Dover took a grip on himself. ‘I want to make inquiries about trains to London.’
‘Ah, well,’ said the young man triumphantly, ‘you’ve come, to the wrong hole, haven’t you, darling? The inquiry office is over there, see?’
‘Is it open?’ demanded Dover suspiciously.
‘Oh, you’re a clever puss, aren’t you, darling? It’s not exactly what you’d call open and it’s not exactly what you call closed. I’m supposed to be in there but the fire’s gone kaputt, see? So I come in here where it’s warmer. What can I do for you, darling – in the way of transport, natch?’
‘Is there a train to London a Thursday evening?’ said Dover, determined to get this over as soon as possible.
‘There is indeed, darling,’ agreed the young man. ‘Thirty five minutes past six of the clockio, change at Sudley Burbiton.’ ‘Sudley Burbiton? Where in God’s name is Sudley Burbiton?’
‘You might well ask, darling! Well, it ain’t the centre of the universe, that I can tell you. It’s a dopey little burg about an hour away from here by the courtesy of British Rail.’
‘An hour? Does the train stop anywhere else between here and this Sudley Burbiton?’
‘It stops everywhere, darling, and three times in between,’ said the young man, finishing off his chocolate and swopping his comb for a nail file.
‘What’s the first stop?’
‘The first stop, darling? Let’s see … ‘ He tapped the nail file thoughtfully against his front teeth. ‘Well now, the mighty iron horse that breathes smoke and fire will grind to a shattering halt at Abbots Brook.’
‘Right,’ said Dover, making tip his mind in a rush because the thought of shelling out his own money was painful. ‘Give me a single to Abbots Brook.’
‘Second class, of course, darling?’ The young man disappeared out of sight. A second or two later he was back again. ‘ Look, darling, it’s taking the food out of my mouth but I’ve taken a fancy to you, see? You don’t want to go to Abbots Brook by train. Not from here. The station’s miles away from the village. You want to go by bus. Everybody goes to Abbots Brook by bus.’
Damn and blast it! fumed Dover to himself. It’ll be all round the blooming town now that I’m going to Abbots Brook! He searched miserably through his pockets. If this part of his plan was going to work he’d have to make the supreme sacrifice.
‘Give me a single to London,’ he said hoarsely.
The young man shrugged his shoulders. ‘I wish you’d make up your mind, darling,’ he said crossly. ‘If they was all like you I’d be kipping here. Three pounds seventeen and fourpence.’
Dover went white. ‘Three pounds seventeen and fourpence?’ he yelped. ‘It’s highway robbery!’
‘I couldn’t agree more, darling. I always go by scooter myself.’
Shattered, Dover handed four crumpled pound notes over and left the railway station, a sadder but wiser man. After years of never lifting a finger for himself – he maintained a wife and a sergeant for that sort of thing – he was just beginning to discover how the other half lived. And it was grim. The money it was costing him! For a moment the thought of chucking the whole thing up crossed his mind. But then he remembered MacGregor and the prospect of putting the wind up that young gentleman good and proper was too attractive to resist. No, the show must go on! He could always get a refund for the ticket.
At the police station he caught Sergeant Veitch taking things easy and refreshing himself with a mug of tea.
‘What on earth are you doing here, sir?’ asked the sergeant, quickly slipping a book confiscated from a local newsagent under the pile of Police Gazettes. ‘The Chief Constable’s just this minute gone round to your hotel. I made sure you’d be there at this time in the morning.’
‘Well, I’m not,’ said Dover, lifting up the flap of the counter and heading for the nearest chair. ‘What does he want, anyhow?’
‘Well, he wanted to see you, sir. He seemed a bit upset that he hadn’t had any progress reports from you.’
‘Old fool!’ said Dover.
‘I’ll ring up the hotel and see if I can catch him, shall I, sir?’
‘Wafor?’
‘To tell him you’re here, sir.’
‘I can see why you never got beyond sergeant,’ Dover observed pleasantly. ‘Now, how about nipping up to the canteen and getting me a cup that cheers but does not inebriate?’
‘Eh?’
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ snapped Dover. ‘A cup of tea, you fool!’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, sir. I’ll send Jimmy here.’
‘You won’t send “ Jimmy here”, you’ll go yourself! The exercise’ll do you good. I want to have a word with “ Jimmy here” myself – private. So I don’t want to see your ugly mug for another ten minutes. Now, push off! And four lumps of sugar in mine!’ he bawled as the station sergeant unhappily moved off in the direction of the canteen. ‘Right, laddie!’ Dover eyed the bright young police cadet who instantly snapped, quivering, to attention. ‘So you’re “Jimmy here”, are you?’
‘Yessir! ’
‘Well, take the weight off your feet and pin your ears back because, if you slip up, laddie, you’ll have me to answer to.’ Dover scowled horribly.
‘Yessir!’
‘Now, can you keep your trap shut? Because you’re not to breathe a word to a living soul about what I’m going to ask you to do. Now then, Thursday night – that’s tomorrow night – at 6.35 p.m. on the dot, not a second earlier and not a second later, you’re to take this letter to the Chief Constable and give it to him personally. Got it?’
‘Yessir!’ The cadet’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he took the dog-eared-letter which Dover held out to him. ‘Matter of life and death, is it, sir?’
‘It may come to that, laddie,’ said Dover solemnly. ‘And it’ll be on your head if anything goes wrong, so just watch it. Make sure you know exactly where the Chief Constable’s going to be on Thursday night.’
‘Yessir! I’d already thought of
