The Hog's Back Mystery (3 page)

The workshop was outside, a wooden shed, an extension of the garage. It was not large, but the most had been made of the space and it was scrupulously clean and tidy. There were several machine tools, all small, but all polished till they shone. In the centre was a tiny circular saw and planing machine. A mortising machine and a vertical drill stood against one wall, while against another was the lathe. Ursula did not understand all the gadgets of the latter, though the doctor explained them patiently. But she could see that it was a beautiful piece of work and admired it accordingly. Beside the circular saw was a well equipped bench with above it rows and rows of shining tools.

As they moved round Campion picked up a brown paper parcel from one of the shelves.

“Ah,” he said, “I had forgotten all about this. It just occurs to me that you might like it.”

“I, Dr. Campion? What is it?”

He unwrapped the paper. Within were some strangely shaped bits of three-ply wood, tiny hinges and other small metal objects, together with coloured and patterned papers.

“It's a dolls' house,” he explained. “One of those packets that the Handicrafts people put out. You know, the Weedington Street people, N.W.3. You have nothing to do but stick the pieces together. Here are the parts of the house, the windows, doors and so on, and this is brick paper for the walls and tile paper for the roof. I got it for a patient, a little girl of six, but before I could put it together the poor little mite died. Now it occurs to me that you might like it for your hospital.”

Ursula was genuinely grateful. “Oh, Dr. Campion, how good of you!” she said warmly. “I'd be just delighted. But can you send it after me? I'm afraid I'm going home to-morrow.”

“No need to do that. I'll slip it together after dinner.”

“Can you really? In so short a time?”

Campion smiled. “Bless you, yes; it's nothing of a job. I use a cold glue that sets very quickly. I'll do it after dinner and you can take it with you.” He put down the bits of wood and pointed to a half-finished frame. “Here's something that may interest you also. It's supposed to be a combined tea-table and cake-stand. The tea will be here”; and he went on to describe the affair, which folded, and which was evidently an idea of his own of which he was very proud.

Ursula was interested and she talked about the scheme till Alice came out to say that dinner was ready.

Campion had not much to say at meals. Indeed, neither he nor either of the visitors had much chance to say anything. Alice's tongue seldom ceased. Ursula indeed wondered how she was able to eat anything and keep the flow of conversation going. But all that she said was both interesting and kindly. Ursula enjoyed listening to her, though how long she would continue to do so she would not have prophesied.

After dinner the women returned to the drawing-room, while Campion went to his workshop to assemble the dolls' house. Ursula got into an argument with Alice as to how she should go back to St. Kilda.

“I will not have Dr. Campion take out the car,” Ursula insisted. “There is a bus about nine and I'll go by it. Why shouldn't I?”

“Indeed, you'll do nothing of the kind. You mustn't go so early for one thing.
Of course
Howard will run you over. That was the arrangement from the beginning.”

Ursula gave in and they settled down to chat. Flo was full of a new tour her old lady was about to undertake. She was certainly a wonderful old woman, nearly seventy, and with the
wanderlust
of a girl of twenty. She wanted, it appeared, to cross the Andes before she died. It had been a dream with her for many years and now she was going to do it. She would go direct to Buenos Aires, then cross the continent to Valparaiso, and so up the coast, returning via the Panama Canal and New York.

Presently the doctor came in. He was carrying the assembled body of the dolls' house, but without windows, fittings and decorative papers.

“This'll give you an idea of what it's going to look like, Miss Stone,” he said. “I wondered if you would like a brick house and a red roof, or a stone house with slates. I've got papers for both. Personally I like the brighter colours, but I think in Bath the others are the rule. What do you say?”

Ursula was delighted with the tiny structure. “Oh how splendid!” she cried enthusiastically. “The children will simply love it. It is good of you, Dr. Campion.” She turned to the others. “See what I'm getting for the hospital. What do you both think: bright colours or dull? Bright, I suggest.”

“You should have a red cottage,” said Flo, “to remind you of where it came from,” a suggestion which was unanimously agreed on.

“I'm running you over in the car of course,” Campion said, pausing as he reached the door. “Don't forget that and try and slip off by the bus.”

“She was trying,” Alice put in; “in fact, she wanted right or wrong to go. But I wouldn't let her. I told her you'd run her across.”

