had travelled with Humby and knew his passion for speed, and by driving a little faster than usual, he could gain some knowledge of Humbyâs time, provided that Humby did not stop by the way.
The distance was approximately sixty miles over not very fast roads, with a run of about eighteen miles on one of the great motorways. But just after he came through a village called Sneldon, he was thumbed by a young man with a haversack, and decided to give him a lift. The youth accepted this with a nod, and settled down in taciturnity, but the little incident gave Carolus a suggestion which had not yet occurred to him in relation to Humby. Might he not, too, have been thumbed? And by someone expecting him to come this way? Someone who knew his car? Someone who could drive it if Humby was no longer capable of it? Someone who might be identical with the man seen by Stonegate in Church Lane after he had passed Humbyâs car with Humby asleep in it? Guesswork of course, but it could be interesting.
âEver been this way before?â he asked his passenger.
âNo.â
âMaking for the coast?â
âNo.â
âNot very talkative, are you?â
âNo.â
Carolus desisted and ten miles further on was relieved to hear the hitchhiker say, âHere, please.â
Carolus reached the Falstaff just before one, and again lunched there, for he did not wish to reach Monkâs Farm till the afternoon, and had time to kill.
Mr. Sporter was glad to see him.
âThereâs been nothing much doing customer-wise,â he said. âItâs a bad time of year for us. Our business in the spring and early summer is fab. Falls off in September.â
âWhat about Christmas?â asked Carolus, who never discouraged loquacity.
âChristmas-wise we do pretty well. Oh, by the way, did you see Stonegate?â
âYes. I gave him a lift here.â
âSo you did. Only heâs in the public bar now. I thought youâd like to know.â
Carolus found Stonegate enjoying one of the Farm Fresh Pork Pies advertised on the bar, and washing it down with a pint of bitter.
âNow letâs see,â he said importantly. âWhich was you? Television was it, or the old-fashioned radio? No. I remember now. Youâre Private Enquiries, arenât you? Iâve had such a lot of them I canât remember it all. And the police donât hardly give me any peace. There was one along this morning with a picture of the chap I saw in the car to see if I recognised it.â
âAnd did you?
âCourse I did. It was him as plain as a pikestaff.â
âMr. Stonegate â¦â
âYouâre lucky to catch me here. I donât often come up at midday, only Dollâs gone over to her friend Fredeâs at Swanwick. What was it you wanted to know this time?â
âDo you work on Sunday mornings, Mr. Stonegate?â
âDo I work on Sunday mornings? Whatâs that got to do with it? I was the last to see that chap alive. Thatâs what I was.â
âI know. I was thinking of something else. You may have other important information without knowing it. I should have said, were you up at Monkâs Farm on the Sunday, the day before you found that car in the lane?â
âI was.â
âWas everything as usual?â
âPretty well. Except this chap Darkin went off to chapel in his bossâs car.â
âMr. Grossiter had a car at the farm then?â
âYes. He came in it. Itâs there now as a matter of fact because this chap Darkinâs still up there. Big car, it is. Like a Rolls Royce.â
Carolus smiled.
âThereâs no car
like
a Rolls Royce,â he said.
âThen it is a Rolls Royce. This Darkin went off to chapel in his bossâs car.â
âHow do you know?â
âBecause the missus was Chapel, and Doll takes after her. I donât hold with it myself. Too much hymn-singing for me,
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