. 'No point in fussing.'
'This was a carefully planned attempt…' Tweed paused, 'and I don't think you've grasped it yet – to murder
