Part 28 (1/2)
”I know that.”
”I mean what I remember.”
Sloan did not attempt to sort this out. He was now too busy wis.h.i.+ng he had led a better life-time for reform having obviously run out.
The car swerved dangerously. 've got it, sir.”
”Have you?” muttered Sloan between clenched teeth. ”Then slow down.” He started to breathe again as the fields stopped flas.h.i.+ng by quite so quickly. ”Now tell me.”
”I can't tell you anything, sir,” said Crosby helpfully, ”except that I remember the name.”
”Where?”
”The past.”
”I wish,” said Sloan, made irritable by fear, ”that you would stop saying that.”
”I mean, sir”-Crosby was never good at explanations- ”when I was trying to learn about the past.”
”Light is beginning to dawn, Crosby. Go on.”
”It all started when I didn't know who George Smith was, sir.”
I'm not sure that I do either.”
”He drowned his wives,” said Crosby reproachfully. ”All of them.”
”Oh, him.”
”Yes, sir, but I didn't know at the time and they pulled my leg a bit at the Station.”
”I'll bet they did.”
”Every time anyone mentioned the word 'bath.' So Sergeant Gelven-he said if I was ever going to get anywhere, I'd better read up famous cases.”
”The Tichborne Claimant,” remembered Sloan suddenly. ”That's how you knew about that...”
”Yes, sir.”
”But,” puzzled, ”how does Mantriot come in?”
”It's not a Famous Case, sir, I do know that.”
”Not yet it isn't,” retorted Sloan, ”but I shouldn't count on it staying that way.”
”So it must be a local one. After I'd done the others, sir, I went back through the Calles.h.i.+re records. That's where I've seen the name, I'm sure.” Crosby spotted a rival county's ratrap and slowed down. ”But I don't remember when or where.”
”We'll soon find out,” said Sloan pleasantly. ”You can go through them again until you find it.”
Superintendent Leeyes's afternoon cups of tea were rather like American television shows which went from the late show to the late, late show to the late, late, late show thence merging imperceptibly into the early, early, early show, the early, early show and naturally enough the early show. His tea went on the same principle-the after lunch cup, the early Afternoon cup, the middle of the afternoon one and so forth. It was impossible for Sloan and Crosby to guess which one he was at when they arrived back in Berebury.
”We've got him,” announced Leeyes triumphantly.
Sloan shook his head. ”I should say that gift lets Hibbs out.”
”And I should say,” retorted Leeyes robustly, ”that it lets him in.”
”I'll go down there at once, sir, and see.”
”There's one other thing, Sloan...”
”Sir?”
”This girl-I think she's starting to imagine things now...”
”I should very much doubt that.”
”You sent her away from home last night.”
”I tried to. I don't know if she went but I told P. C. Hepple he was to keep an eye on her if she didn't.”
”She did. To the Rectory. But she and the Thorpe boy went back to Boundary Cottage after lunch.”
”Yes?” said Sloan alertly.
”He rang up about an hour ago to say the girl swears someone's been in the cottage overnight.”
Sloan expired audibly. ”I thought they might. That's why...”
”Someone's got a key,” snapped Leeyes. ”We've known that all along. Why didn't you have the lock changed?”
”I wanted them to show their hand,” said Sloan simply. ”And they have.”
Sunday was Sunday as far as James Hibbs and his wife were concerned. It was late afternoon when Sloan and Crosby arrived at The Hall. This time, being Sunday, they were shown into the drawing room. Tea at The Hall on Sundays would always be in the drawing room. Tea this afternoon had been eaten but not cleared away. A beautiful Georgian silver teapot graced the tea tray, some sandwiches and a jar of Gentleman's Relish stood beside it Sloan hankered after the sandwiches but not the tea. He had had some tea from a teapot like that once before-pale, straw-coloured stuff with a sinister taste. He had not been at all surprised to learn that it had come from China.
The two policemen were invited to sit on the large sofa in front of the fire. Their combined weights sank into it. Constable Crosby was the heavier of the two which gave Sloan's sitting position an odd list to starboard. No one could have described it as an advantageous situation from which to conduct an interview in what Sloan now knew to be a double murder case.
His tone was sharper than it had been earlier.
”You said before, sir, that you had never seen Mrs. Grace Jenkins until she came to Larking.”
”Actually,” said Hibbs mildly, ”I don't think I saw her until quite a while afterwards. I was away myself, you know, at the time. I told you, if you remember, my old agent fixed up the tenancy.”
”Yes, sir, you did. You showed me a letter.”
”Ah, yes.”