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across the cache of stolen goods, though, that
might be a different matter. However, I could scarcely
claim that I just happened to see the box under a bed up
in the first-storey bedroom or smell the ham in--Wait
now, smelling four hams, that might be ... What if ... ?
"Holmes, do you suppose--Oh, never mind." I took
down the telephone again and asked for another number.
Holmes turned a page in his book.
"Mrs. Barker, good morning. This is Mary Russell.
How are you? And your husband? Good, I'm glad. Yes, we
were quite fortunate, weren't we? I say, Mrs. Barker, of your
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dogs, do you have one that's good at tracking? Yes, you
know, following a scent. You do? Would you mind lending
him to me for a little while? No, no, I'll come up and get
him. He'll ride in an automobile, won't he? Good, I'll be
there in a bit, then. Thank you."
I put up the receiver. "Holmes, do you mind if I use
the car that is waiting so obviously in the drive?"
"But of course," he said, and put his book back on
the shelf.
We rode to the inn where I borrowed a clean tea
towel and rubbed it into one of the remaining hams, then
went back up the road to the Barkers' house. The ravening
hordes descended on the car, causing the driver to swerve
and curse under his breath as the dogs leapt and bit at the
wheels and carried on as if they were about to eat us alive,
tyres and all. I opened the door into their midst, and when
I stepped out the entire pack went instantly silent and began
to study the sky and sniff at the tussocks of grass growing
along the drive, and to drift away unobtrusively. Mrs.
Barker came out with a collar and lead in her hand, looked
surprised at the tame mob, and went over to a bush to
retrieve a very sorry looking specimen with long ears,
patchy fur, and an undercarriage that brushed the ground.
She led him back to us and handed me the lead.
"This is Justinian," she said, and added, "They're all
named after emperors."
"I see. Well, we shall have the emperor in before
nightfall, I expect. Come, Justinian." He ambled along at
the end of the lead, climbed laboriously into the car, and
proceeded to give Holmes' boots a thorough bath with his
tongue.
I directed the driver first to the road that led north
and had him let us out to wander the roads. Justinian
sniffed industriously but gave no response to the hammy
tea towel. After a while we got back into the car and drove
on to the mill road, beyond which lived Tony Sylvester.
Again Holmes and I walked the verge while Justinian snuffled
in the weeds and anointed them. We walked on, and
on, a parade of dog, humans, and automobile, and I had
quite enough time to regret bitterly that I had ever involved
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myself in this farce. Holmes said nothing. He did
not have to.
"Another half mile," I said between clenched teeth,
"and we assume either that the man was not on foot, or
that the imperial nose is not what it was. Come on, Justinian."
I took the cloth and waved it under his nose.
"Find! Find!"
He paused in his delicate examination of a flattened
toad at the side of the road to savour the hammy cloth,
his eyes lowered pensively. He stood for a moment, thinking
deep thoughts inside his unkempt head, sat down to
scratch a flea in his left ear, stood up, sneezed vigorously,
and set off firmly down the road. We followed, more
quickly now, and in a few minutes he dove off onto a thin
track, under a fence, and into a field. Holmes signaled the
car to wait where it was, and we clambered over in Justinian's
wake.
"I hope this is not the field with the bull in it," I
muttered.
"There is a path, so it is doubtful. Hello, what is
this?"
It was a ten-shilling note, crushed into a patch of
soft soil by a bovine hoof. Holmes carefully extricated it
and placed it in my hand.
"Not the most professional job in the world, would
you say, Russell? He couldn't even wait to get home to
gloat over his booty."
"I did not take up this investigation for its intense
mental stimulation," I snapped. "I only wished to help out
a friend."
"One cannot be too demanding, I suppose. Still, I
may be home in time to resume the haemoglobin experiment.
Ah yes, I believe we--I believe you have found Mr.
Sylvester's house."
The faint path went through another fence and
dwindled away at a small stone farmhouse that had a faintly
desolate air. There was no sign of life, no answers to our
calls. Justinian tugged us along to a little smokehouse that
stood apart, gently emitting curls of fragrant smoke. He
went up to it and stood, nose to the crack, whining irritably.
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I opened the door, and in the dark, smoke-filled interior
saw three whole hams and part of a fourth. I took
my knife from my pocket and cut off a large piece, tossing
it to the ground in front of Justinian.
"Clever dog." I patted him and snatched my hand
back when he snarled at me. "Stupid dog, I'm not about
to give it to you and then take it away."
"Where will you look for the cash box, Russell?"
"It's bound to be someplace inconvenient, such as in
the rafters of this smokehouse or down the pit in the privy.
Nothing that requires a great deal of imagination or intellect:
I admit it was a nice touch to hide the hams in an
active smokehouse, but I'd have thought that an indication
of sound criminal instinct rather than brains; even an urban
investigator might think it odd to find the remains of
a pig blessed with two pairs of hams but neither trotters
nor bacon."
"Yes," he sighed. "My life has been plagued by criminals
with instinct and no sense; I shall leave this one to
you. You search, while I walk back and bring the driver.
Shall I open the house for you before I go?" he asked politely,
holding out his ring of picklocks.
"Yes, please."
The inn's box was not in the smokehouse rafters, nor
down the odoriferous pit. Nor did I find it dangling in the
well or, moving inside, under the man's bed or on the attic
rafters or even under a loose floorboard. The driver outside
was deeply entrenched in a cheap novel, happy enough to
wait, but it was getting late. Holmes and I met in the tiny
kitchen over the dirty dishes. Sylvester had eaten beans for
supper the night before, and the pan stood on the sideboard,
well crusted over. The remainder of the fourth ham
was on a plate in the cupboard. The flies were enjoying it.
"He wasn't too clever in the taking of it, but he has
hidden it well," I said.
"Yes, has he not? What time did Mrs. Whiteneck say
he was relieved? That's right, seven o'clock. It's six-thirty
now, so the car must go. May I suggest we send him off
with a note to our good constable, whose presence might
be of some service at about, shall we say, seven-thirty?"
"Perhaps slightly later. It will take Sylvester at least
twenty minutes to bicycle back here from the inn. It
wouldn't do to have him overtaken by the police on his
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way home."
"You are right, Russell, make it seven-forty-five.
Good. I'll give a note to the driver and have him take it
to Constable Rogers."
"Have him take Justinian back, too. Let him go home
in glory."
The car turned around in the front of the house and
departed, and Holmes disappeared into one of the outhouses
and returned with a rusty chisel and hammer, with
which he approached the open door.
"What are you doing, Holmes?" I asked. He stopped.
"I beg your pardon, Russell, I was forgetting myself.
Old habits die hard. I shall just return these to their place."
"Wait, Holmes, I was only asking."
"Ah. Well, I have occasionally taken advantage of
the fact that a person who sees a clear danger to something
he or she values tends to reach immediately for that object.
You undoubtedly have another plan. Forgive me for interfering."
"No, no, that's fine. You go right ahead, Holmes." I
stood watching while he deftly locked the kitchen door [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]