The two policewomen, unconscious of the interest they were arousing, disappeared into the underground lavatory. W.P.C. Smith stumbled down blindly and Sergeant Kempton made a great show of taking a deep breath before she too plunged down the grey stone steps.
Dover and MacGregor settled themselves as best they could on their hard upright chairs and began to wait.
At about a quarter past ten they spotted Boris Bogolepov coming out of the chemist’s. It was the first time they had seen him not wearing pyjamas and for a moment they didn’t recognize him. He turned up his raincoat collar and stuffed a small package in his pocket.
‘Been to collect his dope,’ said Sergeant MacGregor sourly. ‘Makes you wonder what the Health Service is coming to, doesn’t it?’
They watched Boris thread his way across the Market Square to join Eulalia Hoppold at one of the vegetable stalls. Two tall, red-faced young men with thick necks and large feet hovered awkwardly near by, pretending to examine a selection of plastic aprons which were selling at the bargain price of 3s. 91/2d. each, or two for 6s. 6 d.
‘That,’ Dover pointed out sarcastically, ‘is the local police doing a bit of shadowing! The fat stupid oafs !’
Half an hour later the waiting detectives were rewarded by the sight of Kitty Chubb-Smith and her daughter-in-law loaded down with shopping. For one breathless moment it looked as though they were actually approaching the ladies’ convenience, but they turned aside into the George Hotel which, on market- days, served morning coffee at suitably exorbitant prices and stood slightly higher in the social scale than Miss Mathilda’s Tea Shoppe.
Dover looked round. ‘I can’t see the men who’re supposed to be following them,’ he grumbled.
‘They most likely came in by car, sir,’ suggested MacGregor; ‘your chaps are probably still waiting at the bus station.’
Dover sighed. What could you do?
Time passed slowly. It was all very boring. The number of women visiting the ladies’ convenience steadily increased as the market livened up, and more and more people flowed into the town for their weekly shopping, but, in the absence of any indication to the contrary from the two policewomen, it had to be assumed that no one had yet collected the money.
Dover and MacGregor sat on, drinking cup after cup of Miss Mathilda’s dreadful coffee. They were naturally a source of considerable interest to the Tea Shoppe’s regular clientele. For one thing, they were the only representatives of the stronger sex in the place. For another, they sat over their coffee for such a long time, outlasting even the most persistent of Miss Mathilda’s customers. And for a third, they were so obviously the object of Lady Williams’s tantrums when she came in and found that her table, at which, as she proclaimed in a piercing voice, she had sat for coffee every Wednesday morning for the last eleven years, had been invaded by strangers, and men at that. Lady Williams, resplendent in a transparent plastic mackintosh and matching pixie hood, had brushed aside Miss Mathilda’s mumbled excuses.
She forged her way across the cafe and seized hold of a vacant chair at the coveted window table.
‘Do you mind,’ she said in a voice of frigid politeness which rang round the delighted and expectant room, ‘do you mind if I join you?’
Dover eyed her slowly up and down as if considering the matter. ‘Yes,’ he said at last in a loud voice, ‘as a matter of fact, I do.’
Lady Williams retreated in shocked disorder and Miss Mathilda lost for ever what had undoubtedly been the Tea Shoppe’s most distinguished customer.
Of course, not all the people who came into the caf€ were puzzled as to what two strange men were doing peering through the window. Colonel Bing and Miss McLintock, after a preliminary start of surprised recognition, discussed the matter in loud whispers which even Dover could hear clearly twenty feet away. The ladies were so absorbed in their speculations that Peregrine, the white poodle, was able to spend a penny on the table leg before he was cut off in mid-stream by a hefty belt on the ear from Colonel Bing.
After a few moments Miss Freel joined them and the two detectives were discreetly pointed out to her. Amy Freel, the acknowledged expert after all in this field, summed up the situation immediately.
‘Be careful!’ she hissed in rebuke as Miss McLintock waved shyly with her library book. ‘They’re obviously On The Job. We mustn’t compromise them. Georgie, for goodness’ sake stop staring at them! You’ll ruin the whole thing!’
‘What whole thing?’ demanded Colonel Bing with her usual military bluntness.
‘Oh,’ Amy Freel laughed airily, ‘I’m afraid I’m not in a position to reveal that to outsiders, you know.’ Which was as good an example of lying without actually telling an untruth as anyone is likely to achieve with no warning to speak of.
Miss Freel grabbed Georgie’s library book, opened it and peered cautiously over the top at Dover and Sergeant MacGregor.
‘Oh,’ she whispered excitedly, ‘they’re watching the ladies’ lavatory in the Square! How very odd!’
‘Odd?’ snorted Colonel Bing. ‘It’s damned disgusting, if you ask me! Somebody ought to tell the police about ’em and get ’em stopped!’
Miss McLintock retrieved her library book and began quietly to hunt through the pages. ‘Don’t be silly, Bingo dear,’ she said mildly.
Sergeant MacGregor looked hopelessly at his chief inspector. ‘Well, sir,’ he said, ‘I reckon that’s let the cat out of the bag all right!’
Dover blew crossly down his nose. ‘If,’ he said bitterly, ‘it was ever in.’
At twelve thirty they partook of Miss Mathilda’s snack luncheons-baked beans on toast and yet another cup of coffee. Both Dover and MacGregor were feeling increasing uncomfortable and looked wistfully at the sign marked ‘Gendemen’ which they could see tantalizingly less than a hundred yards away, but neither wanted to be the first to acknowledge
