to
‘You don’t know, of course, where I could get in touch with the headmistress?’
‘I do not, sir. Caravannin’ on the Continent is Miss Golightly, with a couple of lady friends. They’re on the move every day. She’ll be in school a couple of days before the openin’ day of term, according to her usual custom, but apart from that, she can’t be got at nohow.’
He sounded extremely well satisfied with this fact and repeated it, adding that if Vardon knew the Education Office as Butters knew it, he would not be surprised at nothing, and Miss Golightly, she was one with her head screwed on, was Miss Golightly.
Vardon, disgruntled, returned to the police station. Suddenly he said to Darling:
‘You mentioned a young chap told you that Miss Faintley had had some dealings with a fellow you think may be a fence. That sounds an unlikely sort of game for a schoolmistress. Was the chap sure?’
‘Quite sure. Tell you what; I’ll send for him and you can talk to him for yourself. I think he’ll convince you. I’ll stake my reputation he’s telling the truth.’
Mandsell, brought to the police station in a car which had a plain-clothes driver, was briefly introduced by Darling. He saw a big man with a genial appearance and lips which indicated a sense of humour. Vardon saw a medium-sized, rather shabby, likeable young man whose accent betrayed his place of learning.
‘What can I do for you, Inspector? I’ve already told all I know to Mr Darling.’
‘Quite so, sir.’ The West Country voice was soothing. ‘It’s just that I’d like your story at first-hand. Can I have your full name and address for my records?’
‘George Geoffrey Madeston Mandsell. I lodge with a Mr and Mrs Deaks at 31 Upper Bridge Street. I’m a writer.’
‘Very good, sir. And now…’
‘I decided to go out for a walk at about half-past eight on the evening of July 25th. I was going to the library. I’d forgotten it was closed on Thursdays. On my way home I went into the telephone-box half-way along Park Road. I only went in to look up a number, but the telephone buzzed and I picked up the receiver.’
‘Why did you do that, sir?’
‘I don’t know. Itwas subconscious, just a natural reaction. The voice at the other end was Miss Faintley’s, or so it said. It seems as if somebody had made an arrangement that she was to ring up that box at that particular time. People do that sometimes, I believe, if they don’t want to be overheard or if one of them isn’t on the phone. I tried to explain who I was, and that I’d seen a man leave the box a minute before I got there, but she wouldn’t listen.’
‘Oh? You think you saw the man who was to have been her correspondent?’
‘Well, I can’t be sure of that, of course, but it seemed rather likely.’
‘Can you describe him?’
‘No, I’m afraid I can’t. He was about my height, I should say, and youngish… that is to say, probably in his thirties. He had his back to me as he left the box. His hat was pulled down and his coat-collar was right up. I guessed he was youngish because of the rate at which he walked.’
‘What did Miss Faintley have to say? It must have seemed to her very important if she would not let you explain who you were.’
‘I don’t know how important it was, really. The only thing I do know is that she seemed in the deuce of a hurry to get the conversation over because there were people about who might come in and overhear her end of it.’
‘And what was her end of it?’
‘She wanted this man, whoever he was, to get a parcel from Hagford railway station and take it to a man called Tomson.’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Well, the next bit may sound rather silly, but, not having much to do next day, I walked over to Hagford, picked up the parcel and bunged it in.’
‘Why?’
‘Same reason as that for which I took the telephone call, I suppose. I can’t really explain it. It just seemed fun at the time and something to do.’
‘Very well, sir. Thank you for your information. You won’t be changing your lodgings at present, sir, I take it?’
‘No, I don’t think so. Why?’
‘Just that we should like to have you around, sir. Your evidence may be very important indeed. Which way was the man going?’
‘Oh, away from the direction of the High Street, but, of course, he’d disappeared by the time I came out of the box.’
‘What do
‘Quite as innocent as he sounds. I wonder what made him go and fetch that parcel, though? It’s a ten-mile tramp there and back.’
‘Curiosity, I expect. He’s a writer. They’re usually a bit romantic in their outlook and do things other people wouldn’t think of doing.’
‘Maybe that’s it. What interests me most is that the parcel had to be delivered to old man Tomson. I told you we’d had our eye on him for receiving. I’ve already looked him up, of course, but come along and see what you make of him. First-hand impressions are always best.’
