height.’
‘Cagey work! There’s one thing, though. If Tomson didn’t know he’d given the wrong man the money in the first place, it looks as if he didn’t know Trench at all. Added to that, it is now obvious that the left-luggage clerk at Hagford didn’t know Trench either. He’d been told to expect a man instead of Miss Faintley, and when Mandsell turned up he cheerfully gave him the parcel. On the other hand, when
‘Yes, but we already know, from that house on the cliffs at Cromlech and your own researches there, that we are investigating something bigger and more mysterious than a solitary murder. Miss Faintley was engaged in Kindleford upon work outside the scope of her school duties. She was not murdered for the sake of gain, nor was her murder a sex crime. She had no enemies of whom we know. Her death was brought about either because she had betrayed her trust, or because she had made some mistake which might prove dangerous to some other member of the gang. It seems to me likely, if not certain, that that member was Mr Trench.’
‘Ha!’ exclaimed Laura. ‘Of course! I see it now. Woodwork! Trench made the flat case which Mandsell collected. But
‘That is what we have to find out. It is possible that neither of Trench’s explanations is the true one.’
‘If Trench
‘Reinstatement, I think. The gang must know that he killed Miss Faintley, and they must guess that she was killed because she was in possession of evidence that Trench had—’
‘Let the issue down by walking out on the telephone call? Oh, yes, of course. But I still don’t understand why Tomson didn’t smell a rat when Mandsell walked in with that parcel. Faintley
‘But with the right parcel, child. Do not lose sight of that fact. It would, however, account, perhaps, for his refusing to give a receipt. It would give him a certain amount of bargaining power with his employers, the gang, if he could show (supposing that Mandsell turned awkward) that he had had his suspicions but had continued to carry out his orders. We had better ring up Inspector Darling the moment we’ve finished our coffee, and find out what he thinks of your suggestion.’
‘He’s bound to take it seriously,’ said Laura, highly pleased with herself. Before she could get to the telephone, however, it rang. She picked up the receiver and gave Mrs Bradley’s exchange and number.
‘Inspector Darling here,’ said his voice. ‘We’ve had a look round Trench’s woodwork centre at the school. There doesn’t seem much doubt of what he did in some of his spare time. Can I speak to Mrs Bradley herself, please?’
‘Bother it. He’s jumped my idea and got busy on it already!’ said Laura, in disgust, as she handed over the receiver. Darling had certainly come to the conclusion that Trench’s woodwork centre might repay investigation. He had taken with him what he hoped was a packing similar in size and thickness to the parcel which Mandsell had collected for Miss Faintley at Hagford Junction and which he had delivered to the rascally Tomson. Mandsell, only too anxious to co-operate with the police, had given, again to the best of his ability, the measurements of the parcel, but had anxiously pointed out that he was merely trusting to his memory. Tomson had remained unshakable in his two assertions that the parcel had been collected from him secretly, and that he had no idea of what it contained.
The inspector further reported the interview with Tomson.
‘If you could smash up a statue, you could have opened a flat parcel,’ Darling had pointed out. ‘Didn’t you
‘No, I never opened one. They was sealed, and I didn’t see how I could seal it up again with nobody being the wiser. And being as a plaster might get itself broke, well, a bit of wood wouldn’t. Take my meaning?’
‘Oh, the flat parcels
‘How can I be sure when I tells you I never opened one? They
With this information, for what it was worth, and Mandsell’s evidence which corroborated it without adding to it, the Inspector had gone to the woodwork centre.
‘Yes, Laura thought of that, too,’ said Mrs Bradley.
‘Good. We’ve found sufficient evidence here to hold Trench, apart from the incident of the chisel. What about Faintley now?’
‘Trench is the murderer. Ask him how he disposed of the wooden cases when he had made them, and the date of the first one he made.’
‘That’s what I thought. Have you any plans of your own?’
‘Yes. Laura and I return to Cromlech to-morrow.’
‘I thought that is what you would say. Good luck to you, and keep Miss Menzies out of trouble.’
‘The sparks fly upwards,’ said Mrs Bradley non-committally. ‘By the way, there may have been a fern in the parcel which Mr Mandsell collected from Hagford station – either
‘Come again, please?’
‘Either the Sea Spleenwort or the Beech (read B.E.A.C.H.) Fern. That big case of ferns which two men, seen by Miss Menzies, removed from Cromlech House, went away by sea. But don’t bother about that. Push Mr Trench as far as he will go. It won’t help much, except negatively. You will find, I think, that he took the wooden cases to someone at Hagford station who sent them on to the plotters, who put the requisite variety of fern into them and sent them back to Hagford to be collected by Miss Faintley.’
‘But why such an elaborate arrangement?’