to read it in the kind of setting Dickson Carr describes, after dinner, around the glow of a table lamp, with the wine bottles empty and coffee on the table and snowflakes drifting past the windows. But I suppose a church crypt is not a bad alternative."
With his audience well primed for the treat in store, Milo opened the book and glanced first at the Contents page. He turned to the right chapter. Then he blinked, frowned, and said, "How odd. I don't remember using this as a book-mark." He picked an envelope from between the pages and glanced at it.
He went silent. The envelope was yellow with age, the address in fine copperplate so faded that it was barely legible. In the top right corner was a single postage stamp with the head of Queen Victoria on a black background and the words ONE PENNY along the lower border. The stamp was overprinted with a cancellation mark saying PAID. Just below and to the right was the postmark, remarkably even and clear:
BATH
MY 2
1840
Chapter Twelve
"It's impossible," said Milo, blushing deeply. He stared at the flimsy envelope lying across the open book. "Impossible."
Miss Chilmark, seated on his left, had her hand pressed to her mouth. She swayed away from Milo as if he were contagious. A second bout of hyperventilation could not be ruled out.
On Milo's other side, Jessica took a long look and then raised her eyebrows across the circle at the others seated opposite.
"What is it?" Polly asked. "What have you got there, Milo?"
Rupert, having leaned across Jessica to see for himself, said, "Hey ho. What a turnup!"
"Somebody tell me," said Polly, becoming petulant.
"It would appear to be the missing Penny Black," said Rupert. "Milo, my old fruit, I salute you. I wouldn't have dreamed that you of all people would turn out to be the most wanted man in Bath."
"But I didn't steal it," Milo blurted out. "I'm no thief."
"You're among friends." Rupert went on as if he hadn't heard. "If we're honest, most of us have a sneaking admiration for you. This was brilliantly worked out. You don't need to say any more. Just shut the book, and we'll all behave as if nothing happened."
Milo's hands were shaking. He fumbled with the book and practically knocked the envelope to the floor.
"Careful!" said Jessica. "It's worth a fortune."
"I didn't take it," Milo insisted. "I don't know anything about this."
"You can be frank with us," said Jessica. "Rupert's right. We'll stand by you if you promise to give it back and say no more about it. We can keep a secret. That's a fair offer, isn't it?" She appealed to the rest of the circle.
"But I've done nothing wrong," Milo shrilled. "This is the first time I've ever laid eyes on the thing. Really."
"How did it get into your book?" asked Shirley-Ann.
"I haven't the faintest idea."
"None of us could have slipped it between the pages," said Polly, and then undermined the statement by adding, "Could we?"
"It's been here on my lap all the time," said Milo. "I'm not accusing any of you, but someone planted it on me, and I'd like to know how."
"What about when Marlowe came in and upset Miss Chilmark?" Shirley-Ann suggested. "In the confusion—"
"No," Milo interrupted her. "I kept hold of the book. I didn't leave my chair. It must have been done before I got here, but I can't fathom how. Someone must have broken into my boat. Oh dear, this is so distressing."
Shirley-Ann recalled being told that Milo lived on a narrowboat on the canal. "Have you had any visitors lately? Anyone you left alone for a few minutes?"
"Not for weeks."
"Do you lock the boat when you're not there?"
"Of course. I have a damned great padlock. I carry the key on my key ring." He produced it from his pocket. "This one. You see? I bought it from Foxton's. You get a guarantee that no other lock with a similar key has been sold from the same shop—and they're the only people who sell them in the west of England." He sighed heavily. "What am I going to do?"
"Go to the police," said
With his audience well primed for the treat in store, Milo opened the book and glanced first at the Contents page. He turned to the right chapter. Then he blinked, frowned, and said, "How odd. I don't remember using this as a book-mark." He picked an envelope from between the pages and glanced at it.
He went silent. The envelope was yellow with age, the address in fine copperplate so faded that it was barely legible. In the top right corner was a single postage stamp with the head of Queen Victoria on a black background and the words ONE PENNY along the lower border. The stamp was overprinted with a cancellation mark saying PAID. Just below and to the right was the postmark, remarkably even and clear:
BATH
MY 2
1840
Chapter Twelve
"It's impossible," said Milo, blushing deeply. He stared at the flimsy envelope lying across the open book. "Impossible."
Miss Chilmark, seated on his left, had her hand pressed to her mouth. She swayed away from Milo as if he were contagious. A second bout of hyperventilation could not be ruled out.
On Milo's other side, Jessica took a long look and then raised her eyebrows across the circle at the others seated opposite.
"What is it?" Polly asked. "What have you got there, Milo?"
Rupert, having leaned across Jessica to see for himself, said, "Hey ho. What a turnup!"
"Somebody tell me," said Polly, becoming petulant.
"It would appear to be the missing Penny Black," said Rupert. "Milo, my old fruit, I salute you. I wouldn't have dreamed that you of all people would turn out to be the most wanted man in Bath."
"But I didn't steal it," Milo blurted out. "I'm no thief."
"You're among friends." Rupert went on as if he hadn't heard. "If we're honest, most of us have a sneaking admiration for you. This was brilliantly worked out. You don't need to say any more. Just shut the book, and we'll all behave as if nothing happened."
Milo's hands were shaking. He fumbled with the book and practically knocked the envelope to the floor.
"Careful!" said Jessica. "It's worth a fortune."
"I didn't take it," Milo insisted. "I don't know anything about this."
"You can be frank with us," said Jessica. "Rupert's right. We'll stand by you if you promise to give it back and say no more about it. We can keep a secret. That's a fair offer, isn't it?" She appealed to the rest of the circle.
"But I've done nothing wrong," Milo shrilled. "This is the first time I've ever laid eyes on the thing. Really."
"How did it get into your book?" asked Shirley-Ann.
"I haven't the faintest idea."
"None of us could have slipped it between the pages," said Polly, and then undermined the statement by adding, "Could we?"
"It's been here on my lap all the time," said Milo. "I'm not accusing any of you, but someone planted it on me, and I'd like to know how."
"What about when Marlowe came in and upset Miss Chilmark?" Shirley-Ann suggested. "In the confusion—"
"No," Milo interrupted her. "I kept hold of the book. I didn't leave my chair. It must have been done before I got here, but I can't fathom how. Someone must have broken into my boat. Oh dear, this is so distressing."
Shirley-Ann recalled being told that Milo lived on a narrowboat on the canal. "Have you had any visitors lately? Anyone you left alone for a few minutes?"
"Not for weeks."
"Do you lock the boat when you're not there?"
"Of course. I have a damned great padlock. I carry the key on my key ring." He produced it from his pocket. "This one. You see? I bought it from Foxton's. You get a guarantee that no other lock with a similar key has been sold from the same shop—and they're the only people who sell them in the west of England." He sighed heavily. "What am I going to do?"
"Go to the police," said
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