The Painted Tent

by Victor Canning

  In the carriage by herself Laura opened the envelope. Inside was a letter and a small silver chain necklace with a little silver fish hanging from it.

  The letter read:

  I got it in Barnstaple that day for you to wear and remember

  our promise for one day. I hope you like it.

  I hope you’ll like the second present too that is what I’ve

  made up my mind to do it.

  Lots of love for ever, S.

  Laura fixed the chain round her neck with tears in her eyes. Back at the station Smiler went out to the hired car. The garage man opened the door so that Smiler could sit alongside him. Seeing his long face, he grinned and said, ‘It ain’t the end of the world, you know. But if it is, we can go back over Kersham bridge. I’ll pull up so you can jump into the river and end it all. Knew a chap who did that once. Summertime it was, though, and the river dead low. Broke his leg on a rock.’

  Two days later Smiler finished work early and went up to Highford House. He sat for an hour on the roof. Fria was sitting tight on her eggs. The tiercel, Prince, was nowhere to be seen until five minutes before Smiler left. Suddenly he came down from the high blue sky in a vertical stoop over the tower. Fifty feet above it he threw up in a great figure of eight, the sound of his stoop and manoeuvre making the air sing. Then he rolled over and dived at the roof of the house. He passed two feet above Smiler – as though, Smiler thought, he knew it was goodbye and this was his way of saying it – and then landed with a quick back flicking of wings on the tower-top. Smiler saw the movement of Fria’s head in the recess and heard her call quietly to the tiercel.

  He climbed down from his roof perch and made his way back through the woods, looking at his wrist-watch to check the time because he knew exactly when the little police patrol car would be coming up Bullay brook hill.

  As he loitered down the hill the car came over the brook bridge, passed the farm and began to climb the hill. Smiler raised a hand and the car pulled in by him.

  With a broad smile on his red face Grimble, the policeman, said, ‘Hullo, Samuel. Your girl friend’s gone, I hear.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Smiler glumly. For a moment or two he felt his courage ebbing from him and he had a sudden desire to turn and run away. Then he thought of his father and of Laura and the whole of his future and he suddenly stammered out, ‘ I got to tell you something … You see … well, I want to be a police… I mean –’

  The policeman grinned. ‘If you want to be a policeman, you’ll have to wait. You’re not old enough yet.’

  ‘No, no, I don’t mean that. I mean, I’m wanted by the police.’

  For a moment there was silence between them and then the man said, ‘Say that again.’

  ‘I’m wanted by the police. I’m a sort of… well… criminal, and I want to give myself up and get it over to really prove I didn’t do it, and then I can be clear with my father and Laura and … well, and then get on with my studies. ‘ So you’d better take me back with you.’

  The policeman considered this and then said calmly, ‘ Well, now – this all sounds very sudden and serious. A criminal, eh? Sort of on the run, you mean?’

  ‘That’s right.’ It was funny, Smiler thought, but he was feeling easier now as though for days he had been all stuffed up with … well, like with overeating, and now suddenly he was back to normal and really feeling good. He went on, ‘You see I escaped from approved school way back early last year and I got this place working on a farm in Wiltshire and then things went wrong there and then I went to the Laird in Scotland and then again things went wrong and –’

  ‘Now, hang on.’ The policeman smiled. ‘ This sounds as though it’s going to be a long story. I think we ought to go down to the farm and go into all this with the Duchess.’ Then, with a twinkle in his eyes, he said, ‘You wouldn’t describe yourself as a dangerous criminal, would you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Good. Then I won’t put the handcuffs on you. Come on, hop in – and let’s see if we can get this cleared up.’

  So they went down to Bullaybrook Farm and in to the Duchess who, the moment she saw them together, had a shrewd idea of what might have happened because Laura – in strict confidence – had mentioned Smiler’s father’s letter, and it had been clear that Smiler had something on his mind for the last few days. The Duchess produced cider and biscuits for the policeman, Mr Grimble. His wife had had her fortune told more than once by the Duchess who had – the last time – accurately foretold that their fourth expected child would be a girl – which it was to Mrs Grimble’s delight. All the others were boys, ‘little hellions’, she called them.

