by John Creasey
‘Very good, sir,’ said Hardy. He looked at Palfrey with a friendly smile, and went on: ‘Three months ago to the day, Dr. Palfrey, an unidentified man was found dead at the foot of Wenlock Cliff. That particular cliff is near the spot where you had your misadventure last night. There is an inlet, though the sea doesn’t often go right up it, and beneath are rocks on which a man would smash to his death.’ Hardy hesitated, then went on with a frown: ‘There was no evidence of foul play. An open verdict was returned. Three weeks afterwards, quite by accident, we learned that on the same day and about the same time, Miss Loretta Morne had been driving her car when the brakes failed ‘and she narrowly avoided death.’
‘Oh,’ said Palfrey.
‘A week after we learned that,’ went on Hardy, ‘Sir Rufus went on horseback to the cliff. He was seen there talking to a man. That evening, a man’s body was found at the foot of the cliffs. This time there was evidence of foul play – our man Clements and Sir Bertram Miles, who came down to examine the body, agreed that some wounds had been inflicted before the fall. We interviewed Morne, of course. He admitted seeing a man, not necessarily the dead man, and also admitted speaking to him. Morne said that the man he spoke to was a stranger who happened to be on the cliff. We couldn’t disprove that.
‘Then followed the second accident to Miss Morne,’ went on Hardy, ‘the one when her horse fell over the cliff not far away from the same spot and nearly sent her to her death. We have been making inquiries, and learned that Miss Morne had been somewhat abnormal – not her usual self. You realize, don’t you, the difficulty of getting information from such a place and from such people?’
‘Yes,’ said Palfrey.
‘Then came Halsted’s death and your own adventures,’ broke in Cartwright. ‘I told Hardy to take every precaution. It seemed to me that Miss Morne was in grave danger, even at the sanatorium. Her persistent requests to see you suggested that she was going to confide in you, as she had undoubtedly confided in Halsted. We did not want the same thing to happen to you as it did to Halsted, and so we went to extremes last night. I was appalled when I heard about the tea.’
Palfrey smiled. ‘So was I!’
‘There was a little morphine in it,’ Hardy said.
‘Have you seen Ross?’
Hardy laughed. ‘He’s almost beside himself!’
‘I hope he is,’ said Palfrey grimly.
‘But there’s no proof that he put it in or that it was put in at the sanatorium,’ Hardy reminded him. ‘It was in the back of your car while we were shifting Mrs. Palfrey to mine. Then, if you remember, we all stopped at the Wenlock police station and left the cars outside while I arranged for your escort. What about that stranger you picked up?’
Palfrey explained. He talked for some time, and, when he had finished, Hardy and Cartwright had many questions for him. The only thing that he kept back was the suggestion for a rendezvous at Cheddar Gorge.
Only on one matter were the police difficult, and he did not blame them. Knowing that Kyle was going to return for Fyson, Palfrey should have reported at the first opportunity, Cartwright said.
‘The man Fyson would be an invaluable witness,’ put in Hardy.
‘As well as Kyle,’ added Cartwright.
‘Look here,’ said Palfrey, reasoningly. ‘Had Kyle got my wife and me out of the scrape and left us at the foot of the hill, nothing could have prevented him from getting safely away. He put himself in my hands. I played fair. I’ve no doubt I shall meet him again. When I do, I’ll be under no obligation to him, nor he to me.’
‘Why should you meet him again?’
‘He will want to know what else I can tell him.’
‘It isn’t by any means certain,’ complained Cartwright.
‘And there is another thing,’ urged Palfrey. ‘Kyle has his wits about him. If I had tricked him last night, I think he would have got away. He might not have reached Fyson and he might have lost his car, but he would have been very angry and either cut me off his visiting list or been unpleasant. I don’t think it would serve your purpose to have him off my visiting list.’
‘There may be something in that,’ admitted Cartwright.
‘I hope you’ll come to agree that I was right,’ said Palfrey. ‘I think Kyle unimportant compared with the papers which I got from the minstrel gallery,’ he went on, and took the papers from his pocket and handed them to Cartwright.
The Chief Constable’s eyes brightened. He and Hardy turned their attention to the papers. They were as mystified as Palfrey and McDonald had been.
