Faintley Speaking

Mandsell’s description tallied exactly with that given by the station officials. Without being prompted, he even commented upon the extreme left-handedness of the luggage clerk.

‘It was almost like a deformity,’ he said, ‘but he seemed to manage all right.’

The two police officers had obtained from the landlady the address of the Price brothers’ doctor. He could offer no explanation of the awkward and noticeable left-handedness, but thought it was probably due to an obstinate reaction from having had to be right-handed at school. In spite of modern ideas upon the subject, he declared, some teachers were still wicked and misguided enough to try to force left-handed boys to use the right hand for writing and carpentry and so forth. He held forth upon the iniquity of this practice, added that there was nothing physically wrong with Price’s right hand and arm, and left the officers little the wiser.

‘I’d better get on to Mohawk Tours,’ said Darling. ‘Not that they’ll be able to help much. If they’d lost a cash customer en route they’d have reported it before this. Still, I must see them.’

‘Right. I must get back to Torbury. You’ll let me know anything useful?’

‘Of course, and that goes for you, too.’

The two detective-inspectors parted on terms of personal goodwill and official disappointment that the inquiry was not bearing much fruit, and Darling went straight to the local office which booked places on Mohawk Tours motor-coaches. As he walked along the High Street at Hagford, another point occurred to him. As Price was employed by the railway, he would be allowed some travel concessions. It seemed odd that he should forego these on his annual holiday. However, probably he merely wanted a change.

Mohawk Tours were helpful – almost too helpful, in fact. Two men named Price had indeed taken their tour, and had been very popular with the party. Darling, who could never have been accused of scamping his job, asked whether one of them had not been very noticeably left-handed.

‘I could not say, but the driver who took out that tour may be having his change-over day. I will ring up,’ said the agency clerk, who was curious to know what this was all about. The result of his inquiry was interesting. Both Prices had played cards with the driver, who was also the courier. Both were slick dealers. Both dealt right-handed and at lightning speed. He had never noticed either of them to be left-handed at table or elsewhere.

A description of the brothers, sought eagerly now by the Inspector, did not tally in the slightest with the description given by the landlady, the station staff, or Mandsell, all of whom had been in agreement.

‘So what’s happened to the Prices is anybody’s guess,’ said Darling on the telephone to Vardon. ‘We’re getting on their trail at once. Someone impersonated them on that trip, but whether it was a put-up job, or whether they’ve been kidnapped, it’s hard to say. Anything more from your end?’

‘Nothing yet, and Mrs Bradley and her secretary are coming your way, I think. The old lady, between ourselves, is as much at sea as the rest of us, I fancy. Still, we’ve got our orders to give her all the gen, so I’ll pass on what you’ve told me. What about the Faintley aunt and the search warrant?’

‘I haven’t applied for one yet. I may not need to. My own view is that Faintley was merely a stooge – someone obviously respectable, who could be trusted to pick up the parcels.’

‘What do you think they contained? – dynamite?’

‘Snow. That’s my guess up to date. Snow in the statues and instructions in the flat package collected by Mandsell.’

‘No wonder Tomson’s scared. I’ve been thinking along those lines myself, as a matter of fact, but would Tomson have invented anything so unlikely as ferns being hidden in the statues?’

‘No. It’s a code word, I expect. He hopes to diddle us with it, and, up to date, he’s succeeded. He’s monkey- clever, you know. We’ve had him on our books for years, and have never caught him out yet. I’m hoping he’s stubbed his toe this time, though.’

Chapter Six

MYSTERY MEN

‘When I burned in desire to question them further,

they made themselves air, into which they vanished.’

shakespeare – Macbeth

« ^ »

‘Dear me,’ said Mrs Bradley, meeting Mark at the entrance to the dining-room, ‘and what does this betoken?’

‘We’ve finished breakfast,’ replied Mark, ‘and we’re going home to-day.’ He glanced down at his best trousers. ‘Everything’s packed, and we’re going out for a bit of a walk before lunch, and then, directly lunch is over, we shall be off. I shan’t be sorry.’

‘I, too, have had my fill of Cromlech,’ Mrs Bradley agreed. ‘A pleasing village, but, on the whole, rather lacking in amenities.’

‘Saw it all the first day,’ muttered Mark. ‘There’s nothing decent to do except bathe, and the tide isn’t always right for that, and if you take a boat out you’ve got to have a boatman. Now, if I’d gone to France…’ He proceeded to give a colourful description of the delights which he and Ellison had envisaged.

‘France,’ said Mrs Bradley reminiscently. ‘Ah, yes, so you told me before. I shall fly to Lascaux to-morrow… at least, not all the way to Lascaux, but to the airport nearest to it.’

‘To-morrow? Oh, I say, you are lucky!’

‘When does school reopen?’

‘Wednesday, worse luck. Still, I shall see Ellison again. They’ve gone to Jersey.’