‘It looks like a Roman lamp. It’s probably about two thousand years old, maybe more.’
Ashley hastily replaced it on the shelf and continued to look round the room, pausing before the fireplace. A striking coloured print of an ancient temple carved out of red stone bathed in brilliant sunlight hung over the mantelpiece. ‘Petra – The Treasury by David Roberts,’ he read. ‘Is that the place in the poem? You know, The rose-red city of Petra, half as old as time? I like the way the sun brings out the colours in the rock.’ Jack seemed oddly reluctant to comment. ‘Haldean?’
‘It’s not bad,’ he said eventually.
Ashley looked at him in mild surprise. In his experience, Haldean could usually talk the hind leg off a donkey about art. ‘What’s the matter?’
Jack made an obvious effort. ‘Nothing.’ He took a deep breath. ‘It’s a good picture but it’s not the most dramatic angle. If I was painting it, I’d show how it looks when you first see it. There’s a narrow passage through a cleft in the rocks that must run for a mile or more before opening out in front of the building in the picture. It’s a stunning sight.’
Ashley’s surprise increased. ‘Have you been there?’
‘I was there in the war,’ said Jack. ‘I was stationed at Ismailia on the Suez Canal. Most people know the poem about the rose-red city,’ he said, turning away and idly flicking his finger along the spines of the books, ‘but there’s just about every shade of red except rose. Rose makes it sound pretty. It’s not. It’s a harsh, twisted sort of landscape.’
Ashley could virtually hear the full stop at the end of the sentence.
‘D’you know,’ continued Jack, ‘Vaughan must have damn nearly everything ever written about the archaeology of Arabia.’ He took a book from the shelf. ‘Vaughan wrote this. An account of the excavations in Petra in 1897-98, with some notes on the origins of the Nabateans. Published by Wheeler and Street, 1900. I think Mr Vaughan might be a better archaeologist than Lady Stuckley gave him credit for.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Ashley. ‘I’m surprised you’ve never mentioned you’ve been there.’
‘It was a very brief visit.’ Jack replaced the book back on the shelf.
Ashley waited for a moment, shrugged and wandered round the room once more, stopping in front of an unframed, mounted watercolour propped up on a raised reading-stand. It showed an ancient temple, its white stone dazzling in the sun, set against a background of towering red cliffs. On either side of the temple, stretching out in two curved arms, more buildings were carved out of the rock. ‘Is this Petra?’
Jack picked up the picture and frowned. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said after a little while. ‘I don’t recognize it.’
‘It’s an original,’ said Ashley. ‘Who painted it?’
Jack read the signature on the bottom. ‘Someone signing themselves I.E. Simes, R.A. R.A. means Royal Academy, I suppose.’
The door opened and Vaughan came into the room. He stopped as he saw the painting in Jack’s hands. ‘Good morning, gentlemen.’
‘Good morning, sir,’ replied Jack. He replaced the picture on the stand. ‘We were trying to place the temple in this picture.’
Vaughan gave a short laugh. ‘I’d like to know, too. I hope to find out shortly. I’m sorry to keep you waiting but I was down at the boathouse. Now that spring’s well and truly here, I wanted to get a couple of the boats caulked and varnished, but it’s a messy job. I had to change before I came into the house. Do take a seat, gentlemen.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Ashley, sitting down.
Vaughan took a silver cigarette box from the mantelpiece, opening and shutting the box with nervous fingers. ‘Major Haldean, the Superintendent told me you’d be with him.’ He glanced at Ashley. ‘I know you want to ask me about my car, Superintendent, but first of all I’d like a brief word with the Major.’
‘You carry on, sir,’ said Ashley. ‘It’s your house.’
Vaughan sat down. He lit a cigarette, offering the box to Jack and Ashley. ‘I want to apologize, Major, for that disgraceful scene in Claridge’s last week. Durant Craig is a man whose abilities I admire, but his temper can be very difficult. Very difficult, indeed. Perhaps it’s because he’s lived so long abroad, but he’s not a conventional man. He didn’t tell me why he acted as he did but any fancied slight or minor mishap – the sort of thing an ordinary person would laugh off – becomes blown up out of all proportion.’
