‘Mr Lee shows a great interest in the welfare of his nephew,’ Sister Joan said. ‘He tells me that he saw the child last evening going off somewhere and assumed when the rain began at midnight that he’d already returned to his own wagon. This morning the wagon was empty with no signs of anyone having slept in it. I went up to the camp myself and, with permission, looked round the wagon myself. Nothing seems to have been taken and he left his money box behind.’
‘And you sorted through everything and left your prints everywhere, Sister?’
‘Prints? Why, yes, I suppose I did but I didn’t think—’
‘The public,’ he said sadly, ‘never does. Go on. Was his uncle the last person to see him?’
‘His friend, Hagar Smith, another of my pupils, walked with him as far as the trees fringing the pool. He said he had somewhere to go and ran off.’
‘Anything else?’ His biro was poised.
‘Apparently — I have this only at second hand from Mr Lee — Petroc said he’d soon be under cover, referring to the threatened rain which didn’t actually begin until later.’
‘How old is this Hagar?’ He was making notes.
‘Hagar Smith. She’s twelve. Her brother, Conrad, is also in my school.’ Realizing that she was beginning to chatter nervously she bit her lip.
‘It’s not our concern if they haven’t moved on into the secondary school,’ he said. ‘If the education authority’s content they’re getting an adequate education then it’s fine by us. Would you say this Hagar is a truthful child?’
‘She’s never told me a lie to my knowledge.’
‘And the boy? Ever been in trouble?’
‘Not as far as I know. He’s lively.’
‘I don’t suppose you have a photograph?’
She shook her head regretfully. ‘The Romanies are apt to be superstitious about having their photographs taken. His uncle may have one somewhere.’
‘Left it a bit late to report a missing child, haven’t you?’ He was reaching for the telephone.
‘I only learned of it this morning when Mr Lee came over to the school to see if Petroc had turned up there. I gave the children the rest of the day off and went first to the camp — leaving my fingerprints.’ She made an apologetic little gesture. ‘I had to come into town with one of the other sisters who required dental treatment, and we met Mr Lee again. He told me there had been a search but without results and asked me to come here.’
‘Can you let me have a list of your pupils?’ He turned away, talking rapidly into the telephone, giving details of the paper he had just filled in.
‘Why?’ Sister Joan asked when he turned to her again. ‘Why do you need the other names? I’m sure they don’t know anything helpful.’
‘As to that we’ll have to see, won’t we, Sister? If the lad was going somewhere last evening maybe he mentioned something to one of the others. You’ve only got a small school, haven’t you?’
‘Ten pupils when they’re all there.’
‘Yes?’ He had taken another piece of paper and was looking at her expectantly.
‘Mr Lee’s two little girls, Tabitha and Edith, attend. They’re aged six and seven, and they’re cousins to Petroc. Then there’s Petroc himself, and the two Smith children, Conrad and Hagar. The other Romany children are either too young for school or attend the one in Bodmin — when they attend anywhere.’
‘And the other five?’
‘The Penglow children, Madelyn and David come to the school. They’ll both start in Bodmin next term; Timothy Holt, the son of a local farmer — the Penglows are farmers too — Billy Wesley, a bit of a harum-scarum but a nice boy, and Samantha Olive — they are newcomers to the district. Samantha is eleven.’
‘Would you be kind enough to jot down their addresses, Sister?’ He passed paper and pen to her, rose and went into an inner room. There was the murmur of voices.
She wrote steadily, finishing just as he returned.
‘All done, Sister? That’ll be very useful.’
‘I’ve added the telephone numbers where there are any,’ she pointed out. ‘Sergeant, I don’t want you to think that because Petroc is a Romany child his relatives are not concerned about him. The children from the camp grow up fast, become self-reliant at an early age, but their families still care.’
‘So,’ said the sergeant, ‘do the police. One more thing, Sister. Could you step into the back and permit us to take your fingerprints for elimination purposes?’
‘Yes, of course. I’m afraid that I simply didn’t think — you’re going to search the wagon? That doesn’t mean—?’
‘It means we’re making routine enquiries. Sister. Don’t start imagining what isn’t there,’ he advised.
She bit back a retort and followed him meekly. A couple of officers were studying a map of the district, glancing up briefly as she went in.
‘Just dip your fingers in this, Sister. You can wash your hands immediately you’ve finished. Officer Lloyd will see to you.’
Obediently she submitted, washed her hands at the small sink in the corner, and stood uncertainly until the desk sergeant came over again.
‘As soon as the lad turns up your prints will be destroyed‚’ he said. ‘No need to worry on that score.’
‘I wasn’t,’ she said with dignity.
‘Now will you want transport home?’ He looked at her with a kindly air. ‘You said you were with another nun?’
‘She got a lift from Mr Lee and I have the convent car here.’
‘The one Sister Margaret drives?’ He raised his eyes briefly to heaven. ‘All right, Sister. Thank you for coming in. Try not to worry.’
As well tell the wind not to blow, she reflected, coming out into the street. Petroc had been missing now for nearly twenty-four hours.
There remained one
