Mystery Mile (11 page)

Giles coming up with Isopel shouted, ‘Found the centre, Mr Lobbett?'

‘I'm just on it.' The reply came back from the middle of the dense square of yew. ‘It's not very overgrown. There ought to be a lot of birds' nests here.'

‘They're not fond of yew,' Biddy remarked.

‘I don't believe it's got a middle,' came the judge's voice. ‘Are you coming?'

‘Righto.' It was Giles who called back. ‘But the key is, turn to the left whenever possible.'

Mr Campion looked at him coldly. ‘Cheating,' he said. ‘Don't forget the old college, Brother. What would the boys of St Agatha's say? Remember our proud school motto, “
Floreat Fauna
”, which being translated means, of course, “Grow, you little beasts”.'

Giles was about to retort when Biddy, who had been looking in the direction from which they had come, interrupted him.

‘Oh, look,' she said. ‘He's arrived.'

They looked round to see Marlowe coming down the path towards them, and beside him, smiling, self-important, and talking volubly, was Mr Fergusson Barber.

An expression of dismay appeared on Isopel's face. ‘Oh, I
remember him now,' she said. ‘He was the bore at our table on the
Elephantine.
Look at Marlowe.'

The others smiled. The young American's disgust was evident. His keen dark face wore a dubious look, and he made no attempt to interrupt Mr Barber's flow. The expert carried a large flat picture case under his arm, but it did not hamper the freedom of his gesticulations.

‘Hullo!' Campion murmured to Giles. ‘He's brought some pictures to sell. I bet he says they're Cotmans. Whenever I see a leather case like that I say, “Hullo. The Great Defunct has been at it again.”'

By this time Marlowe and the expert were upon them. Mr Barber bowed gravely to the ladies, and recognizing Campion, greeted him as a brother.

‘We meet again, my friend,' he rumbled. ‘You think I don't remember you,' he continued in the same gusty bellow, ‘but I never forget a name or a face. Nothing ever escapes me. No, no, don't remind me. You told me your name just as you were leaving, I remember. Ah, yes, I have it. Mr Memorial – Albert Memorial.'

Everyone looked at Campion accusingly. That gentleman seemed not in the least abashed.

‘How absurd of me,' he said. ‘I gave you my address by mistake. My name is Campion. Albert Campion. You see how the error occurred.'

Although his gravity was perfect the others were not successful, and the Oriental glanced at them suspiciously. Biddy reddened, and kicked Mr Campion gently to relieve her feelings.

‘You want to see Judge Lobbett, don't you?' she said, turning to Mr Barber. ‘He's exploring the maze. I'll call him.'

Mr Barber appeared interested. ‘In the maze?' he said. ‘Ah, yes, I see now. He is in the bush, as the Australians say.'

‘Well, we're all a little up the garden this afternoon,' said Mr Campion.

Marlowe introduced the others hastily, and Giles inquired politely if the visitor had had a good run down.

‘Magnificent!' Mr Barber threw out a fat hand. ‘I did not
realize it was so far. That is why I am a little late. Then I was held up by a police trap just on the far side of the road that joins this place to the mainland. I saw no sense in it. I told the policeman so. On a main road, yes, but at the beginning of a tiny village which leads nowhere, there is no point in it. Unless, why, of course' – his face broadened into a grin – ‘I understand. They are there to protect Judge Lobbett.'

As soon as he had spoken he realized the bad taste of his remark. He opened his mouth and was about to make bad worse by apologizing when the situation was saved by Mr Campion.

‘Had you got your licence?' he said. ‘It means rather a lot to us,' he went on with embarrassing earnestness. ‘Police funds are rather low, and we need a good fine or two to set us on our feet again. Even a five-bob touch would help,' he added wistfully.

Mr Barber laughed uproariously. ‘What a joke, what a joke!' he said. ‘I was all right. I could not be touched, in either sense of the word. I too make jokes,' he added, a little proudly.

‘Well, where is Dad?' said Marlowe. ‘He must have had enough of the maze by now. Hullo, Dad! Half a minute!'

His voice sounded clearly over the still sunlit garden. There was a echo at the point where he stood, and his own words came back mockingly across the fields. There was no reply.

‘He's foxing,' said Isopel. ‘He's got lost.'