Jack, aware of Ashley’s curious eyes, shook his head dismissively. ‘It certainly wasn’t your fault, sir.’ He sucked deeply on his cigarette. ‘Let’s forget about it.’
Vaughan looked relieved. ‘It’s very good of you to take it like that, Major.’ He looked at Ashley. ‘Now, Superintendent, I gather you want to talk to me about my car. Have you found it?’
‘In a manner of speaking, sir, but before I ask you for the details, there’s something I’d like to clear up first.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I understand from Major Haldean you were with him at Hammerholt when a car caught fire last night. As you can imagine, sir, we’re trying to piece together the events that led up to the fire. How fast would you say the car was going before the crash?’
Vaughan looked puzzled. ‘I couldn’t possibly guess. I don’t know how the accident happened, if that’s what you mean. I didn’t see the car.’
‘I didn’t mean so much what you saw as what you heard,’ explained Ashley.
Vaughan shot a glance at Jack. ‘What I heard?’ He hesitated. ‘I heard an explosion, of course.’
‘Before the crash, sir,’ Ashley said.
‘Before the crash?’ Vaughan paused. ‘I . . . I don’t think I can help you, Superintendent. I’d only just come on to the terrace when the accident happened.’ He picked at the buttoned arm of his chair. ‘You were there, Major. How fast do you think it was going?’
‘I couldn’t say,’ replied Jack. ‘Obviously it had to be going at a fair old whack.’
Vaughan seemed reassured. ‘It must have been, but I couldn’t possibly say how fast.’
‘So you didn’t hear anything, sir?’
Vaughan concentrated on the buttoned arm of his chair once more. ‘No, I can’t say I did.’
Ashley gave an almost imperceptible shrug in Jack’s direction. ‘Never mind, sir. However, we have reason to believe that it was your car which was destroyed in the fire last night.’
Vaughan looked stunned. ‘My car? It can’t be.’
‘Your car was stolen, wasn’t it, sir?’ Vaughan nodded. ‘Well, it’s our belief that whoever took the car died in the accident.’
‘Died?’
‘So you see, sir, we’re trying to establish who it was.’
Vaughan took a deep breath. ‘If it really was my car, it was Durant Craig.’
‘Durant Craig?’ said Jack sharply. ‘I can’t credit Durant Craig would steal a car.’
Vaughan swallowed. ‘As I said on the telephone, the circumstances were very peculiar.’ He put his hands to his mouth and sat without speaking for a few moments. When he looked up, his face was strained. ‘Look, before I say anything else, I’d like to be sure of my ground. Are you absolutely certain there was a body in the car?’
‘Absolutely certain, sir,’ said Ashley. ‘It was unrecognizable, but we hope to learn more from the post-mortem. However, you think it was Durant Craig?’
Vaughan took a deep breath. ‘It more or less has to be. This is terrible.’ He looked at Ashley helplessly. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Let’s take it in order, sir,’ said Ashley. ‘When did you discover your car was missing?’
‘Just before seven.’ Vaughan shook himself as if collecting his thoughts. ‘Craig did take my car, but you won’t understand why unless I tell you the whole story.’
He stood up and, walking to the desk, picked up the unframed watercolour from the reading-stand. ‘About six weeks ago I received this picture and a letter from a Mr Adler Madison, an American art dealer who specializes in antiquities.’
‘Have you got the letter, sir?’ asked Ashley.
‘It’s here,’ said Vaughan. He opened the desk and, taking out a letter with an American stamp, passed it to Ashley.
‘Adler Madison: Fine Art and Antiquities, 1168, Fourteenth Avenue, Manhattan,’ he read out.
‘As you can see from his letter, Superintendent, Mr Madison stated that he obtained my name and address from the British Museum. They had cited me as an authority on the Nabateans, the ancient inhabitants of Petra. You’ll notice that Mr Madison’s Christian name is Adler,’ he added. ‘It’s a German name and suggests Mr Madison is of Teutonic origin. I must admit I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but it was later to prove important.’ He indicated the letter in Ashley’s hands. ‘You can read it for yourself, Superintendent, but the gist is that Mr Madison stated he was in Arabia in the war, in the region known as the Hejaz.’ He indicated the picture of Petra that hung on the wall. ‘Petra is the most famous city in the area.’ Vaughan smiled fleetingly. ‘I’m sorry if this all seems long-winded, but it is important, I assure you. To understand what followed, you must realize that I have long been interested in the archaeology of the Near East.’
