The walls of the large house glowed pinkly as the last rays of the fast-setting sun reflected off the white surface. Fender had left his car in the small car park at the entrance to The Warren and made his way up to the house on foot. He had passed two attached cottages which, he assumed, belonged to forest keepers or whoever maintained the grounds of The Warren, and taken a lane branching to the left. He approached the house from the rear, the rough road winding round till it formed a circle enclosing a centre lawn set out before the house itself, another road leading off from it towards the estate's main entrance. Before Fender had branched off, he had noticed the sign pointing towards The Warren's offices and realized the forest's administrative staff were kept separate from the main house in which Edward Whitney-Evans, the Superintendent of Epping Forest, lived.
His own shadow was cast darkly before him as Fender strode past three high windows, their glass reaching down to the ground. White-painted lattice-work covered with deep green foliage clung to the lower half of the house, rising up on either side of the windows and joining above them. If the house came with the job, then the Superintendent's lot was a happy one, Fender thought as he rang the doorbell.
The door opened almost immediately and a small, waspish woman peered out at him.
'Mr. Fender, is it?' she said and before he had a chance to correct her, she ushered him in. 'Mr. Whitney- Evans is waiting for you.'
She moved aside to allow him entrance and he stepped through the porch into the main building.
Through there, sir,' she said, indicating a door on the left of the hallway. He thanked her and entered the room finding it empty. He walked over to one of the deep windows and gazed out; the grounds sloped away from the circular lawn and, even in the dusk, Fender could see the estate was beautifully situated. The Epping New Road, with its heavy traffic, was completely screened from the house by trees and shrubbery. Beyond he could see the hills of woodland and it was hard to consider he was so close to the world's largest city.
'Ah, Fender.'
He turned to see a man in a dark grey suit standing in the doorway.
Tender, actually.'
The man looked puzzled for a moment. 'I thought Milton said Fender over the phone. Not to worry. Tell me what this is all about, Fender.' He strode forward and settled himself in an armchair and indicated a chair for Fender. He was a squat man, who appeared to be in his late fifties; a few streaks of hair were combed carefully across his bald head, compensated by wispy locks curling around his ears and resting on his shirt collar. Enlarged eyes stared out at Fender through thick lenses.
Slightly irritated by the man's gruff, no-nonsense tone, Fender sat and deliberately took his time in answering. There was silence for a moment or so, each sizing up the other, the superintendent finally becoming impatient.
Well?' he said.
Fender cleared his throat. 'I was sent to the Conservation Centre by Ratkill to investigate complaints by Mr. Milton ...'
'Yes, yes, I know all that; Milton discussed it with me first. When I spoke to him a little while ago on the phone he said you'd found some evidence. That's why I asked him to send you over here. I thought you might have got here sooner -the Centre's only five minutes away.'
'I wanted to examine the rat droppings Mr. Milton had collected first.
Also, I wanted to see the door of the refuse building that had been broken into.'
'And what did you deduce from all this?'
'I'd say it's fairly certain that you have the Black rat living in this forest.'
Whitney-Evans frowned in displeasure. 'Fairly certain? What does that mean? You're either sure or you're not.'
Fender struggled to keep his voice even. 'I said fairly certain because I haven't yet seen the rat itself. All the evidence points to it being the Black, though.'
'But you could be wrong. It could be another type of rodent.'
'One of the tutors at the Centre, Jenny Hanmer, saw three of them.'
'Yes, the Warden told me that. He also said the pond in question is extremely shaded and the only other adult witness has questionable vision.'
'But I went down to the pond myself with Miss Hanmer.'
'And you found evidence that a family of stoats had been slaughtered.'
Torn to pieces.'
'Yes, yes, but by what? You, yourself, did not actually see the assailants.'
'No, but there's enough evidence now to assume ...'
'No, Fender. We mustn't assume anything. Do you realize the harm such an assumption could bring to the forest?'
That's not the point. If people are killed ...'
'Of course we don't want anybody to be killed by these creatures if they exist. But first, let's make sure they are a reality. Surely you can you must investigate further before you reach such an extreme conclusion.'
'Look, Mr. Whitney-Evans, I can appreciate not wanting to spoil the image of your beautiful forest, but if lives are in danger, there is no choice in the matter. Epping Forest will have to be cleared of people.'
'Impossible!' The Superintendent stood, his face flushed red. 'Don't you realize how densely populated Epping Forest and its neighbouring forests are? You can't just suddenly shift all those people on the slight evidence you've produced.'
The evidence is enough for me,' Fender replied.
