To Love and Be Wise

The report, in spite of Williams's best endeavours, was meagre. Miss Searle didn't like her cousin and made no bones about it. She, too, was an American, but they had been born at opposite sides of the United States and had never met until they were grown up. They had fought at sight, apparently. He sometimes rang her up when he came to England, but not this time. She had not known that he was in England.

Williams had asked her if she was out a lot, and if she thought it possible that Searle could have called, or telephoned, and not found her. She said that she had been in the Highlands, painting, and that Searle might have called her many times without her knowledge. When she was away the studio was empty and there was no one to take telephone messages.

'Did you see the paintings? Grant asked. 'The ones of Scotland.

'Oh, yes. The place was full of them.

'What were they like?

'Very like Scotland.

'Oh, orthodox.

'I wouldn't know. The west of Sutherland and Skye, mostly.

'And about his friends in this country?

'She said she was surprised to hear that he had any friends anywhere.

'She didn't suggest to you that Searle was a wrong 'un?

'No, sir. Nothing like that.

'And she couldn't suggest any reason why he should suddenly disappear, or where he could disappear to?

'No, she couldn't. He has no people, she did tell me that. Parents dead, apparently; and he was an only child. But about his friends she seemed to know nothing. What he said about having only a cousin in England was true, anyhow.

'Well, thank you very much, Williams. I quite forgot to ask you this morning if you found Be

'Be

'And did he cry?

Grant heard Williams laugh.

'No. He pulled a new one this time. He pretended to faint.

'What did that get him?

'It got him three free brandies and the sympathy of the multitude. We were in a pub, I need hardly say. After the second brandy he began to come to and moan about the way he was being persecuted, so they gave him a third. I was very unpopular.

Grant considered this a fine sample of understatement.

'Luckily it was a West End pub, Williams said. This, being translated, meant that there was no actual interference with his performance of his duty.

'Did he agree to go with you for questioning?

'He said he would go if I let him telephone first. I said he knew quite well that he was free to telephone anyone at any hour of the day or night-that was a Post Office arrangement-but if his call was i

'And did he agree?

'He practically dragged me into the box. And who do you think that little bastard was telephoning to?

'His M.P.?

'No. I think M.P.s are a bit shy of him nowadays. He overstayed his welcome last time. No, he rang up some bloke he knows who writes for the Watchman and told him the tale. Said he was no sooner «out» than some policeman or other was on his tail wanting him to go to Scotland Yard for questioning, and how was a man to go straight if he was having an i

'Was he any help to the Yard?

'No, but his girl was.

'Did she blab?

'No, she was wearing Poppy's earrings. Poppy Plumtre's.

'No!

'If we didn't happen to be taking Be

'Did you get the rest of Poppy's stuff?

'Yes. Be

'Good work. What about the Watchman?

'Well, I did want to let that Watchman bit of silliness stew in his own juice. But the Super wouldn't let me. Said it was no good having trouble that we could avoid even if we had the pleasure of seeing the Watchman making a fool of itself. So I had to ring him up and tell him.

'At least you must have got something back out of that.

'Oh, yes. Yes. I don't deny I got some kick out of that. I said: "Mr Ritter, I'm Detective-Sergeant Williams. I was present when Be

'Then he gave me the old spiel about hounding criminals, and Be

'"Two thousand pounds worth," I said.

'"What?" he said. "What are you talking about?"

'"That is the amount of jewellery he stole from Poppy Plumtre's flat on Friday night."

'"How do you know it was Be

'I said Be

'Wait till Mr Ritter's flat is burgled, Grant said. 'He'll come to us screaming for the criminal's blood.

'Yes, sir. Fu

'Not yet, but it may come any minute. It doesn't seem so important now.

'No. When I think of the whole notebook I filled interviewing bus conductors in Wickham! No good for anything but the wastepaper basket.

'Never throw notes away, Williams.

'Keep them for seven years and find a use for them?

'Keep them for your autobiography, if you like, but keep them. I would like to have you back here, but at the moment the work doesn't warrant it. It is just a matter of standing about in the cold.

'Well, I hope something turns up before sunset, sir.

'I hope it does. Literally.

Grant hung up and went back to the river-bank. The crowd had thi

Rodgers had gone back to Wickham, but it seemed that the Press had arrived; both the local man and the Crome correspondent of the London dailies wanted to know why the river was being re-dragged. There was also the Oldest Inhabitant. The Oldest Inhabitant had a nose and chin that approximated so closely that Grant wondered how he shaved. He was a vain old party but he was the representative in this gathering of something more powerful than any of them: Race Memory; and as such was to be respected.

'No use you draggin' any furner'n the village, he said to Grant, as one giving the under-gardener instructions.