‘Let's go in and get him out,' said Biddy. ‘I bet he hasn't found the centre.'

‘But he must have done,' said Giles. ‘I shouted the key to him. Call again, Marlowe.'

‘Here, Dad! seriously' – Marlowe's voice rose. ‘Here's a visitor to see you. You must come out.'

Once again the echo was his only reply.

A faintly scared expression flickered into Isopel's eyes. ‘I suppose he's all right?' she said.

Her alarm passed from one to the other of them. The smile left Campion's face, and he hurried forward to the opening in the yew hedge.

‘Mr Lobbett,' he shouted, ‘answer us, please. You're scaring us.'

They listened with more anxiety now, a growing presentiment of danger becoming more and more firmly fixed in their minds.

‘He does not answer,' said Mr Barber idiotically.

Biddy hurried forward. ‘Come on, Giles,' she said. ‘We can find our way through the place. I'll go straight to the centre, you go down the blind alleys.' She disappeared into the green fastness, Giles at her heels. The others congregated at the mouth of the maze, listening breathlessly. Isopel called suddenly, her voice shrill and appealing.

‘Daddy! Daddy! Answer me.'

Marlowe's face grew very pale, and he put his arm around the girl.

‘This is crazy,' he said. ‘He must be there. There's no other way out, is there?'

‘I don't think so.' Campion spoke with unaccustomed seriousness. ‘A maze never has a second door.'

Biddy's voice silenced him. ‘I'm here at the centre,' she said. ‘There's no sign of him, Giles.'

‘Half a moment,' the boy's voice answered her. ‘No luck yet. Try that false exit from the centre.'

The search went on in feverish silence. Mr Campion, who had hitherto been standing rather foolishly before the entrance to the maze, now turned to Marlowe and Isopel. ‘You go round to that side,' he said, ‘and I'll cut round this. He may have found some opening.'

‘What shall I do?' said Mr Barber.

‘You stay here and give us a call if you see anyone come out,' said Campion, and started off round the east side of the maze. He climbed the hedge with some difficulty and scrambled along the ditch by the field. The minutes passed quickly. Campion met Marlowe in the road which skirted the fourth side of the yew puzzle. Their expressions betrayed their lack of success.

‘It's absurd,' Marlowe said, as if in answer to some unspoken question. ‘We're getting the wind up about nothing,
of course. The whole darned place is as sound as an icebox. There isn't any way out except the one he went in by. He must be in there. He's playing the fool with us. I guess he doesn't realize how jumpy we are.' The words were belied by his tone.

Mr Campion seemed stupefied.

‘We'll get round to the others,' he said. ‘He'll probably be with them.'

A light step on the road behind them made them swing round expectantly. It was Biddy. Her face was pale, her brown eyes dark and startled.

‘Albert,' she said breathlessly, ‘he's gone. We've combed the maze, Giles and I, and there's not a trace of him. It's as if he'd disappeared into the earth.'

‘
IT'S NO GOOD
hanging about the maze any longer.' Biddy spoke helplessly. ‘He can't be here.'

She and Isopel were standing in the entrance to the yew puzzle. Mr Campion had dashed down to interview the police trap on the far side of the Stroud. Giles was still searching every corner of the maze with dogged obstinacy, and Marlowe was scouring the grounds. Mr Barber, a stolid expression of surprise upon his face, was seated bolt upright in a deck chair upon the lawn, his leather case upon his knee, considerably bewildered by the whole affair. Addlepate, as upon all other occasions when he might conceivably have been useful, had entirely disappeared.

Isopel had grown very pale. She looked more like her brother than ever. Her features seemed to have become sharper and her eyes larger in the last ten minutes.

Biddy was frankly flustered.

‘But it's impossible,' she said, her voice rising a little on the final word. ‘He
can't
have gone. It's like magic.'

Isopel shook her head and her lips moved silently. She seemed to be struggling for words.

‘They've followed us – here. I knew we couldn't get away from them. I knew – I –'

She put out her hand as if to save herself, and Biddy, catching a glimpse of her face, moved forward just in time to catch her before she collapsed.

Faced with a problem with which she could deal, Biddy's practical nature reasserted itself. She let the other girl down gently into a sitting position and thrust her head between her knees. A shout to Giles brought him stumbling out of the maze.