  Smiler told the policeman his story, sticking only to the main facts. When he had finished, P.C. Grimble stroked his plump chin, took a sip of his cider, looked from Smiler to the Duchess and then, as though producing a great pearl of wisdom, said, ‘Interesting. Very interesting.’

  Smiler said, ‘If you’re going to take me away, can I have a little while to pack some things?’

  P.C. Grimble nibbled at a biscuit and then said, ‘ Well, now, let’s think about that. There’s a lot of things I’ll have to go into with my. Super, and then we’ll have to get on to the Bristol police and so on. All takes a little time and it’s half-past seven now and my supper’s waiting at home. Then, too, you have given yourself up so you aren’t likely to change your mind about it – I hope?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Well then, what I’m going to do is put you in the charge of the Duch – I mean, Mrs Jago, here, until I get proper instructions, maybe tomorrow. So what I suggest now, Sammy, is that you go on up to your room and get on with a little studying, so that Mrs Jago and me can have a quiet talk.’

  With a smile the Duchess, giving the nape of Smiler’s neck an affectionate squeeze, pushed him gently and said, ‘Off with you.’

  When they were left alone together P.C. Grimble said, ‘He’s got guts.’

  ‘He’s got more than that.’

  ‘Seems to me pretty certain he didn’t do it. But that won’t stop the trouble. I mean, you’ve had him here, harbouring as they say, and you knew all about him, and you put it around he was a nephew or something.’

  ‘Yes, I did – and I’d do it again. And so would a lot of other people who’ve also helped him, knowing all about him. Don’t you worry about me. All my life trouble has risen with the sun for me most days. It’s like an old friend now. I’d miss it.’

  ‘Well, yes… Anyway, I don’t suppose they’ll make much of it. We’re reasonable people, you know. Jimmy brought him from Scotland – that right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where is Jimmy these days?’

  The Duchess shrugged her shoulders. ‘I doubt if I looked into my crystal I could find out. He goes with the wind. The family wanderlust runs hard in him.’

  ‘Like it does in Maxie Martin.’

  ‘What would you expect?’

  ‘Seems like Maxie’s got clear away.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Mistake putting him in Princetown. He knows the moor and all this country like the back of his hand.’ Mr Grimble shook his head, drained his cider and, rising, said, ‘But he’ll never make it. They never do, you know. He’ll get picked up one day. The boy’s got the right idea finally. You can’t go on running away from your rightful troubles. Face ’em.’

  ‘You preach a good sermon, and I agree with you.’

  The policeman grinned, reaching for his peaked cap, and said, ‘And there’s plenty of things you could tell me – without looking into any old crystal ball. But you know me, I do my job but I don’t go around bullying my neighbours about their business unless they ask for it. Well, I’ll let you know about the boy soon’s I hear.’

  Upstairs in his room Smiler sat at his work-table, an English grammar book open and neglected before him. On the mantelshelf the little clay figure of Johnny Pickering stood, shoulders bowed with the burden of the pebble on them. Through the wind
ow he saw the quick lightning-blue streak of a kingfisher flash down the brook. A pied fly-catcher flirted from the top of a laburnum tree in the garden and took an early moth. One of the few horses left at keep, rolled in the meadow on its back then righted itself and shook its black mane. A kestrel hovered on the far side of the stream, wing-tips lightly pulsing as it watched the movement of a field mouse foraging in the long grass.

  Suddenly Smiler gave a deep sigh and pulled his diary out of the table drawer.

  He wrote:

  I’ve done it. And right afterwards I felt good about it. But, gosh, now I feel awful.

  More than those few lines he had not the heart and spirit to write. At that moment his world was upside down. At that moment, too, in a seaport in Wales Mr Jimmy Jago, sitting in his car, was penning his last threatening message to Johnny Pickering. It read: THE SANDS OF TIME ARE RUNNING OUT AND YOU KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO. At that moment, too, in his hiding-vault at Highford House Maxie Martin – worried that something might have happened to Jimmy Jago – made a decision that unless he had news from him within the next fortnight he would have to take action on his own.

