Death and the Maiden (28 page)

Crete followed this road. In the bend a car was drawn up. Crete began to whistle the tune of a popular song. Out from the car came a man's hand, and out of the hand fell a letter. The car, which was facing the same way as Crete and the advancing Mrs Bradley, then drove off. Crete stooped, picked up the letter, and walked straight on in the wake of the car.

Greatly intrigued by these manœuvres, Mrs Bradley, who felt that she had seen all there would be to see, turned at once, and returned to Winchester by the way she and Crete had both come. By the time Crete reached the hotel, Mrs Bradley was upstairs, and she descended, as though for the first time that morning, to discover Crete at the vestibule sideboard on which it was Thomas' custom to place the newspapers and the letters of the guests.

Crete looked up and wished Mrs Bradley a very bright good-morning. It was clear she did not know she had been followed. Mrs Bradley responded with suitable enthusiasm, and, immediately after breakfast, rang up Gavin at his hotel. He came round to the
Domus
at a quarter past eleven, so that it looked as though he had merely dropped in for a drink. She outlined to him the provisions of the will, and detailed her conversations with Arthur and Mrs Preece-Harvard.

‘But that's what you thought,' said Gavin, referring to all Mrs Bradley's conclusions. Mrs Bradley agreed.

‘Have you found the stone with which the dog was killed? And have you found out who moved the dog and when?' she enquired. ‘I shall be interested to see the stone when you find it. It will certainly – well,
almost
certainly, let us say – be found at the bottom of the river. To-morrow I shall go fishing.'

‘I could come with you.'

‘No, no. To-morrow perhaps you had better come nowhere near me at all.'

‘Right. Forgive me for asking, but have you ever done any fishing?'

‘A little. Enough to know how to make a cast.'

‘I'll let you have some of my flies. Do you want to borrow a rod? Tell me what your idea is.'

‘I think it is time the murderer realized that I am dangerous, and had the chance to knock me on the head.'

‘Oh, but look here, I say, you must be careful! It wouldn't do—'

Mrs Bradley cackled, and poked the young man in the ribs.

‘Talking of accidents,' she said, ‘you haven't yet told me all about the nymph who caused you to get so wet. You remember? You came to the hotel—'

‘And Thomas put me in here, in the smoke-room, and told me not to move out of it because of the hotel carpets! Yes, I remember, of course. Well, you remember that at just after five it came on to rain?'

‘Yes, of course I remember. And you went in after the nymph. That, too, I know. But where exactly did you see her?'

‘You know that little road which connects the Southampton Road with the new by-pass? It runs past the swimming pool and over a couple of bridges. Well, beside the first bridge there is an old, broken, wooden footbridge under which the stream is fast and a good bit deeper than one imagines, and rather narrow.

‘Until the rain came on, it was pleasant there, and I was standing on the wooden bridge, looking fairly aimlessly at the water, when I spotted a sort of commotion. I watched, and the sedgy reeds parted and I saw – I swear it! – a woman's head with fairish hair coloured something between the green of an olive and the yellow of a dead wild-iris leaf. It was gone the next second, but I heard a laugh, and then an exclamation in Greek.'

‘In Greek?'

‘In ancient Greek, too! “Too cold and chilly,” was
the exact exclamation I heard. At least, that would be the translation.'

‘It sounds like a quotation from the
Frogs
of Aristophanes, does it not? “Too cold and chilly,” is a line in the
Frogs
, I think.'
*

‘It is most likely. I do know, anyhow, that I agreed with the remark when I had lowered myself into the stream. I hadn't stopped to think before that! I was anxious only to find this naiad who spoke Greek.'

‘Did she fly from you as soon as you entered the stream?'

‘I don't know, but I didn't find her. The stream was deeper than I thought, and it was running pretty fast, and I was wading against the current. I caught just a glimpse of her, you know, while I was still on the bridge, or perhaps that was only my fancy. Anyway, it was apparent that there was nothing more to see, except old Tidson, who was very calmly fishing from behind a clump of tall reeds. He cast very badly, as a matter of fact, and nearly hooked me. I can easily understand he hooked his hat! I climbed out near to where he was, and told him I'd seen the nymph and had even heard her speak. I asked him whether he'd spotted anything moving, but he said he hadn't seen a thing, except a very impressive trout which he insisted upon describing in far too elaborate detail. He did say that he had heard a voice coming across the water, but that he hadn't really taken any notice. At the time he heard it, he thought that this special trout had taken his fly, and he wasn't in the least interested in anything else in the world.'

