‘I used to collect paper hats when I was a kid and got invited to parties,’ said George, who had been well briefed by Dame Beatrice. ‘Paper hats and mottoes out of Christmas crackers. I reckon I finished up with enough funny jokes to keep a low comedian going for life. As for hats — ’
‘Funny you should mention hats.’ Adams, between mouthfuls of pasty and great slurps of beer, told the story of his experiences in the grounds of Crozier Lodge. ‘So I ain’t surprised as the fuzz been nosing around there,’ he concluded.
‘I thought he well deserved a reward, madam,’ said George to Dame Beatrice later, ‘so I made it a few pounds and, of course, his refreshments. I hope that’s all right, madam.’
‘Good old George!’ said Laura, when the chauffeur, in civvies for the occasion, had left them in the lounge of the Headlands hotel. ‘At least we know now why the police went hat-hunting at Crozier Lodge. I suppose by this time they’ve been to the kennel-maid’s cottage and had a look-round there.’
‘I imagine so. If the story this man Adams told to George is true, it seems to have been a strange time of day and, apparently, an unprecedented circumstance, for anybody to have taken Sekhmet out for exercise.’
‘Yes, it certainly wasn’t one of the Rants because it was at Watersmeet that Susan found the dog. It must have gone off with a stranger. They have always said that Sekhmet will trust anybody and is amiable to the point of idiocy.’
‘It was not one of the Rant sisters, perhaps,’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘but what interests me is whether Susan left her cottage at the usual time that morning or much earlier.’
‘And took Sekhmet out and left her at Watersmeet with the stinking aniseed on some trousers to keep her happy, so that she knew perfectly well the dog wouldn’t be in that garden shed when she visited it later? Sounds far-fetched to me. Why should she do such a thing?’
‘Time will tell whether she did do such a thing. Let us go to Crozier Lodge and talk to Susan. They will have finished lunch by now.’
‘I thought you wanted to talk to the hotel people here at the Headlands about Mr Ozymandias.’
‘Useless, and only an excuse to get out of having lunch with the Rant sisters. Bryony invited us, but I noted the consternation on Morpeth’s face and then her expression of relief when the invitation was refused. Incidentally, it seemed to me that Bryony’s story yesterday confirmed my suspicion that Goodfellow knew perfectly well that she was taking him to see me and that his disorientated performance at Crozier Lodge was directed towards that end and is now explained.’
Susan was out with two of the hounds when Laura and Dame Beatrice called at Crozier Lodge. The sisters said that she hated meeting strangers and would probably put Osiris and Horus back into the stable yard and go straight home rather than stay and talk with the visitors.
‘She even went to the length of making us promise not to tell you where she lived,’ said Bryony.
‘So we promised, of course, and shall have to keep to it,’ said Morpeth. ‘Anyway, although we know more or less where the cottage is, we have never been to it, so we couldn’t give you an address, even if we wanted to.’
Susan returned to the house after Dame Beatrice and Laura had gone to their own home, but Dame Beatrice had left an urgent message and was not surprised when Bryony arrived at the Stone House with Susan late that same evening.
‘We didn’t want to leave our place empty,’ said Bryony, ‘because of the hounds, so Morpeth is staying, but Susan wants to see you because of the message you left with me. I hope this won’t take too long. Morpeth is very nervous about being left alone so late in the evening.’
‘Then I suggest that you return at once and when Susan has consulted us we will give her a bed for the night. George will take Susan straight back after an early breakfast.’
‘Decent of you,’ said Susan, in the gruff, unfriendly tone to which the sisters were accustomed, but which new acquaintances found singularly unattractive and boorish, although Dame Beatrice knew that it was an indication of almost unconquerable shyness and a lack of self-confidence. ‘In a spot of bother. Glad of some advice.’
Laura looked at the square, strongly built figure, the athletic balance on the balls of the large feet, the weather-beaten face with its powerful jaw and the bare forearms muscled like those of a coal-heaver, and summed Susan up as not a person she would want to meet in a dark alley if Susan had any reason to dislike her.
Dame Beatrice saw an obstinate, rather stupid woman, but one who, underneath a belligerent exterior, was as frightened as a bewildered child. She said briskly, ‘That’s settled, then. A cup of coffee, since Bryony will not wish to drink and drive, and you should have Susan back, my dear Bryony, in good time in the morning, although later than usual because of the length of the journey and, of course, my chauffeur’s beauty sleep.’
8
Kennel-Maid
« ^ »
The police have an awful way of making you feel you’ve got a guilty conscience,’ said Susan, when Bryony had gone.
‘It’s the basis of all the brainwashing techniques,’ said Laura. ‘Once an interrogator can get the guilt complex going, the rest is easy.’
‘Everybody has a guilty conscience, if they have a conscience at all,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘I am inclined to think that consciences of the kind we mean do not exist in some of the present generation. To what aspect of your own conscience did the police appeal?’
It appeared that the cat and mouse dialogue which had taken place between Susan and Detective-Inspector Harrow with Detective-Sergeant Callum taking notes had hinged first of all on the time factor.
‘What time did you get up here to Crozier Lodge that particular morning, miss, when you saw the body in the river?’
