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A half-smile touched Ernie’s mouth, but he said nothing. “Did you?” Alleyn insisted.
“Ernie took a queer turn,” Andy said. “He can’t rightly remember after his turns.”
“Let him answer for himself. Did you do this, Ernie?”
“I might and I might not. If they say so, I might of.”
“Do you think the German lady killed your father?”
“ ’Course she didn’t,” Chris said angrily. “She couldn’t.”
“I asked Ernie if he thought she did.”
“I du
“Very well, then,” Alleyn said and decided suddenly to treat them to a rich helping of ham. “Here, in the presence of you all — you five sons of a murdered father — I ask you, Ernest Andersen, if you cut off that father’s head.”
Ernie looked at Alleyn, blinked and opened his mouth: but whether to speak or horridly to laugh again would never be known. A shadow had fallen across the little room. A voice from the doorway said:
“I’d keep my mouth shut on that one if I were you, Corp.”
It was Simon Begg.
He came forward easily. His eyes were bright as if he enjoyed the effect he had made. His ma
“Sorry if I intrude,” Simon said. “I’m on my way to the pub to be grilled by the cops and thought I’d look in. But perhaps you are the cops. Are you?”
“I’m afraid so,” Alleyn said. “And you, I think, must be Mr. Simon Begg.”
“He’s my Wing-Commander, he is,” Ernie cut in. “We was in the same crowd, him and me.”
“O.K., boy, O.K.,” Simon said and, passing round the table, put his hand on Ernie’s shoulder. “You talk such a lot,” he said good-naturedly. “Keep your great trap shut, Corp, and you’ll come to no harm.” He cuffed Ernie lightly over the head and looked brightly at Alleyn. “The Corp,” he said, “is just a great big baby: not quite with us, shall we say. Maybe you like them that way. Anything I can do for you?”
Alleyn said, “If you’ll go ahead well be glad to see you at the Green Man. Or — can we give you a lift?”
“Thanks, I’ve got my heap out there.”
“We’ll be hard on your heels, then.”
Begg went through the motion of whistling.
“Don’t wait for me,” he said, “I’ll follow you.”
“No,” Alleyn said very coolly, “you won’t. You’ll go straight on if you please.”
“Is that an order or a threat, Mr. — I’m afraid I don’t know your rank.”
“We’re not allowed to threaten. My rank couldn’t matter less. Off you go.”
Simon looked at him, raised his eyebrows, said, with a light laugh, “Well, really!” and walked out. They heard him start up his engine. Alleyn briefly surveyed the brothers Andersen.
“You chaps,” he said, “had better reconsider your position a bit. Obviously you’ve talked things over. Now you’d do well to think them over, and jolly carefully at that. In the meantime, if any of you feel like making a sensible statement about this business I’ll be glad to hear what it is.” He moved to the door, where he was joined by Fox and Carey.
“By the way,” he said, “we shall have to find out the terms of your father’s Will, if he made one.”
Dan, a picture of misery and indecision, scratched his head and gazed at Alleyn.
Andy burst out, “We was right fond of the old man. Stood together, us did, father and sons, so firm as a rock.”
“A united family?”
“So we was, then,” Nat protested. Chris added, “And so we are.”
“I believe you,” Alleyn said.
“As for his Will,” Dan went on with great simplicity, “we can’t tell you, sir, what we don’t know our own selves. Maybe he made one and maybe not.”
Carey said, “You haven’t taken a look round the place at all, then?”
Andy turned on him. “It’s our father what’s been done to death, Mr. Carey. It’s his body laying out there, not as an old man’s did ought — peaceful and proper — but ghassly as a sacrifice and crying aloud for — for—” He looked round wildly, saw his youngest brother, hesitated and then broke down completely.
“— for justice?” Alleyn said. “Were you going to say?”
“He’s beyond earthly justice,” Nat put in. “Face to face with his Maker and no doubt proud to be there.”
Superintendent Carey said, “I did hear tell he was up to Biddlefast on Tuesday to see lawyer Stayne.”
“So he was, then, but none of us knows why,” Chris rejoined.
“Well,” Alleyn said, “we’ll be off. I’m very sorry, but I’m afraid we’ll have to leave somebody here. Whoever it is will, I’m sure, be as considerate as possible. You see, we may have to poke back into the past. I can fully understand,” he went on, talking directly to Andy, “how you feel about your father’s death. It’s been — of course it has — an appalling shock. But you will, no doubt, have a hunt round for any papers or instructions he may have left. I can get an expert search made or, if you’d rather, can just leave an officer here to look on. In case something turns up that may be of use to us. We really do want to make it as easy for you as we can.”
They took this without much show of interest. “There’ll be cash, no doubt,” Dan said. “He was a great old one for putting away bits of cash. Proper old jackdaw, us used to call him.” He caught back his breath harshly.
Alleyn said, “I’m sorry it has to be like this.” Dan was the one nearest to him. “He’s an elderly chap himself,” Alleyn thought, and touched him lightly on the shoulder. “Sorry,” he repeated and looked at Fox and Carey. “Shall we move on?”
“Do you want me again?” Dr. Otterly asked.
“If I can just have a word with you.”
They all went out through the forge. Alleyn paused and looked round.
“What a place for a search! The collection of generations. There’s the door, Fox, where Ernie says the note was pi
He went down a narrow pathway between two heaped-up benches of litter and opened the door in the end wall. Beyond it was a tiny room with a bed that had been pulled together rather than made and gave clear evidence of use. The room was heaped up with boxes, piles of old newspapers and all kinds of junk. A small table had evidently served as a desk and bore a number of account books, files and the Guiser’s old-fashioned copper-plate bills. In Dr. to W. Andersen, Blacksmith, Copse Forge, South Mardian. A pencil lay across a folded pile of blotting-paper.
“Hard lead,” Alleyn said to Fox, who stood in the doorway. “The message was written with a hard point. Wonder if the paper lay here. Let’s have a look.”
He held the blotting-paper to the light and then took out his pocket lens. “Yes,” he grunted, “it’s there all right. A faint trace but it could be brought out. It’s the trace of the note we’ve already got, my hearties. We’ll put Bailey and Thompson on to this lot. Hullo!”
He had picked up a sheet of paper. Across it, in blue indelible pencil, was written, Wednesday, W. Andersen. Kindly sharpen my slasher at once if not all ready done do it yourself mind and return by bearer to avoid further trouble as urgently require and oblige Jno. MacGlashan. P.S. I will have none but yourself on this job.
“Carey!” Alleyn called out, and the Superintendent loomed up behind Fox. “Who’s Jno. MacGlashan? Here, take a look at this. Will this be the slasher in question?”
“That’ll be the one, surely,” Carey agreed. “MacGlashan’s the gardener up along.”
“It was written yesterday. Who would the bearer be?”
“His boy, no doubt.”
“Didn’t they tell us Ernie sharpened the slasher? And took it up late yesterday afternoon? And whiffled the goose’s head off with it?”
“That’s right, sir. That’s what they said.”
“So the boy, if the boy was the bearer, was sent empty away.”
“Must of been.”
“And the slasher comes to a sticky end in the bonfire. Now, all of this,” Alleyn said, rubbing his nose, “is hellish intriguing.”