‘We’ll have to get the experts on it. I think you’d better take it to London, Hardy, and see the Yard people. We’ll have to have them down now; we can’t keep it entirely to ourselves, more’s the pity.’
‘It’s time –’ began Hardy.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Palfrey caught sight of a man outside, a man who was tossing something into the room. It was small and dark, skimmed the top of the window, and fell on the table. Palfrey pushed Drusilla off her chair. Hardy made a grab at the thing, but it gave a furious hiss and he backed away. Cartwright ducked. There was a flash, a subdued explosion, and then flames spread everywhere.
7: THE COTTAGE WITH THE PARROT
A paper fluttered down in front of Palfrey’s face. One corner was ablaze. He put out a hand and snatched at it, put that fire out, screwed the paper up and pushed it into his pocket as he scrambled to his feet. The smoke was thick and harsh; the flames were more subdued now, except those on the floor, where they had caught the carpet.
‘Those papers!’ cried Cartwright, in a muffled voice. ‘Damn the flames! Hardy, look for those papers!’
‘I am!’ called Hardy.
‘I’ve got ‘em,’ called Palfrey. ‘Let’s get out.’ He raised his voice, calling ‘Fire’. The door was flung open. The draught fanned the flames; someone shouted; a man rushed in and took Drusilla by the arm and dragged her out. Cartwright was furthest from the door, but moved swiftly. With Hardy and Palfrey, he was jammed in the doorway, and in front of them a man was standing holding a fire-extinguisher.
‘Mind! Out of the way!’ Cartwright cried. ‘Mind!’
They got through into the passage, and the man squirted a foul-smelling chemical on to the flames. Someone else rushed in with great alarm.
McDonald, who had taken Drusilla out of the room, appeared by Palfrey’s side.
‘Did you get the papers?’ Cartwright demanded, smoothing down his hair, which was singed on one side. He made way for another man with a fire-extinguisher, but smoke was driving them further from the room.
‘I got the only one that matters,’ said Palfrey. ‘You’ve still got your copies, Mac, haven’t you?’
‘Safely in my pocket.’
Palfrey took out the tracing paper, and Cartwright said in alarm: ‘It’s burned!’
‘Only at the tip, like my fingers,’ said Palfrey, ‘but we shouldn’t grumble about that. I fancy someone saw you holding it up against the window, Colonel, and acted on impulse. Nice people. Fire bombs to hand, morphine available as required, chloroform on tap, not to mention a so far unidentified poison which killed Halsted.’ He opened the paper out, to smooth it, but stopped and stared down.
‘There’s something on it!’ exclaimed Drusilla.
‘Yes,’ said Palfrey, in a smug voice. ‘The heat brought it out. The simple things!’ He smoothed the paper out and, while people pushed past them and a testy manager complained that they were in the way, they looked at the drawing. It was like the road plan, with short, straight lines leading off from a main line which went from north to south; they knew that because of the only other mark on the paper, the drawing of a compass. ‘Well, we oughtn’t to grumble,’ added Palfrey. ‘What we ought to have done was to get outside and find the customer who started the show. No luck, I suppose?’
‘Hardy didn’t lose any time,’ said Cartwright.
Hardy came back with a negative report. The fire-raiser had been seen from the main
dining-room window, but no one could remember what he looked like. He had gone across the garden, through the small orchard and, presumably, into the town. Hardy said that he would have the whole force out looking for him that afternoon.
‘Well,’ said Palfrey, ‘this looks like our fade-out.’
‘Are you going back to London?’ asked Cartwright.
‘Yes. I must for a day or two.’
It was not difficult to arrange for a colleague to take over his appointments for the following week. Over the week-end, Palfrey saw two or three patients whom he was anxious to treat personally and thus eased his conscience. He was more excited than he allowed Drusilla to see. She, too, was filled with excitement which she tried not to show.
On the Saturday evening he telephoned Hardy, who expressed himself delighted to hear from him. How was progress, asked Palfrey? There wasn’t any progress. Nothing else had happened; nothing had come from the tracing and nothing from the code and cipher. It completely puzzled the cipher experts, in spite of its apparent simplicity. A man in London was still working on it, but was of the opinion that they had not got the key on the two sheets of paper. An inspector from Scotland Yard was in Corbin now, but had made no headway. Hardy said that he was a very good fellow, a better man could not have been sent, but he also understood the difficulties of dealing with Morne and Morne House.