“Of course. It won't take any time.”

“Very good of you all, I'm sure,” Ursula declared as Campion disappeared.

“There now,” said Alice, who never missed an opportunity of proving herself in the right, “you see you couldn't have caught the bus even if you'd wanted to. You'd have had to leave now—without your dolls' house.”

Ursula admitted it and took advantage of the change of subject to urge Alice and Flo to visit her at Bath. “Run over in the car,” she begged, “even if you only stay the night. Let's have a walk over some of the old places.”

They both said that they would love it. Alice promised she would try to do it in the summer and Flo when, if ever, she got back from South America. This restarted the matter of the tour, and they discussed routes and ports of call and shore excursions till Campion again entered, this time with the completed house.

When the little building had been duly admired, Ursula said she must go.

“We'll all go,” Alice declared. “It's not a very big car, but we'll manage it. Come on, Flo; you needn't put on a hat. Bring round the car, Howard. Have you got your things, Ursula?”

That was Alice all over, arranging everything and everybody. But no one minded, and presently they all packed into the doctor's small Standard and started on the five-mile run to St. Kilda.

Chapter III

Missing from His Home

It was fine but cold as the party set out. The sky was clear and a brilliant three-quarter moon blotted out all but the brightest stars and threw the shadows of the trees black as ink across the road. There was no wind and save for the purr of the car everything was still. A fitting night to follow so splendid a day.

Campion drove quickly and in a few minutes they turned into the gate of St. Kilda. Then while Ursula slowly disentangled herself from her seat, Campion got out and rang the bell. Julia opened the door.

“Oh, is it you, Dr. Campion?” she greeted him, and her voice was sharp as if from anxiety. “Is James there?”

“No, Mrs. Earle, I've not seen him. I was just running Miss Stone back, and Alice and Flo came for the drive. What about Earle?”

“I don't know,” she answered. “He's gone out, or I think he must have. But he didn't say he was going out and all his hats are in the hall.”

“Oh,” Campion returned, “he's gone to see Dagger or the Forresters. When did this happen?”

A shadow cut across the light from the hall and Marjorie appeared.

“Is it James?” she asked.

“No,” said Julia. “It's the Campions bringing back Ursula.”

By this time, hearing the discussion, all three women had got out of the car.

“What is it, Mrs. Earle?” asked Alice. “Is there anything wrong?”

“Earle's gone out and they don't know where he is,” Campion explained. “When did this happen, Mrs. Earle?”

“An hour and a half ago: at twenty minutes to nine. Marjorie and I were able to fix the exact time.”

“And what exactly happened? Tell us the details.”

Julia stepped back into the hall. “Won't you come in?” she invited. “Come into the sitting-room, Miss Campion. Come in”—she turned to Flo. “It's cold out here at the door.”

The party moved slowly in and stood grouped about Mrs. Earle.

“He said nothing? Just walked out?” the doctor questioned.

“We didn't hear him go out,” Julia went on. “I'll tell you. We were alone, he and Marjorie and I. On Sunday evening Lucy goes out and I get supper. Well, we had supper as usual and then Marjorie helped me to wash up: I never like to leave the dirty things for the maid. Supper was about eight and I suppose was over about half-past eight.”

“Just half-past eight,” Marjorie interposed.

“Yes. Then we washed up and Marjorie went into the sitting-room. Tell them, Marjorie.”

Marjorie took up the tale. “When we were finishing washing up I remembered that I had seen one of the cups we had used at tea on the piano in here. The Bannisters came to tea and someone had put this cup away and it had been forgotten. So I came in for it. James was sitting in that chair before the fire reading the
Observer
. I noticed particularly that he had his slippers on. He looked up as I entered and asked me had I read about a motor accident which had taken place the day before near Dorking. ‘It's a regular death-trap, that corner,' he said. ‘We were nearly sent to Kingdom Come ourselves at that very place. You can't see, and as we were trying to cross the road a bus came charging down on us.' I murmured something and took the cup out to the kitchen and washed it. I don't suppose I was three minutes out of the room, certainly not more. As I came in again I went on talking about the accident. I said: ‘Is that the corner near the school where we met Janie Holt?' There was no reply, and when I looked over, James was gone. His newspaper was there on the chair, but he was gone.”