‘What kind of fly?'

‘A hackle caperer, he said. What difference does it make?'

‘I should have thought it might have been a sherry spinner at this time of year, that's all. But pray go on with your story.'

‘Well, there isn't much more to tell. I felt compelled to apologize to Tidson for walking about where he was fishing, but he seemed to have taken it all in pretty good part, and the last I saw of him was when he began packing up his
belongings to go home. I came on here to see you, and that was that.'

‘Interesting,' said Mrs Bradley. ‘I must see what Mr Tidson has to add to it all. It would be a pity if, after all this time, he had lost the chance of seeing his nymph. I should call it quite unbearable, in fact.'

The inspector looked her straight in the eye.

‘And, after that masterly display of side-stepping, what do you
really
think?' he demanded. ‘I suppose you mean that the nymph I heard and half-saw was Mrs Tidson, but, if so, what was she up to?'

‘Trying to work herself up to the point of committing suicide, perhaps,' said Mrs Bradley. Gavin looked at her, but she seemed to be thoroughly in earnest.

‘Weave your spells,' he said. ‘I am your attentive and open-mouthed listener. Go ahead, please, and be as theoretical as ever you like. After all, the atom bomb began as a theory, I suppose.'

‘So, probably, did the conception of good and evil,' Mrs Bradley remarked. ‘Light your pipe, then, child, and let us be cosy. First, though, what about the dog?'

Gavin took out his pipe.

‘Ah, yes, the dog,' he said. ‘I've been asking the local people more about it. They are confident that the wretched carcase was not there at the time, or immediately after, the boy Biggin's body was found, and the vet. says the dog had not been dead as long as that, and that agrees with the post-mortem.'

Before this entrancing subject could develop, Mr Tidson came into the smoke-room.

‘I can't find Thomas,' he said.

‘Ah,' said Mrs Bradley, not at all taken aback by his sudden appearance, although Gavin wondered how much he had heard from outside the door, ‘You are just the person, Mr Tidson! You now have ample confirmation of the presence of your naiad in the Itchen. Mr Gavin has not only seen her, but he has heard her speak.'

‘That wasn't the naiad. That was Crete,' said Mr Tidson snappishly. ‘I
told
her the water was too cold, and that
bathing wasn't permitted. I am really rather cross with Crete. I wish you would speak to her for her good. As a doctor, I mean. She has a high temperature and a cold in the head to-day. I don't care for a snuffling wife. It is most annoying when people sniff, and complain of a headache, and all through their own fault, too! If she
must
bathe, she ought to go to Bournemouth. I won't have her frightening the fish!'

Mrs Bradley said that she was sorry to hear that Mrs Tidson had taken cold, and that the bathing at Bournemouth was enjoyable, but that it seemed a long way to go for a swim, although Connie Carmody had done it.

‘At any rate, it will teach her not to make fun of my nymph,' went on Mr Tidson. ‘I dislike practical joking, especially on subjects of academic interest.'

‘Talking of those,' said Mrs Bradley, ‘I am still most intrigued by those contusions you all sustained on the morning after the night when I threw the nail-brush. Do you remember? Not that I intended
that
as a practical joke, but it must have seemed rather like it.'

Mr Tidson looked bewildered.

‘When you threw—?' he said, blinking, as though he found her statement too difficult to follow.

‘Yes. An intruder or marauder, or even—' She paused and eyed him beadily.

‘Or even?' said Mr Tidson boldly.

‘Or even a murderer, entered the room I had exchanged for my own, and I threw the soap. It slipped, so I tried the nailbrush. It got home. Next morning Connie, you and your wife, and even poor Miss Carmody, all had bruises on the face. Do you remember?'

