‘I said we couldn’t get a conviction in court,’ Dover broke in quickly before MacGregor started dragging all that business up again, ‘but there is, however, still the Bar of Public Opinion.’ He permitted himself a sly, wicked smile. ‘Lead me to the telephone, laddie. I am about to cook Dame Alice’s goose!’
It was Miss Tilley who answered with a twitter of delight when she heard Dover’s rumbling voice throbbing in her ear. ‘The Chief Constable, Mr Dover? I’ll look his number up for you right away. It won’t take me a minute. Just hang on, will you?’
‘If there’s any difficulty about putting me through,’ said Dover portentously, ‘just tell ’em I wish to speak to Mr Mulkerrin on a matter of the utmost importance in connection with the case I have been investigating here in Thornwich.’
There was another gurgle from Miss Tilley and Dover gave MacGregor a broad wink. ‘Wild horses wouldn’t keep the old dear from listening in after that!’ he observed complacently.
Miss Tilley was indeed in such a flurry of excitement that it was several minutes before she got the Chief Constable on the line. Her hands twitched nervously over the keys on her switchboard and it was only by the grace of God that she didn’t cut him off again. ‘You’re through!’ she whispered and, from long practice, gave a convincing click on the wires as Dover identified himself.
Chief Inspector Dover spoke fluently and at length. Mr Mulkerrin at the other end seemed to have lost his voice.
Eventually, when Dover had had his say, he found it. ‘Are you sure?’ he said weakly.
‘Without a shadow of doubt,’ said Dover firmly. Then, feeling that politeness doesn’t cost anything, he added a fractionally belated ‘sir’.
‘I just can’t believe it,’ said the Chief Constable, floundering as his world was turned ruthlessly upside-down. ‘Dame Alice writing poison-pen letters? It’s completely incredible!’
‘You can’t get away from the facts,’ said Dover. ‘My sergeant and I have no doubts at all.’
‘But surely you’re not just going to throw up the case at this stage?’
‘No choice, sir. She’s not going to make a slip now. Your men can keep an eye on the situation, if you like, now they know where to look, but I doubt if they’ll catch her Dameship.’
‘Well, it’s all very unsatisfactory,’ grumbled the Chief Constable. ‘You’re going to let me have a written report, I hope?’
‘Er – no,’ said Dover, ‘no, I think not. The whole case has been handled on a very unofficial and irregular level, as you know. I don’t think it would be a very good idea to have anything on paper at this stage, especially in view of Dame Alice’s position.’
‘It’s precisely Dame Alice’s position that’s worrying me,’ said the Chief Constable tartly. ‘It’s most unsuitable that she should be allowed to continue as a County Councillor and Chairman of my Standing Joint Committee. Most unsuitable! Why, the woman’s nothing more than a common criminal of the most disgusting kind.’
‘That’s why I thought I ought to let you know, confidentially, what conclusions my sergeant and I had come to. Perhaps you can find some way, behind the scenes, you know, of easing her out.’
‘There is such a thing as slander,’ said the Chief Constable.
‘Oh, quite,’ said Dover. ‘You’ll have to be careful. But I didn’t want you to think that I’d just been unable to solve the case.’
‘No,’ said the Chief Constable. ‘No, of course not.’
Dover replaced the telephone receiver and turned with great satisfaction to a goggle-eyed MacGregor. ‘There are more ways of killing a cat, laddie,’ he observed gleefully. ‘That’ll teach the old baggage to come the high hat with me! And now’ – he looked at the bar clock – ‘I think we’ve just nice time to pack and have something to eat before we catch that bus.’
As departures go, it was a rather ignominious one. Mrs Quince obliged, for the last time and with no visible signs of regret, with a high tea consisting of tomato soup and kippers – a very popular combination with walkers and cyclists from all quarters of the country. Charlie Chettle and his whippet dog came along to see the two detectives off, and Mr Quince flatly refused to hear any hint that he should carry the bags downstairs. Only little Mr Tompkins was missing from those who had come to know Chief Inspector Dover most intimately during his short stay in Thornwich.
‘Don’t ask me where he is,’ said Mrs Quince unhelpfully. ‘He went off somewhere this morning before you were up and he didn’t know what time he’d be back.’
‘It’s very odd,’ said Dover, who would have liked to tie up a few loose ends with Mr Tompkins before he left. ‘Well, ask him to drop me a line at the Yard, will you?’
‘If I think on about it,’ said Mrs Quince.
‘He didn’t say where he was going, did he?’ asked Dover.
‘No, he didn’t,’ said Mrs Quince, observing with a rejoicing heart that it was now only five minutes to zero hour. ‘And if you want to catch that bus you’d better be getting a move on. They run a bit early sometimes, and he won’t stop if he doesn’t see you there.’
Dover settled his bowler hat squarely on his head and MacGregor picked up the two suitcases. Unmourned, they left The Jolly Sailor for the last time and ventured out into the darkness. It was raining again, a fact they had ample time to appreciate because’ not only was the bar clock fast, but the bus was late as well. When, at last, it arrived they clambered on board.
The overnight express from Grailton to London was running smoothly. There were no sleepers on the train
