A Hundred Thousand Dragons (6 page)

Ashley stared at him. ‘And you haven't thought fit to mention it until now, man?'

‘Well,' said Constable Hulme, aggrieved, ‘we weren't investigating the theft this morning, sir, we were investigating this here car crash. No one said anything about investigating the theft.'

Constable Marsh coughed. ‘Excuse me, sir, I don't know if it's anything to do with the theft, but I stopped a Rolls-Royce yesterday evening.'

‘What happened?' asked Ashley.

Constable Marsh took out his notebook and thumbed through it. ‘I've got a note of it here, sir. It was only a minor infringement of the regulations, though. Nothing to make a fuss about. I didn't know about the theft, then, of course.'

‘Could this have been the car you stopped?'

Constable Marsh stared at the car doubtfully. ‘It could have been, I suppose, but it's hard to say with it being in such a state.' He found the place in his notebook. ‘Here's my record of the incident, sir. It was quarter to six p.m. on the 27th instant—'

‘Yesterday,' put in Ashley.

‘Yes, sir, yesterday. As I say, on the 27th instant, I stopped a motorist in a Rolls-Royce on the Haverly Road. Just coming out of Lower Haverly, he was. I apprised him that his front nearside headlight wasn't working. It looked like he'd banged it on something. Just coming on for dusk, it were. He thanked me and said that he'd have it seen to at the nearest garage. I told him where that was and he drove on. The registration of the vehicle was –' he glanced at his book again – ‘AP 6168, sir.'

‘Was it, by jingo? It sounds as if we might be on to something. Constable Hulme, what's the registration number of Mr Vaughan's car?'

‘I don't rightly know, sir,' said Constable Hulme stiffly. ‘Being as how I wasn't asked to investigate the theft. There's a note of it at the station.'

‘Could it have been Mr Vaughan you saw in the car?' Ashley asked Marsh in a restrained way.

Constable Marsh shook his head. ‘No, sir. I'd have recognized Mr Vaughan.'

‘Can you describe the man you saw? Was he, for instance,' said Ashley glancing at the homburg in his hand, ‘wearing a grey hat?'

Constable Marsh thought for a moment. ‘I don't rightly know, sir. He was certainly wearing a hat but I couldn't swear to what colour it was. As I say, it was coming on for dusk. It was one of those hats with flaps that tie under your chin.'

‘What, a sort of Sherlock Holmes affair, you mean?' asked Jack. ‘A deerstalker?'

‘If that's what they're called, yes.'

‘Can you tell me anything else about the man in the car?' said Ashley.

Constable Marsh brightened. ‘Oh yes, sir. He was a gentleman, if you know what I mean, and had a very pleasant way with him. I don't know about him being a thief. We had a bit of a joke together and I can't see a thief doing that.'

‘What did you joke about?' asked Jack.

The constable smiled. ‘He had a sort of rug or big tent rolled up on the back seat and I said it was a bit cold for camping. He laughed and said you wouldn't find him trying it at this time of year, so I reckon it must have been a rug, after all.'

Jack's eyes slid to the blackened body in the car. ‘Was the rug large enough to cover a man?'

Ashley drew his breath in sharply. ‘Well? Was it?'

Constable Marsh looked bewildered. ‘But why should a man cover himself up with a rug, sir? If he had done, he must have been completely inside it. I couldn't see him. Why should anyone do such a thing, sir? It'd be all dusty and very uncomfortable. It doesn't make any sense.'

‘Just answer me, will you?' said Ashley patiently.

Constable Marsh sucked in his cheeks in an effort of memory.

‘Well?' prompted Ashley impatiently. ‘Was it large enough to cover a man?'

‘It might have been, I suppose, sir.'

Ashley glanced at Jack. ‘Well done,' he murmured. He looked at Marsh once more. ‘Describe the man driving the car, will you? What did he look like?'

Constable Marsh ran his finger under the strap of his helmet. ‘I don't really know, sir. I couldn't tell you his height or colour of his eyes or anything like that. I wasn't looking at him with a view to describing afterwards, you see. All I can really tell you was that he had a big brown beard. A great bushy thing, it was.'

Jack's stomach twisted. ‘A beard?' he repeated.

‘What is it, Haldean?' asked Ashley.

‘It's . . .' He stopped, then looked up and met Ashley's eyes. ‘When I met Vaughan, he was in Claridge's,' he said hesitantly. ‘It was last Tuesday. He was with a man called Craig. Durant Craig, the explorer. You might have heard of him. Anyway, he's got a very bushy beard. I wondered if it was the same man.'