  At supper that evening Smiler said to the Duchess after a long silence, ‘I had to do it, ma’am, because of the letter from my father. But I’m sorry to make trouble for you, ma’am.’

  ‘What trouble, Sammy?’

  ‘Well, about me being your nephew and you having me here knowing everything.’

  ‘Don’t give it another thought, Sammy. The police won’t bother about any of that.’ She smiled. ‘If they did they’d have too many people on their hands collecting everyone who has known about or helped you since you went on the run.’

  After supper Smiler went out to the barns because he felt that if the police came for him the next day he ought to pay a farewell visit to the animals. Actually, except for the farm creatures, there were very few boarding or circus animals left. The chimpanzee was there but he was going in a week, but the griffon and the mynah birds were gone and so was the Barbary ram, the honey bear, and the tapir. The Duchess, Smiler had the feeling, had slowly turned against having caged animals, and she and the Ancients were now concentrating more on ordinary farming. They still took the horses, but that was different, Smiler thought, because they weren’t caged up like the others. Freddie, the chimpanzee, shuffled to the front of his cage. Smiler scratched his head and then wandered round the few other cages that held boarders, his heart heavy. In a few days now he could be back in that approved school and all his freedom over the past year would have meant nothing … Then he checked himself. ‘No,’ he told himself, ‘you got it wrong, Samuel M. Without all that you’d never have met Laura, Laura above all, and all the other people you’ve made friends with. And you wouldn’t have known you wanted to be a vet.’

  He slept badly that night, waking on and off and lying in the dark, listening to the sound of the running brook, the occasional screech of a little owl – and twice the eerie churring notes of a nightjar.

  The next day dawned with a change in the weather. The sky was full of low cloud and driving rain and Smiler went about his farm work waiting for the call from the Duchess that the police had arrived for him. But there was no visit or word from them that day.

  But the following day P.C. Grimble called and said that the Bristol police were making inquiries. In the meantime they had passed a strict order that Samuel Miles was not to leave Bullaybrook Farm.

  The next day, as Smiler was helping Bob to cut grass for silage in one of the lower valley meadows, Bill came into the field and said that Smiler was wanted at the farm right away.

  Smiler said, ‘ Is it them?’

  Bob and Bill, who knew all about his trouble by now, looked at one another and then Bill said, ‘Well, there’s a big black car in the drive.’

  Smiler said, ‘ It’s bound to be the police. I’d better say goodbye.’

  Bob shook his head. ‘ Don’t rush your fences, Sammy. It could be a lawyer to tell you your rich uncle’s died in Australia and left you a fortune.’

  Smiler grinned. ‘ Some hope.’

  But as he went up to the house the grin went from his face. There was a police driver sitting behind the wheel of the car.

  In the big main room of the farm were the Duchess and a police inspector. He was a broad-shouldered man with a pleasant, square face with deep lines weathered into it as though time, trouble and the battering of the world’s darker trials had marked it hard. He had grey hair and steady brown eyes and, Smiler thought, did not look the kind of man anyone would fool about with. He sat at the table. In front of him was a plate of biscuits and an untouched glass of the Duchess’s cider.

  The Duchess put a motherly hand on Smiler’s shoulder and said, ‘Sammy, this is Police-Inspector Johnson from Bristol.’

  Smiler said nervously, ‘ How do you do, sir?’ and held out his hand.

  The Inspector smiled and shook hands and then said, ‘ I’m very well, thank you, Samuel Miles. Now sit down over there, lad, and we’ll have a little chat.’

  As Smiler sat down, the Duchess said, ‘I’ll leave you two alone.’

  When she was gone from the room, the Inspector gave Smiler a long, steady look, cleared his throat and said, ‘Well, you’ve led us a merry old dance, haven’t you? And done it very well, I’d say, considering half the police in the country have been looking for you. With that fair hair, blue eyes, and freckles you stand out like a bright penny amongst a bunch of dull old coppers.’ He chuckled suddenly and added. ‘ That’s a joke, lad. Dull coppers.’