Hardy supposed that Palfrey had not changed his mind.
‘You don’t seriously think that I could do more than you and a Yard man,’ said Palfrey.
‘But I do, Palfrey. I wouldn’t think so, normally, but with Morne I’m quite sure. He doesn’t often take a liking to anyone, you know; his attitude towards you is quite exceptional. Understandable, of course, but exceptional.’
‘I see,’ said Palfrey, mildly. ‘Well, I’m weakening. Don’t be too surprised if I look in some time on Tuesday.’
‘I shall expect you,’ Hardy declared.
‘If he goes on like this, I shall need a new size in hats,’ said Palfrey to Drusilla.
Hardy replaced the telephone in his office, studied his shoes for a few moments, then got up, put on his hat and coat, and drove to Cartwright’s home, which was on the outskirts of Corbin.
‘I’m still not sure about Palfrey, sir,’ he said, after greetings had been exchanged. ‘He said that he might come down on Tuesday. What I can’t make up my mind about is whether he really came down here because Halsted sent for him, or whether he was already interested in the business. It’s all very well to say that Z.5 has been disbanded since the war. I daresay it has. But Palfrey was a prominent agent, and he might be used by Intelligence now.’
‘Had you thought of that before Morne gave you the idea?’ asked Cartwright.
‘I suppose I hadn’t,’ admitted Hardy, ‘but I’ve got the bee in my bonnet now. I don’t mind admitting that I shall feel annoyed if he is working for Intelligence. We had more than enough of that kind of thing during the war, didn’t we?’
Cartwright nodded.
“They’d come down, poke about, arouse suspicion and get into trouble, and when they’d gone we’d be told they had been sent by the London people. They might at least tell us in advance who they are. I don’t ask to be taken into their confidence, but unnecessary secrecy gets under my skin.’
‘Obviously,’ said Cartwright.
Hardy laughed self-consciously. ‘Sorry if I’m putting it rather strongly, sir. But I do feel strongly. It’s on our beat, when all’s said and done. I suppose it was excusable in wartime, but surely it isn’t in peace.’
‘I don’t disagree with you,’ admitted Cartwright. ‘What I do say is that nothing will shift the people in Whitehall. They’re as immovable as Wenlock Cliff! You’re right, of course; they did come down here a great deal during the war. That wasn’t surprising; we know that Huns landed from U-boats somewhere near the cliff.’
‘We never found who helped them to get away,’ said Hardy.
‘So that’s worrying you, is it?’
‘Yes, sir, it is,’ said Hardy. ‘When you come to think about it, there isn’t a better place than Morne House for hiding a man for a few days. It’s my opinion that Garth had some pull over Morne and found sanctuary by exerting pressure. Miss Loretta knew it, and fell in with it. If Morne had anything to do with sheltering spies, that would be a strong enough hold, wouldn’t it?’
‘It’s all surmise,’ objected Cartwright.
‘I know, sir, but it would explain a great deal. It would also explain Palfrey being sent down here by Intelligence. Isn’t there any way you can find out what Palfrey is doing?’
‘I don’t know of a way,’ admitted Cartwright. ‘You’ve told our friend from Scotland Yard about this, I suppose.’
‘Oh, yes, I’ve told Wriggleswade,’ said Hardy. ‘He’s of the same mind as I am, sir. Intelligence gets a bit above itself. If I had my way now –’ He broke off.
‘What would you do?’ asked Cartwright.
‘I’d have Palfrey watched,’ said Hardy, and looked appealingly at his chief. ‘I’ve even got the man in mind – young Rundell. He doesn’t miss much. What do you think about it, sir?’
After a pause, Cartwright said: ‘Yes, I’m rather taken by it. Is Rundell free now?’
‘He reported back from leave this morning. He wasn’t due until Monday; he’s mustard keen.’
‘Well,’ said Cartwright, and smoothed his blond moustache. ‘We ought to tell Wriggleswade.’