‘It could be, I suppose,' said Ashley.

And so it could; but there might be another explanation, as well, Jack thought, with a sudden lifting of his spirits. He didn't want it to be Craig in the car. He didn't want to have anything to do with Craig ever again. The last time he had seen Vaughan, Vaughan had been dressed up as Rasputin with a very realistic beard. Come to that, Mark Stuckley had been wearing a beard and so had a good few other people at the party last night. Jack looked at Constable Marsh. ‘How well do you know Mr Vaughan? Would you recognize him if he was wearing a false beard, say?'

‘Wearing a beard?' Constable Marsh grinned broadly. ‘What, dressed up, you mean? Why should Mr Vaughan do that, sir?'

‘He had a beard at the fancy-dress party last night,' Jack explained.

Ashley nodded in understanding and waited for Marsh's answer. ‘Well?'

‘Well, I couldn't say, sir,' said Marsh. ‘I've never seen Mr Vaughan wearing a beard. I don't know what he'd look like.'

‘Would you recognize his voice?' asked Ashley.

Constable Marsh shook his head. ‘I'm sorry, sir, I don't know as I would. He speaks like a gentleman and, as I say, this man did too, but it never occurred to me it might be Mr Vaughan. It can't have been him, though. Why, if it had been Mr Vaughan, he'd be bound to say something, not make a fool out of me by pretending he didn't know who I was.'

‘You'd have thought so,' said Jack with a smile, trying to smooth Constable Marsh's ruffled feathers. ‘He could have been having a joke, though.'

Constable Marsh relaxed. ‘I suppose that could be it, sir. It seems a pretty poor sort of joke,' he added doubtfully.

‘Absolutely,' agreed Ashley dryly. ‘I need to follow this up, Haldean. Rolls-Royces aren't so thick on the ground and tracing the car is a good place to start. Obviously the person I need to speak to is this Mr Vaughan.'

‘The Stuckleys will have his address,' said Jack. ‘I'm sure you can telephone him from the house.'

‘I'll do that,' said Ashley. He looked at the policemen. ‘You two had better stay here until Dr Wilcott has made arrangements to move the body.' He turned to the doctor. ‘Will that take long?'

‘If the Stuckleys let me use their telephone as well, I can start the ball rolling right away,' said Dr Wilcott.

‘Good. In that case, as Mr Tarleton has finished, we can be off.' He looked at the two policemen again. ‘As soon as the body's removed, you can go.'

They walked back up the path for the sole purpose, Jack thought, of getting out of earshot of the two policemen.

He was proved right when Ashley gave vent to his feelings in a sigh of irritation. ‘Can you credit those two? I thought the Keystone Kops were only found at the pictures. It was obvious the crashed car was a Rolls-Royce and yet they didn't think to link it up with the fact that Mr Vaughan's car had been stolen.' He glanced at Jack. ‘Can you give me a lift to Vaughan's? I don't know about any shenanigans with false beards and so on, but it's worth bearing in mind.' He jerked his thumb backwards towards the glade. ‘I'm assuming the car is his missing Rolls, of course. It might be a coincidence, but if the registration of Vaughan's car is AP 61 anything, then I'll have to see him. I have to see him in any case, as he's a witness.'

‘You can have a lift and welcome, Ashley,' replied Jack. He hesitated awkwardly. ‘You know I mentioned a bloke called Durant Craig?'

‘Yes. What about him?'

‘Well, he's not one of my most fervent admirers. I don't blame him, but he's not. If, by any chance, he's staying with Vaughan, I'd better not come into the house.'

Ashley glanced at him appraisingly. ‘I thought you seemed a bit rattled when Marsh started talking about men with beards.'

‘It struck me how many men wore beards last night,' said Jack. It was the truth but not all of the truth. ‘There must have been at least a dozen, if not more.'

Ashley looked at him for a few moments in silence. ‘If you say so,' he said quietly.

The Stuckleys were happy to allow both Dr Wilcott and Superintendent Ashley to use their telephone. ‘Anything,' as Mark Stuckley said, ‘that'll get things back to normal as soon as possible. After all,' he added, taking Jack into the morning room for a cup of coffee while his father showed Ashley and Dr Wilcott to the telephone, ‘it's pretty mouldy to think that part of our land is marked with an X. Marjorie and Phyllis wanted to go and have a look but Dad wouldn't let them.'