He indicated the painting above the fireplace. ‘Although Petra is mentioned in ancient chronicles such as Strabo and Herodotus, it was lost for many years until its rediscovery by the Swiss adventurer, Burckhardt, in 1812. It’s a wild and remote spot, inhabited, when it’s inhabited at all, only by a handful of nomadic Bedouin. I was fortunate enough to be a junior member of the great expedition led by Brunnow and Von Domaszewski just before the turn of the century. I was able to visit Petra again in 1920 but there is still so much more to learn.’
He leaned forward, his face eager. ‘Perhaps you can understand how I felt when Mr Madison stated that, whilst in the Hejaz during the war, he and a companion, Simes, stumbled across a ruined city.’
He tapped the watercolour in his hand. ‘As I say, he enclosed this picture. It’s a painting of the city that they found. Simes had painted it from memory, so Mr Madison couldn’t swear to its accuracy, but he thought it was a reasonable representation. To find a ruined city would not be remarkable in itself, for there are many such in the Hejaz, but he included photographs of three pieces he’d found there. I now have the pieces in my possession.’ Vaughan leaned forward dramatically. ‘Gentlemen, they are Nabatean!’
He went over to the safe and opened it. He took out a small carved alabaster dish, a tiny jug and a delicately carved ivory amulet in the shape of a scorpion, and placed them on the table.
Jack and Ashley gazed at the pieces in admiration. The alabaster dish had handles in the shape of lions, the jug was painted with an antelope and a tree, but it was the ivory scorpion which drew their attention.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Jack.
Vaughan picked up the scorpion, his fingers lingering over the delicate carving. ‘It is,’ he murmured.
He passed the ivory scorpion to Jack. As Jack held it in the palm of his hand, he could almost believe that the ivory tail would curl in defiance and the black stone eyes glint with threatening life. There was a hole just below the head for a thong to pass through.
‘I believe the purpose of the amulet was to ward off scorpion stings by sympathetic magic,’ said Vaughan, ‘but whatever its purpose, it is an outstanding piece of work.’ He took back the scorpion and replaced it on the table. ‘Mr Madison didn’t realize the significance of his finds for a long time, but can you imagine it?’ His eyes blazed with enthusiasm. ‘A Nabatean site totally unknown to archaeology! I’m not overstating the case to say that this could rival Caernarvon’s finds in the Valley of the Kings. It was imperative that a preliminary expedition be organized at once. Should the site warrant it, I will return to carry out a full-scale excavation.’
‘So what happened then, sir?’ asked Ashley. ‘With this Mr Madison, I mean.’ They seemed to have strayed a long way from a missing Rolls-Royce, but he was interested.
‘I wrote to Mr Madison suggesting that he should come to England at my expense. He cabled to say he would arrive in Southampton on the 26th of this month. I made a reservation in his name at the Savoy.’
‘The day before yesterday,’ said Ashley.
‘Indeed. In the meantime, I had not been idle. There’s a great deal of organization involved in even a small expedition and the person I turned to for help was Durant Craig.’
Jack stirred in his chair and Vaughan looked at him apologetically. ‘I know Durant Craig can be difficult but he’s an absolute fountain of knowledge about Arabia and the Arabs. If he really is dead, he’ll be a tremendous loss. He’d been in charge of the practicalities of my expedition in 1920 and he was the first person I thought of to manage this one. He would take charge of the travel arrangements, the hiring of native workmen, the supply of food and all the other hundred and one essential details. Madison would provide the directions and I would finance the whole venture.’
‘That must be an expensive undertaking, sir,’ said Ashley.
Vaughan shrugged. ‘Fortunately, I am well able to afford it. I suggested that all three of us should meet here yesterday afternoon. The meeting, I am sorry to say, went very badly. So badly it resulted in the loss of my car.’ Vaughan looked at them. ‘I still can’t believe it was my car in the fire.’
‘We haven’t got any definite proof yet, sir,’ said Ashley, ‘but it does seem likely. Tell me about the meeting. There were three of you, yes?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘There was no one else present, sir?’
Vaughan shook his head. ‘No.’
