‘How was Sir Bathy killed?’ asked Miriam.
‘He was stabbed in the back. The body was found just inside the low wall which encloses the manor house park on the side of it which abuts on to a public footpath.’
‘Not…?’ said Fenella.
‘Yes,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘The public footpath to which I refer is the one you took when you met me on the hillside the other day.’
‘Well, that sounds as though a servant or some member of the household is implicated,’ said Hubert.
‘It is not as simple as that. The murder did not take place at the manor house. The body had been thrown over the wall – or so the police think. Fenella will remember that it is only about four feet high along there.’
‘Why do the police think it was thrown over the wall?’ asked Hubert.
‘First, because there are no bloodstains where it was found. Second, because the head had received heavy post-mortem bruising, consistent with its having struck the trunk of a tree.’
‘But they don’t know where the murder took place?’
‘So far, no, they do not. I have my own theory, again thanks to Fenella, but I have not yet put it to the test.’
‘But where?’ asked Fenella.
‘Until I am certain, it might be better if I did not tell you. In this particular case I think I may venture a slight (although usual) misquotation, and say that a little knowledge may be a dangerous thing.’
‘Then aren’t you in danger?’ asked her great-niece anxiously.
‘I suppose I am, but I am accustomed to take precautions and the moment I feel that my personal safety is threatened I shall disclose all my theories – however fantastic they may seem – to the police.’
‘Oh, well, that’s some comfort, I suppose.’
‘I hope so,’ said Dame Beatrice easily. ‘And now, my dear Miriam, since we all seem to have finished tea, I wonder whether you will forgive me if I go with Fenella to her room for a short, but, I trust, fruitful exchange of ideas?’
Fenella had been given the room she had occupied during the week before her marriage. Dame Beatrice took the armchair while her great-niece lolled on the bed, and opened the questioning by saying,
‘What were your first impressions of the More to Come?’
‘Before my car broke down?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Oh, completely favourable. It had a car park and it offered snacks at the bar and they gave me some very respectable sherry and a chicken salad. I thought extremely well of the place.’
‘And the people there?’
‘I thought the landlord was a bit familiar with his everlasting “love”, but one gets used to that sort of thing these days. Apart from that, he was cheerful and agreeable and later, of course, a big help when my car wouldn’t go. Mrs Shurrock seemed friendly until I gate-crashed the secret meeting in the lounge, but she came back all right again later on. The woman Sukie was sullen and suspicious just at first, but I didn’t see much of her-hardly anything, in fact. I didn’t see much of the lad Bob, either. He seemed rather cheeky, but I don’t think he meant to be offensive. Clytie, the little servant, was quite a dear. Tell me, darling, do you think…? I mean, I can’t help thinking, after that frightful dream I had….’
‘That they are all dead? If that is so, it seems a large undertaking. (I am so sorry! I did not intend to make a somewhat tasteless pun!) We must hope for another explanation.’
‘Darling, as I’ve got myself mixed up in all this, do tell me what Lady Bitton-Bittadon’s fantastic theories are.’
‘Her idea, for what it’s worth – and there may be something in it, I suppose, now that you’ve seen those skeletons – is that some person or persons must have been determined to get that sarcophagus opened. Tell me again exactly what you saw when you looked at it.’
‘Well, before I went into the church I saw three workmen with a small crane mounted near the tomb, and by the time I came out again into the churchyard the top of the grave had been removed, the men had gone and the crane was still there. Nobody was about, so I indulged my curiosity and went to the edge of the cavity and took a peep. It was a very big hole and there were steps going down into it. Some of it had been excavated beyond the limits of the stone slab which formed the lid, so there was a kind of short, quite broad passage to which the steps led down, and the bodies were laid out on shelves like those in the catacombs.’
‘Ah, yes, that gives me a picture. Well, I think, you know, that we shall have to obtain permission to lift that slab again. It is possible – in fact I think it is highly probable – that while the sarcophagus was left open on Mayering Eve the skeletons you saw in the crypt this last time were removed from it and are those of Sir Bathy’s ancestors.’
‘You mean somebody robbed the family vault and put the skeletons into the crypt so as to prepare for future Mayerings?’
‘It seems to me a logical supposition.’
‘Well, of course, it had been opened up ready for Sir Bathy’s May-Day funeral, and I’m bound to admit that on Mayering Eve, so far as I could make out, anybody could have done anything anywhere in the village and got away with it. There’s just one thing, though.’
‘Ah, you’ve realised that, have you? It doesn’t necessarily follow, you know. But I interrupted you.’
‘I was only going to say that, from all I saw and heard, the people interested in getting hold of some more skeletons were those frightful signs of the zodiac.’
‘Well?’
‘Well, they couldn’t have been responsible for robbing the tomb that night. They were