‘Too right,' said Jack, picking up his coffee. ‘It's not nice. Ashley looked pretty green, poor beggar. I think it's the first time he's ever seen anything like that. Dr Wilcott coped very well. Was he in the war?'

‘He was in the R.A.M.C.'

Jack nodded. ‘I thought he must have had some experience.'

Mark Stuckley shuddered. ‘It was the smell that always got to me. It always reminded me of Sunday roasts and so on, and it was ghastly to think of things like that and know why you were thinking it.'

‘Don't,' pleaded Jack. ‘Mark,' he added, ‘tell me about Mr Vaughan.'

‘Why d'you want to know about Vaughan?'

‘His Rolls-Royce has been stolen and there's a fair chance the one which crashed last night is it. Keep that to yourself, though, as it's not certain. Anyway, Ashley wants to interview him and I've offered to give him a lift to Vaughan's house.'

‘Poor beggar,' said Mark. ‘Vaughan, I mean. I didn't know his Rolls had been swiped. It was a lovely car. Have you any idea who stole it?'

‘No. That's one of the reasons Ashley wants to see Vaughan. So what's he like? As a person, I mean.'

Mark shrugged. ‘So so. I'll say this for him, he's as tough as old boots. He's done a lot of hunting and mountaineering, which is usually the sort of thing I'd like, but he's . . . well, I always feel he'd look after Number One.' He searched for the right words. ‘You know in the war, how you could always tell who you could trust and who you couldn't? I wouldn't like to rely on him if I was up against it. He's a good oarsman, though,' added Mark in a warmer tone. ‘He got his Blue at Cambridge and won a cup at Henley years ago. He's done some fascinating trips. I really envy him that.'

Jack grinned. Mark Stuckley had a passion for boats. A hazard of knowing Mark was being persuaded to crew for him on various boats where comfort was a very optional extra. Jack had been talked into it twice, and, rather to his surprise, had ended up enjoying himself very much.

‘I tell you what else I envy, too,' said Mark enthusiastically. ‘He lives a little way out of Chavermere, by Stour Creek, and he's got a first-rate boathouse. I'd love to have a really good bit of navigable river close to hand. We can't do anything with the Hammer. It's far too shallow for any sort of boat. I'd . . .'

Jack stepped in before Mark got carried away. ‘Your grandmother said he was an archaeologist.'

Mark snorted with laughter. ‘I bet she didn't put it as politely as that. I glaze over when he starts holding forth. The last time he came to dinner I nearly died of boredom before I could get him back on to boats. I know Tutankhamen and so on sounds exciting when you read it in the papers, but Vaughan's never done anything like that. It's all old pots and he doesn't half
go on
. Grandmama cuts him down to size, though. She talks about treasure-hunting and it irritates the life out of him.' He grinned. ‘She likes you.'

‘She's got superb taste,' said Jack. He looked up as Ashley came into the room. ‘Any luck?'

Ashley nodded. ‘I spoke to Mr Vaughan and he's agreed to see us. I've got the address. It's a place called Two Bridges on Stour Creek Road. Incidentally, Haldean,' he added, ‘I told Mr Vaughan you were with me.' He cleared his throat. ‘He's alone,' he added. ‘No guests.'

Jack relaxed. ‘That's probably just as well.'

‘Anyway, the registration of his Rolls is AP 6168.' He looked at Mark. ‘Did Haldean tell you Mr Vaughan's car was stolen? We think it was the car which crashed last night, but I didn't say as much to Mr Vaughan. I told your father, though. He's been very helpful and it was on your land, after all. I want to get the story of this theft. Mr Vaughan made it sound very mysterious. So, Haldean, if your offer of a lift is still on, we'll go now, if that's all right with you.'

‘Mysterious, eh'? Jack finished his coffee. ‘That sounds fun. Let's go and hear all about it.'

FOUR

V
aughan's house, Two Bridges, was flanked by two ancient humpback bridges which gave the house its name. It lay snuggled down in a roughly triangular piece of land between the Breeden and Stour Creek: a modern, white-walled building with large windows, a green tiled roof and ruler-straight lines, softened by the surrounding trees. A wrought-iron gate in the low wall, separating the grounds from the road, opened on to the driveway. On the right-hand side was a large garage and, on the other, a white wall with an arched gateway ran all the way down to the tree-fringed, sunlit creek.