He let out a short nervous exclamation when he saw the girl
on the grass, and came running towards them. He looked at Biddy with eyes full of horror.

‘Good heavens, she's not dead, is she?' he said.

‘Of course not, you fool,' said Biddy, whose nervousness had turned into irritation. ‘Pick her up and carry her into the house. She's only fainted. Poor kid, she's frightened out of her life. And so am I, Giles. Where on earth is he?'

Giles did not appear to be listening to her. He was looking down at the white-faced girl whose head lolled so heavily against his shoulder, and whatever he was thinking, he did not confide it to Biddy. He carried Isopel into the house and set her down on her bed, where he left her to his sister's ministrations, then went back stolidly to the maze, which his own faith in cold reason would not allow him to leave.

He stepped into the dark bushes and found his way along the narrow paths, going over and over ground that he had already searched. At length, pausing in a cul-de-sac on the west side, he remained for some time regarding the hedge before him speculatively. One of the yew trees was dead and there was a decided hole near the ground, leading into the ditch that skirted the hay field which flanked the garden. He scrambled through it himself: it was a comparatively simple matter. The discovery relieved him to a certain extent, it eliminated that element which Biddy had called ‘magic' and which had been so abhorrent to his prosaic mind

The ditch in which he found himself was dry and had recently been cleared. He could see up and down it unimpeded, on his left as far as the road and on his right to the end of the field, some two hundred yards distant. The hay was ready for cutting, and as he stood in the ditch it waved above him higher than his head. It would be perfectly possible for a small army to have hidden in the wide dry ditch without being seen from the road, but there was no evidence of a struggle of any sort.

Unsatisfied, Giles returned to the maze the way he had come. He searched the cul-de-sac carefully.

While he was standing there undecided he heard Campion's voice shouting from the roadway, ‘Hullo! Anyone in there?'

He called back eagerly, ‘Any luck?'

‘Not a trace. It's the durndest mad thing I ever struck.' It was Marlowe who answered. ‘And you?'

‘I don't know,' said Giles. ‘Come down the ditch at the side of the hay field and I'll show you.' He turned, squatting down in the opening by the dead yew. Presently they came along, stumbling through the ditch, Campion in particular slipping about considerably on the uneven ground.

‘See this?' said Giles. ‘This is the only way anybody could get in or out, bar the entrance, as far as I can see, and I've gone through the place with a comb. The question is, how did anyone get him out without his making the least sound or putting up any struggle? There's no sign of a row here, you see, and we didn't hear a whisper.'

‘And we haven't told you the most extraordinary thing of all yet,' said Marlowe. ‘There were two old cops there and they swear that not a vehicle or pedestrian has left Mystery Mile since four o'clock this afternoon. And that's not all. I've been up to George's brother, 'Anry, who's been sitting outside the inn at the corner of the road there, and he swears that he hasn't seen a soul except Mr Barber, who stopped to ask him the way and seems to have impressed him considerably.'

Giles stared at him. ‘Then he must be on the estate,' he said, and the thought seemed to relieve him. ‘He couldn't have lost his memory or something, could he? Has he ever gone off like this before?'

This attempt to attribute the affair to a natural cause was a new idea. Marlowe seized it hopefully. ‘No,' he said, ‘he hasn't. Suppose he had a brainstorm? The things he's been through lately would be enough to bring it on. He might easily have gone wandering off on his own. Couldn't we turn out the village and have a hunt for him? I can't believe that he could stray lost for long in a little place like this.'

‘Of course,' said Giles slowly, ‘there's the estuary, you know. Could they have got him off in a boat?'

‘That won't be difficult to trace,' said Campion. ‘Two or three men with a prisoner would be noticed in a place like this. When was high tide, Giles?'

‘That's what I was thinking,' the boy replied. ‘It was high
tide about five. It must have been still well up at the time he disappeared. We'll get the village out, anyway. They're certain to know if there have been any strangers around. There are only about six rowboats in the place, now I come to think of it. It's such a long way to the water across the saltings. I say,' he went on abruptly, ‘don't you think we'd better tell all this to Isopel? About the idea of a brainstorm, I mean. She came over faint out here about twenty minutes ago, and I carried her in. She's with Biddy now, but I feel that if we could reassure her, even a little bit, we ought to.'