‘I see, sir,’ said Ashley placidly, with an almost imperceptible glance at Jack. He was, Jack knew, thinking of the woman’s footprints. ‘How did your visitors arrive, sir? By car or train?’
‘By train. Brough, my chauffeur, went to meet them. Mr Madison arrived first, on the 1.46, and Craig arrived an hour later.’
‘What went wrong?’ asked Jack.
‘Durant Craig,’ said Vaughan with some bitterness. ‘I knew Craig had a violent temper and was subject to blind prejudices, but I hadn’t realized how much he hated Germans.’
‘Was he still fighting the war, so to speak?’ asked Ashley.
‘Exactly, Superintendent,’ agreed Vaughan heavily. ‘Once Craig realized that Mr Madison was of German origin he abused him in a disgraceful way. You know what he was like, Major Haldean.’
Jack shifted uncomfortably. ‘I suppose so. I don’t really know him.’
‘Don’t you?’ Vaughan looked at him quizzically. ‘I thought . . . Never mind. Things went from bad to worse. We had tea about four o’clock. Craig was decent enough to keep quiet while the servants were in the room but as soon as they left, he started again. He said I’d got him here under false pretences and if he’d known there was a German involved – he actually said bloody Boche – he wouldn’t have wasted his time. Madison, who had kept his temper all afternoon, flared up, and they had a real shouting match. I imagine the servants heard some of that. Anyway, Craig turned on me. He said he’d been to considerable expense over this affair and he expected to be paid for his trouble. I could whistle for the expedition, as he wasn’t going to be involved with any damn Germans. I won’t repeat what he actually said, as it was highly objectionable. I refused to give him a penny. He slammed out of the house, vowing he’d get his own back.’
‘And what time was that, sir?’
‘It would have been about half-past five or so. I felt it necessary to make some sort of apology for Craig’s outrageous behaviour, so Madison stayed for a little while before I sent for the Rolls to have him driven to the station. I was astounded when the chauffeur informed me that the car was gone.’
‘So what do you think happened to it, sir?’ asked Ashley
Vaughan looked acutely uncomfortable. ‘I thought Craig had taken it. He’d threatened to get his own back and it was the sort of high-handed thing he would do.’
Jack look
ed puzzled. ‘I’d agree he was high-handed, Mr Vaughan, but I don’t think Craig would steal your car.’
‘I didn’t say he stole it,’ protested Vaughan. ‘I said he took it. There’s a difference. Durant Craig wanted me to pay him and I refused. Naturally, I don’t imagine that anyone of Mr Craig’s standing and reputation would steal a car worth over three thousand pounds but I can see him keeping it until I paid him what he thought I owed.’
‘Holding it to ransom, you mean?’ said Ashley slowly.
‘Precisely.’
Ashley looked at Jack. ‘What d’you think?’
‘He might do that,’ agreed Jack. ‘Mr Vaughan, did none of the servants see anything?’
‘No. They have their tea about five o’clock or so and were all indoors. My chauffeur doesn’t spend all day in the garage but works as a general handyman, too. I have –’ he stopped and corrected himself ruefully ‘– or had, perhaps I should say, two cars, the Rolls and a two-seater, and the care and maintenance of them only take part of Brough’s time.’
‘Do you know anything of Mr Craig’s personal life, sir?’ asked Ashley. ‘Did he ever mention a wife or a family?’
‘I don’t think so, Superintendent. He lived at his club, The Travellers, when he was in London.’ Vaughan laughed humourlessly. ‘I remember thinking how lucky it was that he was in England.’ He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. ‘I can’t think of much more to add.’
Ashley rose to his feet. ‘You’ve been very helpful, sir. I’d like a word with your servants, if I may. Did your butler serve tea? In that case, I’ll start with him. Would it be possible for me to see him alone?’
‘If necessary,’ said Vaughan. He rang the bell.
‘Thank you, sir. I’d appreciate either you or your chauffeur coming to Hammerholt with me to see if you can positively identify the car.’
Vaughan’s eyebrows rose. ‘From what I saw last night it sounds like an impossible task.’
‘Nevertheless, sir, I’d appreciate it.’
‘Brough better do it,’ said Vaughan after a moment’s thought. ‘He’s far more qualified than I am to give an opinion.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
A Hundred Thousand Dragons Page 6
