earlier with the man they had sought. Charing was no great distance from the town, miles closer than Lenham. Even if they had had to go to an outlying farm, they should have returned by now. The combination of rain and darkness would slow them down but not to that extent. Colbeck wondered if they had encountered trouble of some sort. He sat near the window of his bedroom for what seemed like an age before he finally heard the rattle of a cart below.
Hoping that they had at last come back, he went downstairs and hurried to the door, ignoring the rain and stepping out from under the portico. By the light of the street lamps, to his relief, he saw a wet and disgruntled Victor Leeming, seated on the cart beside an equally sodden George Butterkiss. There was no third person with them. Before he could even greet them, however, Colbeck was aware of sudden movement in the shadows on the opposite side of the street. A pistol was fired with a loud bang. The noise frightened the horse and it bolted down the high street with the driver trying desperately to control it. Taken by surprise, Leeming was almost flung from the cart.
Robert Colbeck, meanwhile, had fallen to the ground with a stifled cry and rolled over on to his back. Satisfied with his work, the man who had fired the shot fled the scene.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was ironic. Robert Colbeck, the assassin's intended target, suffered nothing more than a painful flesh wound in his upper arm whereas Victor Leeming, who just happened to be nearby at the time, collected a whole battery of cuts and bruises when he was hurled from the cart as it overturned. The Sergeant was justifiably upset.
'It's not fair,' he protested. 'All that I expected to do was to ride to Charing to pick someone up. Instead of that, I'm drenched by rain, bored stiff by Constable Butterkiss, beaten black and blue by that vicious cart of his, then flung to the ground like a sack of potatoes.'
'You have my sympathy, Victor.'
'And on top of all that, we came back empty-handed.'
'That was unfortunate,' said Colbeck.
They were in his room at the Saracen's Head, free at last from the inquisitive crowd that had rushed out into the street to see what had caused the commotion. Colbeck's injured arm had now been bandaged and the doctor had then treated Leeming's wounds. Back in dry clothing again, the Sergeant was puzzled.
'Why are you taking it so calmly, sir?' he asked.
'How should I be taking it?'
'If someone had fired at me, I'd be livid.'
'Well, I was annoyed at the damage he did to my frock coat,' said Colbeck, seriously. 'I doubt if it can be repaired. And the blood will have ruined my shirt beyond reclaim. No,' he continued, 'I prefer to look at the consolations involved.'
'I didn't know that there were any.'
'Three, at least.'
'What are they?'
'First of all, I'm alive with only a scratch on me. Luckily, the shot was off target. The man is clearly not as adept with a pistol as he is with a piece of wire.'
'You think that it was the killer?'
'Who else, Victor? He's frightened because we are closing in on him. That's the second consolation. We've made more progress than we imagined. The man is right here in Ashford. He's given himself away.'
'What's the third consolation, sir?'
'He thinks that he killed me,' said Colbeck. 'That's why I fell to the ground and stayed there. Also, of course, I didn't want to give him the chance to aim at me again. Believing I was dead, he ran away. There was no point in trying to chase him because I had this searing pain in my arm. I'd never have been able to overpower him. Much better to give him the impression that his attempt on my life had been successful.'
'He's in for a nasty surprise.'
'Yes, but it does behove us to show additional caution in future.'
'I will,' said Leeming. 'I'll never ride on that blessed cart again!'
'I was talking about the killer. He's armed and ready to shoot.'
'You mentioned a pistol just now.'
'That's what it sounded like,' said Colbeck, 'though I couldn't be sure. It all happened in a split second. One of the first things we need to do is to find the bullet. That will tell us what firearm was used.'
'We'll have to wait until daylight to do that.'
'Yes, Victor. In the meantime, we need to talk to Butterkiss.'
'Keep him away, Inspector! He almost did for me.'
'He tried his best to control that runaway horse.'
'But he still managed to overturn the cart,' said Leeming, ruefully. 'And while I hit the ground and took the impact, Constable Butterkiss simply landed on top of me. He wasn't really hurt at all.'
'Nevertheless, I'd like you to fetch him.'
'Now, sir?'
'If you feel well enough to go. His local knowledge is crucial to us. Give him my compliments and ask if he can spare us some time.'
'I don't need to ask that. If we're not very careful, he'd spare us twenty-four hours a day. The man is so blooming eager.'
'Eagerness is a good quality in a policeman.'
'Not if you have to ride beside him on a cart!' Leeming went to the door. 'Will you come down to meet him, sir?'
'No,' said Colbeck, glancing round, 'this room is more private. And nobody will be able to take a shot at me in here. Be careful how you go.'
'Yes, Inspector.'
'And you might ask him to bring needle and thread.'
'Why?'
'He was a tailor, wasn't he? Perhaps he can repair my coat.'
When the visitor called, George Butterkiss was regaling his wife with the story of how he had fought to control the galloping horse in the high street. He broke off to answer the door and was delighted to hear the summons delivered by Victor Leeming.
'I'll get my coat at once, Sergeant,' he said.
'Talking of coats,' said the other, detaining him with a hand, 'the Inspector has a problem. That bullet grazed his arm and left a hole in his sleeve. He's very particular about his clothing.'
'Inspector Colbeck would be a gift to any tailor.'
'Can you help him?'
'I'll need to see the damage first. A simple tear can be easily mended but, if the material has been shot away, it may be a question of sewing a new sleeve on to the coat.'
Butterkiss ran swiftly up the stairs. When he reappeared soon afterwards, he was back in police uniform even though he only had to walk thirty yards or so to the Saracen's Head. His enthusiasm was quite undiminished as they strolled along the pavement together. The Sergeant found it lowering.
'I haven't told you the good news,' said Butterkiss.
'Is there such a thing?'
'Yes, Sergeant. When I took the horse back and explained what had happened, the owner examined the animal carefully. It had no injuries at all. Isn't that a relief?'
'I'd have had it put down for what it did to me.'
'You can't blame the horse for bolting like that.'
'Well, I'm in no mood to congratulate it, I can tell you.'
