saw? Nobody moving about?’
‘I didn’t care to go close enough to look,’ said Miss Mildred, with dignity. ‘And I couldn’t wait to see if anyone came round into the front garden. I had to hurry. By the time I got to the station the train had gone, and I met Sister on the road.’
‘Did you tell her about the light?’
‘Oh, yes. She said it would be silly to go and look, but we must tell Bob Crawley. That’s the policeman, he’s new since you were here. Such a nice young man, and with two dear little children, twins, a boy and a girl, and so keen on his garden, Bob, I mean, not the twins, and I was able to give him a lot of nice plants when they first moved in, and he has really got it beautiful now, even though it is mostly vegetables.’
‘And you told him what you’d seen?’
‘Yes. That is, young Freddie Smart – you’ll have met him, the porter at the station – came by on his bike; hegoes home after the last train, and we asked him to call at Lane Ends on his way home, and tell Bob. And Bob went down to Rose Cottage straight away. He went past while we were having supper. He went all round and he came in on his way back and said nothing was disturbed that he could see, except that someone had been digging round the back, near the toolshed. So you see, I must have been right.’
‘Digging?’ I said blankly. It had already occurred to me that what she had seen might just have been Davey fetching the tools, but then what would he have been digging for, and after dark, too?
‘That’s what he said. Digging, just by the toolshed. Bob did ask Davey Pascoe about it, because he knew Davey had got your grandfather’s things from the shed, but that was last week – you did know about that, dear? That your grandmother had said Davey might take the tools and things from the shed?’
‘Yes, I—’
A piercing shriek startled us both to our feet. It came from behind the hedge that separated Miss Mildred’s garden from the one next door, where Miss Linsey lived. As we both hurried to the hedge to see what violent crime was being committed behind it, a head appeared over the top, and said in a voice that would have made a fortune for a tragic actress, ‘I’ve found him!’
12
I had not seen Miss Linsey for some years, but she had not changed at all. She was of middle height, middle age, medium build, but nothing else about her was medium, except perhaps in the professional sense of the word. She had a thin face, with a prominent aquiline nose, and myopic, rather mad-looking eyes, and she was in the habit, probably because of the myopia, of poking her head forward and fixing you with a fiercely intent stare, much as a large hawk stares down its beak at the prey it has marked down. Her hair was pepper-and-salt, fair turning grey, and was usually frizzed out into an old-fashioned coiffure rather like a bird’s nest, but just now it was straggling in a wild tangle, as she had, quite literally, been through a hedge with it. She was holding something up in both hands, and repeating in triumph, ‘I’ve found him! He was just coming back through the hedge! He’s been in your garden all the time!’
‘Who has?’ asked Miss Mildred, looking bewildered.
‘Henry! If he’s had your sweet peas I’m sorry – he does so love sweet peas, and when they’re so near the fence – such a temptation! I did put wire netting right along there, but he finds a way through anything. Naughty, naughty Henry! Oh hullo, is that Kathy Welland? Annie Pascoe said you were here. I’d love a little talk with you, but I can’t ask you in to coffee because I’ve run out, and I’ve no biscuits, but some other time soon, perhaps—’
‘Thank you, I’m on my way home now, anyway. Do tell, who is Henry?’
‘Oh, well, half a mo, I’ll come round. Really, Mildred, I’d have thought you’d have seen him, he’s been gone nearly a week, and …’ The voice trailed away as its owner turned and vanished once more
‘I didn’t care to go close enough to look,’ said Miss Mildred, with dignity. ‘And I couldn’t wait to see if anyone came round into the front garden. I had to hurry. By the time I got to the station the train had gone, and I met Sister on the road.’
‘Did you tell her about the light?’
‘Oh, yes. She said it would be silly to go and look, but we must tell Bob Crawley. That’s the policeman, he’s new since you were here. Such a nice young man, and with two dear little children, twins, a boy and a girl, and so keen on his garden, Bob, I mean, not the twins, and I was able to give him a lot of nice plants when they first moved in, and he has really got it beautiful now, even though it is mostly vegetables.’
‘And you told him what you’d seen?’
‘Yes. That is, young Freddie Smart – you’ll have met him, the porter at the station – came by on his bike; hegoes home after the last train, and we asked him to call at Lane Ends on his way home, and tell Bob. And Bob went down to Rose Cottage straight away. He went past while we were having supper. He went all round and he came in on his way back and said nothing was disturbed that he could see, except that someone had been digging round the back, near the toolshed. So you see, I must have been right.’
‘Digging?’ I said blankly. It had already occurred to me that what she had seen might just have been Davey fetching the tools, but then what would he have been digging for, and after dark, too?
‘That’s what he said. Digging, just by the toolshed. Bob did ask Davey Pascoe about it, because he knew Davey had got your grandfather’s things from the shed, but that was last week – you did know about that, dear? That your grandmother had said Davey might take the tools and things from the shed?’
‘Yes, I—’
A piercing shriek startled us both to our feet. It came from behind the hedge that separated Miss Mildred’s garden from the one next door, where Miss Linsey lived. As we both hurried to the hedge to see what violent crime was being committed behind it, a head appeared over the top, and said in a voice that would have made a fortune for a tragic actress, ‘I’ve found him!’
12
I had not seen Miss Linsey for some years, but she had not changed at all. She was of middle height, middle age, medium build, but nothing else about her was medium, except perhaps in the professional sense of the word. She had a thin face, with a prominent aquiline nose, and myopic, rather mad-looking eyes, and she was in the habit, probably because of the myopia, of poking her head forward and fixing you with a fiercely intent stare, much as a large hawk stares down its beak at the prey it has marked down. Her hair was pepper-and-salt, fair turning grey, and was usually frizzed out into an old-fashioned coiffure rather like a bird’s nest, but just now it was straggling in a wild tangle, as she had, quite literally, been through a hedge with it. She was holding something up in both hands, and repeating in triumph, ‘I’ve found him! He was just coming back through the hedge! He’s been in your garden all the time!’
‘Who has?’ asked Miss Mildred, looking bewildered.
‘Henry! If he’s had your sweet peas I’m sorry – he does so love sweet peas, and when they’re so near the fence – such a temptation! I did put wire netting right along there, but he finds a way through anything. Naughty, naughty Henry! Oh hullo, is that Kathy Welland? Annie Pascoe said you were here. I’d love a little talk with you, but I can’t ask you in to coffee because I’ve run out, and I’ve no biscuits, but some other time soon, perhaps—’
‘Thank you, I’m on my way home now, anyway. Do tell, who is Henry?’
‘Oh, well, half a mo, I’ll come round. Really, Mildred, I’d have thought you’d have seen him, he’s been gone nearly a week, and …’ The voice trailed away as its owner turned and vanished once more
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