Part 24 (1/2)

Sebastian Duck shrugged. ”The word 'lost' has many meanings in our world. In a sense we're all lost, aren't we? We imagine-”

William cut him short. ”Is he dead?”

”I'm sorry. Yes, he is.”

William sat back in his chair. ”I believe you're lying.”

Sebastian Duck raised an eyebrow. ”You're distraught, Mr French.”

”I've heard that you know where he is.”

Sebastian Duck's expression was impa.s.sive . ”Oh? And who told you?”

William realised he could not reveal that it was Tilly Curtain. He had promised her he would not say anything about their meeting, and yet he had to say something. He thought of the terms espionage figures used in novels and one came to him. ”A mole,” he said.

The word caused an immediate reaction in Sebastian Duck. ”A mole?” he asked sharply. ”A mole by the name of Tilly Curtain?”

William was no actor, and his face must have given away the secret. ”Well ...” he began.

Sebastian Duck leaned forward. ”Let me tell you something, Mr French. We know about her. Do you know that? We know.”

”Know what?”

Sebastian Duck lowered his voice even further. ”We know that she's not quite what she seems to be.”

William hesitated. ”I don't know what you're talking about. I really don't.”

”Well, let me tell you then. Your friend Miss Curtain is paid by HMG but is also in the pay of ...” Sebastian Duck reached for a tiny packet of sugar, tore it open neatly, and poured it into his half-empty coffee cup. ”Of the Belgians.”

William sat quite still. ”The Belgians? Why?”

Sebastian Duck shrugged. ”What interest do you think the Belgians have in the growth of the influence of Brussels?” He did not wait for an answer. ”Exactly.”

”That is ridiculous,” said William. ”Utterly absurd.”

”In that case, I'll take my leave,” said Sebastian Duck, rising from the table. ”Goodbye.”

William remained where he was. After a minute or two, he took his mobile phone out of his pocket and dialled Tilly Curtain's number.

”Thank heavens you called,' she said. ”I've found out.”

”Found out what?”

”Where Freddie de la Hay is.”

Chapter 73: Chipping Campden.

Everything was now in place for the second stage of Berthea's plan. Once inside the house, Terence, still pale from the shock of seeing the Green Man in the rhododendrons, sat himself down in the kitchen. ”I swear I saw him, Berthy,” he said breathlessly. ”You know me I don't make things up.”

Berthea knew him as well as any sister might be expected to know a brother, and she knew there were no discernible limits to Terence's gullibility and imaginative capability. ”Of course not,” she said. ”The eye tricks us very easily. I quite understand how one might imagine that one has seen the Green Man when there are all those leaves moving about.”

Terence shook his head vigorously, becoming quite agitated. ”It's not a trick of the eye,” he said. ”The Green Man was right there in the flesh. I promise you, Berthy cross my heart he was standing right there, as real as anything. I promise you.”

Berthea spoke calmingly, ”Well, we'll see, won't we? If the Green Man is frequenting your garden, then I'm sure we'll see him again some time.”

Terence appeared mollified. ”I hope so. I really enjoyed our conversation. He gave me a warning, you know.”

Berthea, pouring boiling water into the teapot, affected nonchalance. ”Oh, did he? About what?”

Terence looked at her sideways. ”About somebody in the house who was a danger to me. A traitor, I a.s.sume.”

Berthea glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and saw that he was staring at her. His manner, it seemed, was suspicious. He thinks it's me, she thought with horror. He's got the wrong end of things again.

She quickly served her brother his tea and left the room. In the drawing room she telephoned Lennie Marchbanks and told him to come round immediately. ”Remember,” she said. ”Crop circles.”

About ten minutes later, while Terence was still drinking his tea in the kitchen pondering the Green Man, Berthea imagined Lennie Marchbanks drove up to the house in his ancient silver Volvo. Terence noticed his arrival. ”I must tell Lennie about the Green Man,” he said, rising to his feet. ”He's very interested in these things.”

Lennie came to the door and was admitted to the kitchen. ”Great news, Mr Moongrove,” he said. ”More crop circles!”

In the excitement of this news, the Green Man was quite forgotten. Terence listened entranced as Lennie explained that two new crop circles had been spotted in a field about five miles away. ”I wanted to take you to see them,” he said. ”Sometimes the crops spring up before you have the chance to appreciate them.”

Terence required no persuasion. ”You're very kind, Mr Marchbanks.”

Lennie glanced at Berthea. ”We'll go in my Volvo,” he said. ”I know the way.”

Berthea watched them drive away before going up to the room occupied by Roger and Claire. They had installed desks in the room and she supposed that they would be sitting there reading or working on Roger's magnum opus, which proved to be the case.

”I'm terribly sorry to disturb you,” she said. ”But Terence has had to go off with a friend. He asked me to ask you, though, whether you could possibly meet him for lunch at the Cotswold House Hotel in Chipping Campden.”

Roger looked at her suspiciously. ”Chipping Campden? Why?”

”He mentioned something about wanting to sign some papers,” said Berthea vaguely. ”He hoped that you could all do it over lunch.”

Roger turned and looked at Claire. The mention of signing papers had animated him. ”Of course,” he said. ”We'll be very happy to do that, won't we, Claire?” He turned back to Berthea. ”But how will we get out there?”

”He said that you should take his car,” Berthea answered. ”His Porsche. The keys are in the kitchen. He said go out there and wait for him. He hasn't booked a table but he thinks it will be all right.”

Roger and Claire got up from their seats and began to prepare for their departure, ignoring Berthea's presence. Berthea went downstairs and looked at her watch. She had asked Lennie Marchbanks to make sure that he was away a good half hour. That would give Roger and Claire time to get ready and then drive off in the Porsche.

They left twenty minutes later, and precisely ten minutes after that Lennie Marchbanks' silver Volvo drew up outside the house.

”We were too late,” said Terence as he came into the kitchen with the garagiste. ”The stalks of the oats or whatever had all sprung up again. So disappointing.”

”The s.p.a.cecraft must have nipped in and out,” said Lennie.