Hardcastle's Frustration by Graham Ison Page A

‘So, what can I do to help?’
    â€˜If it wouldn’t be an inconvenience, sir, I’d like to keep observation from your front room. It should only be for a short period.’
    â€˜No trouble at all, my dear fellow,’ said Darke warmly, secretly glad to be involved in what he imagined as assisting in the defeat of the Hun. ‘Come this way.’ He showed Wood into the parlour where a fire was crackling in the grate. He saw Wood glance at an assegai mounted above the fireplace. ‘That was a trophy I picked up at Spion Kop, Sergeant.’
    â€˜Very good, sir,’ said Wood, although from what little he had heard about the South African conflict, he doubted that the Boers had used spears in their fight against the British.
    â€˜You’ll notice that Mrs Darke insists on net curtains, so you’ll be able to see without being seen, what?’
    â€˜That’s splendid, sir, but I don’t want to cause you or your good lady any trouble.’
    â€˜Good heavens, Sergeant, it’s no trouble. Only too pleased to be able to do something to help. I’ll get Mrs Darke to make you a cup of tea. Let me move this chair for you, so you can sit down and keep watch.’
    â€˜That’s very kind, sir, and thank you.’ Wood slipped off his raincoat and settled down for what he hoped would not be too long a period of time.
    Ten minutes later the parlour door opened and a slender grey-haired woman entered.
    â€˜Good morning, Sergeant, I’m Felicity Darke. I’ve brought you some tea. If you’d be so good as to move that small table nearer the window, I can put the tray down next to you.’
    Wood leaped up and moved the table that Mrs Darke had indicated, and took the tray from her.
    â€˜I’ve put a piece of fruit cake on there, too,’ said Mrs Darke. ‘I’m sure you could do with it.’
    â€˜Thank you, Mrs Darke, that’s most kind,’ said Wood.
    For the next hour, Wood maintained a close watch on the house occupied by Gilbert Stroud. He was just beginning to wonder if his quarry did not go to work on a Saturday when he was rewarded by the sight of a man emerging from the house. The man, who fitted the description of Stroud furnished by Catto, began to walk slowly down Caversham Road reading the newspaper that Wood had earlier seen delivered.
    Grabbing his raincoat, Wood moved quickly from his observation point into the hall. Major Darke appeared almost at once.
    â€˜I’m off, sir. Please thank Mrs Darke for the tea and cake.’
    â€˜It’s a pleasure, Sergeant,’ said Darke. ‘I hope that you have a successful conclusion to your enquiries, whatever they are, and do make use of our parlour again if you need to.’
    Putting on his raincoat and cap, Wood emerged from Major Darke’s house just in time to see Stroud turn into London Road.
    Following at a discreet distance, he eventually saw Stroud turn into Richmond Road and finally to Kingston railway station.
    Fortunately there was no queue, and Wood risked moving close enough to hear Stroud ask for a return to Waterloo. Having had the foresight to buy a return ticket when he left London earlier that morning, Wood was able to follow Stroud on to the up-platform without wasting time at the ticket office. He watched his quarry enter a third-class carriage, and got into the compartment next to him, secure in the knowledge that Stroud would not alight at any of the intermediate stations.
    It was a quarter past ten when the train arrived at Waterloo railway station in central London. Wood hurriedly alighted from his compartment, just as Stroud stepped down from his.
    On the concourse, Wood thrust a halfpenny at a newsvendor and grabbed an early edition of that day’s
Evening Standard
. Reading the newspaper as he walked, but keeping an eye on Stroud, Wood scanned the account of the previous night’s raid on Maida Vale by three German Staaken-Zeppelin