of his flesh.'
'Oh, quite. What we want is evidence.'
'Evidence,' growled Luke. 'Just the one thing that's absolutely lacking. The man's been too careful. A careful murderer! A careful lunatic!'
'I've been trying to help,' said Bridget.
'With Ellsworthy, you mean?'
'Yes. I thought I could probably tackle him better than you could. I've made a beginning.'
'Tell me.'
'Well, it seems that he has a kind of little coterie — a band of nasty friends. They come down here from time to time and celebrate.'
'Do you mean what are called nameless orgies?'
'I don't know about nameless but certainly orgies. Actually, it all sounds very silly and childish.'
'I suppose they worship the devil and do obscene dances.'
'Something of the kind. Apparently they get a kick out of it.'
'I can contribute something to this,' said Luke. 'Tommy Pierce took part in one of their ceremonies. He was an acolyte. He had a red cassock.'
'So he knew about it?'
'Yes. And that might explain his death.'
'You mean he talked about it?'
'Yes — or he may have tried a spot of quiet blackmail.'
Bridget said thoughtfully, 'I know it's all fantastic, but it doesn't seem quite so fantastic when applied to Ellsworthy as it does to anyone else.'
'No, I agree. The thing becomes just conceivable instead of being ludicrously unreal.'
'We've got a connection with two of the victims,' said Bridget. 'Tommy Pierce and Amy Gibbs.'
'Where do the publican and Humbleby come in?'
'At the moment, they don't.'
'Not the publican. But I can imagine a motive for Humbleby's removal. He was a doctor and he may have tumbled to Ellsworthy's abnormal state.'
'Yes, that's possible.'
Then Bridget laughed. 'I did my stuff pretty well this morning. My psychic possibilities are grand, it seems, and when I told how one of my great-great-grandmothers had a near escape of being burnt for witchcraft, my stock went soaring up. I rather think that I shall be invited to take part in the orgies at the next meeting of the Satanic Games, whenever that may be.'
Luke said, 'Bridget, for God's sake, be careful.' She looked at him, surprised. He got up. 'I met Humbleby's daughter just now. We were talking about Miss Fullerton. And the Humbleby girl said that Miss Fullerton had been worried about you.'
Bridget, in the act of rising, stopped as though frozen into immobility. 'What's that? Miss Fullerton worried — about me.'
'That's what Rose Humbleby said.'
'Rose Humbleby said that?'
'Yes.'
'What more did she say?'
'Nothing more.'
'Are you sure?'
'Quite sure.'
There was a pause, then Bridget said, 'I see.'
'Miss Fullerton was worried about Humbleby, and he died. Now I hear she was worried about you –'
Bridget laughed. She stood up and shook her head, so that her long black hair flew out round her head. 'Don't worry,' she said. 'The devil looks after his own.'
Chapter 11
He leaned back in his chair on the other side of the bank manager's table. 'Well, that seems very satisfactory,' he said. 'I'm afraid I've been taking up a lot of your time.'
Mr. Jones waved a deprecating hand. His tall, dark, plump face wore a happy expression.
'No, indeed, Mr. Fitzwilliam. This is a quiet spot, you know. We are always glad to see a stranger.'
'It's a fascinating part of the world,' said he. 'Full of superstitions.'
Mr. Jones sighed and said it took a long time for education to eradicate superstition.
Luke remarked that he thought education was too highly rated nowadays, and Mr. Jones was slightly shocked by the statement.
'Lord Easterfield,' he said, 'has been a handsome benefactor here. He realizes the disadvantages under which he himself suffered as a child, and does everything to favour the youth nowadays.'
'These initial disadvantages did't stop him making a great fortune,' said Luke.
'No, he's got capacity… a great capacity.'
'Or luck,' said Luke.
Jones seemed somewhat shocked.
'Luck is what counts,' Luke went on. 'Look at a murderer, for example. Why is a murderer successful and escapes? Is it for his hability? O just pure luck?'
Jones admitted that it was probably luck and Luke went on:
'Look at someone like this Carter, the pub owner. This man was probably drunk six nights a week, and then one night tumbles from the bridge into the river. Luck again.'
'Good luck for some.'
'Pardon me?'
'For his wife and daughter.'
'Oh, yes. Of course.'
A clerk knocked and came in, bringing some papers. Luke signed twice and got his cheque-book. He got up.
'Well, I am glad that everything is in order. I had a lot of luck this year at the races. How about you?'
Jones said smiling that he wasn't a gambling man. He added that Mrs. Jones had a very particular point of view about this subject.
'So I suppose that you didn't watch the Great Cup?'
'Actually, no.'
'Someone from here went?'
'Major Horton went. He is quite a clever bet. And Mr. Abbot normally doesn't work on this day. But he didn't spot the winner.'
'I don't think many did,' said Luke and took leave.
He lighted a cigarrette as he left the bank. Leaving the least probable person theory aside, he didn't see a reason for keeping Mr. Jones on his suspect list. The bank manager hadn't had any reaction to the questions Luke put to him. It seemed completely impossible to think of him as a murderer. Furthermore, he hadn't been away on the day of the Great Cup. Accidentally, Luke's visit hadn't been lost; he got two informations. Both Major Horton and Mr. Abbot, the lawyer, had been away from Wychwood on the day of the Great Cup. Any of them could therefore have been in London when Mrs. Fullerton had been run over by a car.
Even though he didn't suspect Dr. Thomas at the moment, he would be more satisfied if he knew for sure that he had been in Wychwood, performing his duties, on that day. He noted down mentally the necessity of verifying this point. There was also Ellworthy. Had he been in Wychwood on that day? If he had, the assumption that he was the murderer would become much weaker. Nut there was, of course, the possibility of Mrs. Fullerton's