‘I remember Crete's criminal carelessness,' said Mr Tidson. ‘And I remember that we explained to you what had happened. But why did you throw anything at all at the intruder? Would it not have been better to arouse the household? – Perhaps not, though, as it wasn't a private house. Were you much alarmed? I suppose you must have been. And how did you come to be near the nailbrush to throw it?'

‘Well, Connie complained of ghosts,' said Mrs Bradley, ‘and we exchanged rooms. It occurred to me that she might have been the victim of an intentional intrusion, so I thought I would wait up to find out what happened, or, rather, whether anything
would
happen.'

‘And somebody really came in?'

‘Yes, by way of the air-raid-precautions passage, which, later, upon my representations, the management kindly blocked up.'

‘Really?'

‘And next day you all had those bruises.'

‘Even Connie!' said Mr Tidson with meaning. ‘Yes, even Connie,' Mrs Bradley agreed.

‘But only one person entered the room that night?'

‘Precisely. Only one person.'

‘Coincidence,' said Mr Tidson, with a shrug.

‘She must have had a
very
long arm to black four people's eyes on the same morning,' said Gavin. Mr Tidson turned round on him at once.

‘In a city which harbours a naiad in a chalk stream,
anything
may happen,' he said in a tone of reproof; but before he could continue he heard Thomas come into the vestibule, and, breaking off his remarks, he darted to the door to waylay him.

‘There
is
one more thing,' said Mrs Bradley, when Mr Tidson, having demanded an ABC time-table from Thomas, had gone off to the lounge to peruse it. She described the early-morning walk on which she had followed Crete Tidson out of the town.

‘And somebody in a car brought her a letter?' said Gavin. ‘What do you make of it? – an assignment? She's a very beautiful woman, and Tidson isn't very exciting, I imagine.'

‘Well, whatever I make of it,' said Mrs Bradley, ‘this peculiar case is mostly guess-work.'

‘Then you
do
make something of it? – Come on! You agreed to put your cards on the table.'

‘Right. I should not be at all surprised if the letter did not contain a message from Connie Carmody.'

‘But isn't Miss Connie Carmody supposed to dislike and
distrust the Tidsons? I understood that she was afraid of Mr Tidson, in fact.'

‘She gave that impression, but their interests in some matters are the same.'

‘You mean she is jealous of the boy, young Preece-Harvard, and the Tidsons want his money? I'd like to have a look at that letter.'

‘There is no need to trouble about that. I can guess what was in it. You might be able to trace the man who brought the letter, but I don't really think that is necessary. If the letter was what I think, we shall prove it from the Tidsons' reactions, particularly those of Crete. I should not be surprised if she is getting rather tired of the business.'

‘She wouldn't give the whole thing away if we pressed her hard, I suppose?'

‘I doubt it. It would make her an accessory. Besides, whatever she might tell us, I doubt whether she could prove it. The murderer has made one bad although unavoidable mistake, but I don't think Crete was there, and I don't think she knows how significant it was.'

‘How do you mean – a bad mistake?'

‘In killing the second boy. I don't think that was part of the original plan.'

‘I see. This lad Biggin might have seen the first murder committed, I suppose. He must have been sleeping out, from what we can gather. Is that what you mean?'

‘I should say there was little doubt of it. The boy was in hiding, as you say, from the authorities, and may easily have seen what was done. He may even have tried to threaten the murderer on the strength of it.'

‘It's a plausible theory, anyway. But why kill the first boy? Why have murdered young Grier?'

‘To show how easy it was to kill and not be found out, perhaps!'

‘That's not what you really think. There must be a stronger motive.'

‘Well, there may be an additional motive, but we've nothing to go on. No obvious motive arises, as far as the evidence goes.'

‘You're right there! Nothing adds up. What do you make of the dog?'

‘I think Tidson was the first who found it. It was where the second body was found, or near enough—'

‘How do you know Tidson found it? That seems to me rather far-fetched.'

‘It wouldn't if you had seen him fishing with that old boot to draw a crowd of children to the spot, as Kitty, Laura and Alice did. He wanted the dog to be found and a certain inference to be drawn—'

‘Of course! That the dog had been killed by a sadistic lunatic, and that the same person had killed the boy!'