'Let me appeal to Dr. Fell. What do you say, Dr. Fell?' 'I say,' replied Dr. Fell, in a slow and ponderous voice, 'that we had better settle this.' 'Settle it?'
'By opening the vault now,' said Dr. Fell. One of his canes fell to the ground with a clatter as he hoisted himself up on the other.
'But what in Satan's name do you expect to . . . ?'
'I was supposed,' Dr. Fell swept this aside, 'to wait for Inspector Crawford. He phoned that he was on his way, which was the message conveyed to me by Miss Obey. But (hurrum) he is very late. I think we shall proceed without him.'
A new voice interposed:
'Just a minute, sir.' They all jumped, and it seemed to Holden that Dr. Fell muttered something under his breath.
Up the pebbled path came tramping, rather out of breath, a hardy middle-aged man in old tweeds and a soft hat. The only feature of him now distinguishable was a remarkable moustache, which by daylight might have been anything from sandy to red. But he did not like this churchyard. He did not like it at all.
The newcomer gave Dr. Fell something between a touch of the hat and a formal salute.
'Had a puncture on my bike,' he said. 'Delayed. Sorry.' Then he drew himself up. 'What I want to know, sir, is this. Am I here officially, or unofficially?'
'At the moment,' said Dr. Fell, 'unofficially.'
'Ah!' A breath of relief was expelled under the formidable ios moustache. 'Mind, not that we're doing anything exactly illegal. But I thought I'd better wear plain clothes.'
Dr. Fell introduced his companions to Inspector Crawford of the Wiltshire County Constabulary.
'Have you,' asked Dr. Fell, 'got the necessaries?'
'Torch, knife, and magnifying glass,' returned Inspector Crawford, slapping two pockets briskly. 'All present and correct, sir.' But definitely he did not like his surroundings. They saw his eyes move.
'In that case,' said Dr. Fell, 'will you please examine what I have here?'
Fumbling inside his cloak, fiercely concentrating to remember the right pockets, Dr. Fell produced first an electric torch and then a small wash-leather bag tied at the mouth with a cord. He handed the bag to Inspector Crawford.
By the light of Dr. Fell's torch, a small dazzle under cypress shadow and the loom of the vault behind them, Crawford opened the bag and turned out in his palm a heavy gold ring whose seal Holden could not see; it was turned the other way.
'Well Inspector?' demanded Dr. Fell.
'Well, sir, if s a ring.' The other peered at it more closely. 'Bit of an odd seal. More intricate, like, than I ever saw. And this thing on the lower part, like a woman asleep ...'
'Intricatel' roared Dr. Fell. 'Saints and devils!' They all shied back.
'Easy, sir!' muttered Inspector Crawford. His moustache, in the light, was fiery red.
'I beg your pardon,' also muttered Dr. Fell, guiltily hunching his chins down into his cloak. 'But I would, at Christmas, be visiting a noted collector. I would, with graceful presence of mind, drop that infernal ring into my pocket and forget it completely. I would have it in my pocket when— never mind!'
Again he pointed with the light from the torch.
'The ring, Inspector, was cut for Prince Metternich of Austria. You may take my word for it, or Professor Westbury's, that there isn't another like it in existence.'
'Ah!' said Inspector Crawford.
'It was designed, during the days of Metternich's Black Cabinet, so that the impression of the seal couldn't be copied or forged or replaced once it had been stamped on a soft surface. For reasons I needn't go into now, you may take replacement as out of the question.'
Dr. Fell now sent the beam of the torch wheeling round to the vault between the cypresses.
'On December twenty-seventh. Inspector, I locked that door. I filled the lock with plasticine, the sort you buy at Woolworth's. I sealed it with the ring. This afternoon I convinced myself that the seal hadn't been touched or tampered with since. Will you go and convince yourself too?'
Inspector Crawford squared his shoulders.
'I'm a fingerprint man,' he said. 'This is my meat'
And, a little uncertainly, they all moved toward the tomb.
They could now see that the little pillars on each side of the door, instead of being stone like the rest of the vault, were of mottled marble. Against the heavy inner door, painted gray, the gray seal of the lock would have gone unnoticed by any visitor to the cemetery. While Dr. Fell held the light, Inspector Crawford stooped down, put the ring beside the seal with his left hand, and with his right hand held a magnifying glass over both.
Holden darted a glance at Celia.
Celia, her head slightly lowered, was breathing in short and quick gasps. Instinctively she reached out and found his arm; but she hardly seemed conscious she was doing so.
Silence.
For ten mortal minutes Inspector Crawford hunched there while he compared those seals, moving only to ease cramped muscles and never moving his head. A small pattern of night noises crept out: the scuttling of an animal in the grass. Once Celia broke the silence.
'Can't you . . . ?'
'Easy, miss! Mustn't rush this!'
Momentarily Dr. Fell's light swept around as the Inspector spoke. That expression in Celia's eyes, Holden thought: where had he seen it? It reminded him of something. Where had he seen it before? The light swung back again.
'Right you are, sir,' declared Crawford, straightening up and abruptly moving back from the door as though he loathed it. 'Thaf s the original seal. Take my oath!'
'Would you also take your oath,' asked Dr. Fell 'that this vault is solidly built?'
'Not much doubt that, sir,' retorted Crawford, handing him back the ring and the wash-leather bag.
'You're quite sure?'
'I was up here once or twice,' said Crawford, 'when Bert Farmer was building it. Walls eighteen inch thick. Stone floor. No vents or windows.'
'Then if anything has happened,' said Dr. Fell 'it must have been caused by persons or things inside?'
'Happened?' repeated Inspector Crawford,
'Yes.'
'Come off it, sir!' said Crawford, with sudden loudness. 'What could happen, among a lot of dead men?'
'Possibly nothing. Perhaps much. Cut the clay out of that lock and we'll see.'
'Can't you hurry?' cried Celia.
'Easy, miss!'
The beams of two torches were now fixed on that door as Crawford went to work with a sharp knife.
Holden had to admit to himself, in honesty, that he was now more nervous than at any time in fifteen months. No, far longer than that! At the end of the war, theoretically, you could forget your impulse to dodge into the nearest doorway at sight of any policeman. With him the feeling had lasted much longer.
If only he could remember (his thoughts ran on while Crawford's knife scraped and scraped) where he had seen that expression on Celia's face, and what it meant! It was associated with some risky business. It was associated with ...
'I only hope the key will work,' Crawford kept muttering. 'I only hope the key will work,
There was the heavy, clean click of a new lock as the key turned.
'All right,' grunted Dr. Fell. 'The door swings inward. Shove her open!'
'Sir. Listen.' Crawford's red moustache turned slightly. 'Do you honest-to-God think something's going to come out of there?'
'No! no! Certainly not! Shove her open!' 'Right you are, sir.'
