protected from the grease and oil, and wielding a formidable wrench, lay the landlord of The Black Prince, and by his side the folding tool-box which had so recently housed a long and heavy tire-spanner.
Unnoticed by Morse and Lewis as they left the premises, a young man had entered the cocktail bar and ordered a tonic water. Mr. John Sanders had apparently made a sufficient recovery from his bouts of shivery fever to join once more in the social life of Woodstock, if not to resume his duties with Messrs Chalkley and Sons.
On the bus journey back Morse was deeply engrossed in a Midland Counties bus time-table and a map of North Oxford. Occasionally he looked at his watch and made a brief entry in a note-book. Lewis felt hungry. It had been a pity about the fish-and-chip shop.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Friday, 15 October, p.m.
A BULKY ENVELOPE marked 'confidential' arrived on Morse's desk at 3.30 that afternoon—'from the Principal'. He had done a very careful and thorough job — that was quite clear. There were ninety-three typewriters, it appeared, in Lonsdale College. Most of them belonged to the college and had found their various ways into the rooms of the fellows; over twenty were the personal property of members of the college. Ninety-three sheets of paper, each numbered, were neatly arranged beneath a bull-dog clip. Two further sheets, stapled together, provided the key to the typewritten specimens, and, appropriately enough, the Principal's typewriter was given the no. 1 designation. Morse riffled the sheets. It was going to be a bigger job than he'd thought, and he rang the laboratory boys. He learned it would take an hour or so.
Lewis had spent most of the afternoon typing his reports and did not return to Morse's office until 4.15 p.m.
'You hoping to have the weekend off, Lewis?'
'Not if there's something you want me for, sir.'
'I'm afraid we have rather a lot to do. I think it's time we had a little confrontation, don't you?'
'Confrontation?'
'Yes. A gentle little confrontation between a certain Miss Coleby and a certain Mr. Crowther. What do you think?'
'Might clear the air a bit.'
'Ye-es. Do you think the old establishment could run to four clean cups of coffee in the morning?'
'You want me to join you?'
'We're a team, Lewis, my boy. I've told you that before.' Morse rang Town and Gown and asked for Mr. Palmer.
'Hew shell I see is calling?' It was the prim little Judith.
'Mister Plod,' said Morse.
'Hold on, please, Mr. Plod. . you're threw.'
'I didn't quite catch your name, sir? Palmer here.'
'Morse. Inspector Morse.'
'Oh, hullo, Inspector.' Stupid girl!
'I want to have a word with Miss Coleby. Confidential. I wonder if. .'
Palmer interrupted him. 'I'm awfully sorry, Inspector. She's not here this afternoon. She wanted to spend a long weekend in London and, well. . we do occasionally show a little er flexibility, you know. It sometimes helps the er the smooth running. .'
'London, you say?'
'Yes. She said she was going to spend the weekend with some friends. She caught the lunch-time train.'
'Did she leave an address?'
'I'm sorry. I don't think she did. I could try to er. .'
'No. Don't bother.'
'Can I take a message?'
'No. I'll get in touch with her when she comes back.' Perhaps he could see Sue again. . 'When will she be back, by the way?'
'I don't really know. Sunday evening I should think.'
'All right. Well, thank you.'
'Sorry I couldn't be. .'
'Not your fault.' Morse put down the phone with less than average courtesy.
'One of our birds has flown, Lewis.' He turned his attention to Bernard Crowther and decided to try the college first.
'Porter's Lodge.'
'Can you put me through to Mr. Crowther's rooms, please?'
'Just a minute, sir.' Morse drummed the table with the fingers of his left hand. Come on!
'Are you there, sir?'