  Smiler said, ‘I know, sir, but…’

  ‘But you weren’t sure whether it was in order to laugh, eh?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Am I going back to that approved school, sir?’

  ‘Don’t let’s rush things, lad. There’s some details and questions first. And –’ the Inspector’s voice hardened – ‘I want straight answers. Right?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Good. You say this Johnny Pickering stole the old lady’s handbag and tossed it to you as he ran away?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘He was not a friend of yours?’

  ‘No, sir. I knew him, but he wasn’t a friend. I didn’t like him and he didn’t like me.’

  ‘I see.’ The Inspector put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a piece of writing paper and put it in front of Smiler. ‘Have you ever seen that before?’

  Smiler looked down at the paper. On it was written in capital letters: THE SANDS OF TIME ARE RUNNING OUT AND YOU KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO OR ELSE.

  Smiler shook his head. ‘Never in my life, sir. What is it?’

  ‘I ask the questions, lad. You give the answers. That note was sent to Johnny Pickering and quite a few others like it. You any idea who could have written them?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Recognize the writing?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘How long is it since you saw Mr Jimmy Jago?’

  Puzzled, Smiler said, ‘Not for weeks and weeks, sir. No more’s the Duchess.’

  The Inspector grinned. ‘I didn’t ask you whether Mrs Jago had seen him lately. Just answer the question straight. Have you ever heard of Maxie Martin?’

  ‘No, sir. Who’s he? Oh, I’m sorry, sir.’

  ‘Ever heard his name mentioned?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Have there ever been any strangers visiting here? Someone perhaps you might have been told to forget you’d ever seen?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘You’re sure?’ The Inspector’s voice was suddenly severe, a little frightening.

  ‘Yes, sir. I’m sure, sir. And please, sir – what’s this got to do with me giving meself up?’

  The Inspector’s face slowly creased into a smile, and he said, ‘Nothing. That’s clear. Well, that’s about all, I think. There’s just a few small details to get settled. Until your father, gets back, do ou want to stay here or go back to live with your sister and her husband in Bristol?’
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  For a moment or two Smiler looked blankly at the Inspector. Then, puzzled, he said, ‘But how can I do either, sir? I’ve got to go back to the approved school.’

  ‘Approved school? Oh, that.’ The Inspector grinned and shook his head. ‘ That won’t be necessary. Somebody else is going instead. More or less volunteered to.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Johnny Pickering, lad. We went along yesterday morning early to ask him a few questions about all this. Sitting at breakfast he was. Eating eggs and bacon and reading his morning post. He had that letter in his hand.’ He nodded at the paper on the table. ‘He took one look at my men, jumped almost out of his skin with fright and made a clean breast of things –’

  ‘Oh, no sir,’ Smiler almost shouted. ‘He couldn’t have done because the pebble hasn’t dropped and –’

  ‘I don’t know anything about pebbles, lad. But the penny certainly dropped for him.’ He stood and gave Smiler a warm smile, and then said gravely, ‘ Samuel Miles, it is my duty to inform you that you are a free man. You were unjustly convicted and, no doubt, in due time some form of compensation will be made to you. In the meantime – where do you want to be? Here or with your sister in Bristol?’

  For a moment Smiler stared at him open-mouthed, a whirl of emotion almost making him giddy. He couldn’t believe it! He couldn’t believe it!

  ‘Here – take some of this. Can’t stand the stuff myself.’ The Inspector handed Smiler the untouched glass of cider.

  Like an automaton Smiler took it and drank unthinkingly, draining the glass.

  The Inspector chuckled. ‘ You’re a good Devonshire cider man, I see. Perhaps you should stay here.’

  ‘Oh, yes, sir! Yes, sir – please.’

  ‘That’s it, then.’

  ‘Oh, thank you very much, sir.’

  ‘Don’t thank me. Thank whoever wrote this.’ He picked up the letter and put it in his pocket. ‘Now, pop off with you. I want a last word with Mrs Jago before I go. And, Samuel Miles, remember this always. No matter what trouble you get into, rightly or wrongly, there’s only one way of dealing with it. Face up to it. Don’t run away from it.’