‘But wouldn’t that spoil it?’ asked Hardy. ‘I suppose we couldn’t do it without, but – well, sir, you could leave it to me to tell him and I could leave it to you. That wouldn’t do for long, I know, but only the time between now and Tuesday matters. Directly Palfrey gets into Corshire we can tell Wriggleswade. If we tell him now, he’ll suggest a Yard man keeping an eye on Palfrey, or else he’ll pooh-pooh the very idea. He’s a bit inclined to throw his weight about, you know.’
‘Oh, yes, but he’s not a bad fellow,’ said Cartwright. ‘All right, talk to Rundell.’
Detective-Sergeant Rundell, of the Corshire C.I.D., left for London on the Sunday morning, fully briefed, determined and convinced that he had been given the chance of a lifetime. It would require exemplary patience and might be trying, but he was confident.
He felt bewildered when, on the Monday afternoon a little after two o’clock, Palfrey and his wife drove into Cheddar Village, parked the Talbot and walked towards the Gorge. While they were parking, Rundell took the opportunity to send a telegram to Hardy.
Palfrey locked the door of the car and turned with Drusilla towards the Gorge. It was a bright, sunny day and there was a surprising number of people taking the same road. One party of schoolchildren made a crocodile fifty yards long on the happy trek to the wonders of the caves – wonders announced on notice-boards and in shop-windows and by a hoarse-voiced man who stood at a corner, showing sightseers the way.
‘Did you see the snub-nosed chap?’ Palfrey asked Drusilla, ‘That nose was in London, not far behind us when we stopped for lunch, and this very minute has gone into the post office.’
‘So we’ve been followed,’ said Drusilla. ‘Do you know who it is?’
‘I haven’t the faintest notion. Stranger to me. Dark hair, dark jowl, a bit of Corshire about him, I shouldn’t wonder. I always knew that my treatment of Kyle got under Hardy’s skin.’
‘That wasn’t surprising,’ said Drusilla.
‘No. I wonder if Mac’s here yet?’
‘He’s probably been waiting since dawn,’ said Drusilla.
McDonald, on being told of their decision, had expressed himself delighted. It had been agreed that he should go on ahead and meet them at the cottage with a parrot in the window. McDonald seemed to enjoy the prospect of a mysterious journey and encounter with the American.
‘There’s a green cottage,’ said Drusilla, her voice rising.
‘One green cottage, two green cottages,’ murmured Palfrey, looking towards the left of the road. In fron
t of them were the great cliffs of the gorge rising like bulky, forbidding sentinels, dark grey and light intermingling, some scrub and grass on the lower slopes, but the higher bleak and bare.
The cottages stood close together a little way ahead of them. Outside was a notice-board offering eggs and bacon and chips for 3s. 6d. There was a small queue outside the door.
‘There it is!’ exclaimed Drusilla, and moved her arm as if to point.
Palfrey held it by her side.
‘Don’t forget Snub-nose,’ he said. ‘But you’re right, begod, there’s a parrot.’
They passed the window where the parrot was squatting. It was the cottage which offered bacon and eggs and chips, and there was no chance of getting in immediately. Palfrey glanced at his watch; they had ten minutes to spare.
‘What shall we do?’ asked Drusilla. ‘We must be here at half past two.’
‘The truth is that I’m worried about Snub. I don’t mind being followed, but I don’t want him to see where we go, and there isn’t much chance of losing him here. We could go for a long walk, but that would make us too late, and – Oh-ho!’ He broke off, with a gleam in his eyes. ‘It’s a simple matter, really. Most things are. The caves. Crowded with sightseers. See the queue waiting to go in – not a large one. We will tag ourselves on the end of it. I believe it’s dark inside.’
‘They have lights.’
‘Not everywhere, surely.’
They joined the queue. It was longer than he had thought, for the cave entrance was up steps and the steps were lined with people.
‘It’s twenty-five past two,’ said Drusilla.
‘And Snub has joined the queue,’ said Palfrey. ‘He’s seven people removed. Hallo, we’re moving!’
Coins were rattling in the pay-box. A guide was calling out into the road: ‘Hurry up, now. The next tour is about to start.’
Palfrey put down a two-shilling piece and hurried with the rest of the crowd through a narrow entrance, dimly lighted, at the beginning of the cave. A guide was regimenting the people and giving instructions.
