attentions of steamer trunks and Gladstone bags.
'I promise you,' I begged, 'I won't disturb anything. I just want to look at the carpet.'
'Can't do it, Miss Russell. Orders were to let no one through.'
'Which means, of course,' snapped a voice from the violently waving palms, 'that I cannot have any food from my kitchen, so I lose not only my cash box, but today's income as well. Oh, hello, you're Patrick's Miss Russell, aren't you? Here to look at our crime?'
'Trying to,' I admitted.
'Oh, for heaven's sake, Jammy, let her — Oh all right, all right: 'Constable Rogers,' let her have a peep. She's a bright girl, and she's here, which is more than I can say for this inspector of yours.'
'Yes, Rogers, do let her have a peep,' drawled a voice from the door. 'I'll stand bail that she won't disturb anything.'
'Mr. Holmes!' said the startled police constable, reaching for his helmet and then, changing his mind, straightening his shoulders instead.
'Holmes!' I exclaimed. 'I thought you were busy.'
'By the time you let me go the blood had clotted beyond all recognition,' he said dismissively. He ignored the expressions on the faces around us that his statement had brought, and waved a hand at the young constable.
'Let her in, Rogers.' Meekly, the uniformed man went to drop the rope for me.
Torn between fury and mortification I stalked forward to the beginning of the runner carpet and, wrapping myself in every shred of dignity I could muster, bent to examine it. The carpet was new this season, had been brushed the night before, and did not take long to reveal its secrets. With my cheek nearly touching the fibers to take advantage of the angle of the light, I spoke to Holmes.
'This is from a medium-sized man's boot with a pointed toe and a worn heel on the left foot. The pile of the carpet has lifted off more of an impression than the bare floor. There are also tiny bits of gravel, dark grey and black, or —?'
Holmes materialised at my knee and held out the glass I had neglected to bring. Through its lens the three bits of stone came into focus.
'Dark gravel with tar on it, and an overall haze of oil. And down here — is that a bit of reddish soil, rubbed off on the edge of the carpet?'
Holmes took the heavy glass from my hand and retraced my steps on his hands and knees. He made no comment, just handed the glass back to me and gestured that I should continue. He was turning this into an all-too- public viva voce exam.
'Where does red soil come up?' I asked. 'There's a patch where the road dips, south of the village, I remember, and two or three along the river. And wasn't there some near the Barkers' house?'
'Not so red, I think,' said Holmes. 'And I believe a strong lens might reveal that this has a more claylike texture.' He volunteered nothing more. Fine, I thought, be that way. I turned to Constable Rogers, who was looking uncomfortable.
'The council has been surfacing a number of the roads recently, hasn't it? Would you happen to know where the crews have been working in the last week or so?'
He shifted, looked to Holmes for advice, and apparently received it, because he looked back at me and answered. 'There's a patch about six miles north, and the mill road they did last week. And a section just east of Warner's place. Nothing closer since last month.'
'Thank you, that narrows it down a bit. Now, Mrs. Whiteneck, if I might have a word?' I took Patrick's friend to one side and asked her for a list of the names and addresses of her employees, and told her that as soon as the police inspector had been, he would allow her to use her kitchen. She looked much relieved.
'Did Patrick say the thief took food, too?' I asked her.
'That he did: four beautiful hams I had just taken from the smokehouse; lovely, fat things they were. And three bottles of the best whisky. Set me back a bit, they did, and heaven knows how I'll replace them, what with the shortages and the rationing. Here, you're sure he'll let me use the kitchen?'
'I'm sure he will. Even if he's struck by a fit of mad efficiency he'll only want to leave that part of the carpet and the doors for a fingerprint expert, but that may be hoping for too much. I will let you know what I've found.'
Outside the Monk's Tun the sun was fully up and the narrow village lane was hot and bright. I spared a moment's thought for the work crew I was supposed to be in and pushed it away. I felt Holmes at my elbow.
'I'd like to take a look at your topographical maps, if I may,' I said. This in itself was an admission of failure, that I did not hold the details of the Ordnance Survey for my own district firmly to mind, but he did not comment.
'All the resources of the firm are yours to command,' he said. This proved to include one of the automobiles his neighbour ran as the rural taxi service, which was standing next to the inn. We got in and returned to Holmes' cottage.
I greeted Mrs. Hudson and went through the sitting room to the cabinet where Holmes kept his vast collection of maps. I found the ones I needed and spread them out on the worktable and made notes of the five places that I knew had red clay surfacing from the chalky soil of the downs. Holmes had busied himself with some other project, but when he walked past the table to fetch a book he casually laid a fingertip first at one place on the map, then another, reminding me of two more occurrences.
'Thank you,' I said to his back. 'In all but one of the places where the red soil is found, the map shows an outcropping of rock. Two of those correspond both with — Are you at all interested in this, Holmes?' He did not look up from his book but waved his hand in a gesture I took to mean 'continue,' so I did. 'There are only two places where we find a combination of red soil, recent road work, and employees of the Tun. One is north two miles on the Heathfield road, and the other is west, down near the river.' I waited for a response, received none, and went to the telephone. Apparently I was to be in charge of this investigation, although, I suspected, with a hawk-eyed critic at my shoulder. As I waited to be connected it occurred to me that I had not heard the taxi leave and indeed, when I glanced out the window, there it was in the drive, the man behind the wheel settled back with a book. I was briefly annoyed at Holmes, not so much because of his easy anticipation of our needs as because I had not thought to have the automobile wait.
The exchange connected me with the Monk's Tun.
'Mrs. Whiteneck? Mary Russell here. Has the inspector arrived yet? He did? Oh, did he? PC Rogers must have been disappointed. Yes. Still, you have your kitchen back. Look, Mrs. Whiteneck, could you tell me which of your employees are at the inn today, and the hours they'll be working? Yes. Yes. Fine, thanks, then. Yes, I'll be in touch.' I rang off.
'Inspector Mitchell came, took a look, gave PC Rogers a dressing-down for wasting his time, and left,' I said to the room at large, received back the response I expected, which was none, and sat looking at the list of names. They included Jenny Wharton, a maid at the inn who lived on the north road and worked today until eight o'clock, and Tony Sylvester, a new barkeep, who would be away from his home near the river until well after seven.
Now what?
I could not very well arrive at their respective houses and search them in their absence. Were I to stumble innocently across the cache of stolen goods, though, that might be a different matter. However, I could scarcely claim that I just happened to see the box under a bed up in the first-storey bedroom or smell the ham in — Wait now, smelling four hams, that might be — What if —?
'Holmes, do you suppose — Oh, never mind.' I took down the telephone again and asked for another number. Holmes turned a page in his book.
'Mrs. Barker, good morning. This is Mary Russell. How are you? And your husband? Good, I'm glad. Yes, we were quite fortunate, weren't we? I say, Mrs. Barker, of your dogs, do you have one that's good at tracking? Yes, you know, following a scent. You do? Would you mind lending him to me for a little while? No, no, I'll come up and get him. He'll ride in an automobile, won't he? Good, I'll be there in a bit, then. Thank you.'
I put up the receiver. 'Holmes, do you mind if I use the car that is waiting so obviously in the drive?'
'But of course,' he said, and put his book back on the shelf.
We rode to the inn where I borrowed a clean tea towel and rubbed it into one of the remaining hams, then went back up the road to the Barkers' house. The ravening hordes descended on the car, causing the driver to swerve and curse under his breath as the dogs leapt and bit at the wheels and carried on as if they were about to