She paused. “And what did you do?” Campion asked.

“I didn't do anything. Why should I? I thought it funny just for a moment, you know, but I didn't really pay any attention to it. I supposed he had gone upstairs. But then when he didn't come down again Julia—”

“When I came in ten minutes later,” Julia interrupted, “I asked where he was, because once he sits down to read the paper he usually doesn't move till he's finished it. After another half-hour he hadn't turned up and I said again, ‘Where can James be?' At first we thought he had gone upstairs, but Marjorie said she had not heard him pass the kitchen door, and you know you could scarcely go upstairs without being heard. However, we supposed he must have done so, but as time still went by and he did not come down I got anxious and went up to look. He wasn't upstairs: I both called and looked. Then we thought he must have gone out. But I looked and found that all his walking shoes were upstairs and all his hats in the hall. If he had gone out it must have been without a hat and in his slippers. All the same, we went round the place, calling, but we could find no trace of him. He was not in the garage nor the greenhouse, nor anywhere about.”

“Some patient,” Campion suggested. “Are you sure the telephone didn't ring?”

“Absolutely certain. We couldn't have helped hearing it. Besides, with slippers and no hat!”

“He's gone in to Dagger or the Forresters, as I said,” the doctor remarked again. “Ring them up on the ground that he's wanted on the telephone.”

“Yes, do, Mrs. Earle,” Alice exclaimed. “You'll find that's what happened. You see, it's such a lovely night that he might easily walk a short distance in slippers and without a coat or hat. You'll find he'll turn up directly.”

“I don't want to make a fuss about it,” Julia declared, “because he'd be so annoyed. What you suggest is a good idea, Dr. Campion. I'll ring up.”

“I don't like it,” said Alice in a low voice as Julia left the room. “I don't like it all. I never liked his colour. You know;
heart
. That high florid sort of colour always means something wrong with the heart. He's gone out and fallen somewhere and not been able to get up again. You'll have to search, Howard.”

The doctor made a gesture of impatience. “My dear Alice,” he grumbled, “do for pity's sake control your imagination. Can't a man go in to pass the time of day with a neighbour without raising the entire country? He's all right. Don't make such an unholy fuss.”

“It's not making a fuss to take reasonable precautions.” She turned from her brother. “Don't you see, Ursula? Don't
you
see, Flo? What I say is not making a fuss; it's
most
likely. No one goes off like that without a word. You wouldn't do it. I wouldn't do it. Even Howard wouldn't do it. Would you, Howard? Would you go—”

“He's not at the Forresters,” came Julia's voice from the hall. “I'll try Colonel Dagger.”

Campion moved out into the hall, possibly to escape his sister's catechism. The others slowly followed.

“Oh, is that Colonel Dagger?” they heard. “Is James there by any chance? Someone wants to speak to him on the telephone. He's gone out and I rather imagined he was going in to see you. No? Oh well, it doesn't matter. Thanks. So sorry to have troubled you.”

“He hasn't been there,” Julia went on as she replaced the receiver.

“Where else could he have gone?” Campion asked. “What about the golf club?”

“He would never have gone to the club in his slippers,” declared Julia, “but I'll ring up all the same. No,” she went on a few seconds later. “He's not been there.”

“Is there no other place close by at which he might have called?”

“I don't think so,” Julia returned anxiously. “No, I don't understand it. What do you think about it yourself, Dr. Campion?”

“I don't think you need be in the least anxious, Mrs. Earle. He's gone out for a stroll, and the night's so fine it has tempted him further than he intended. At the same time, if it would be an ease to your mind, we might have another look round. Of course it's just conceivable that he has tripped and fallen and perhaps not been able to walk home. If you would go through the house thoroughly again, I'd have a look outside.”

“Hadn't we better divide and do the thing properly?” Alice suggested. “If you, Julia, and Ursula would do the house, the rest of us could help Howard outside. What do you think?”

This was agreed to and the two little parties set to work. Julia was now looking very frightened, and even Ursula was beginning to fear some mishap. Alice's theory did not seem at all impossible to her, and she would not have been very surprised to come on Earle at any moment, unconscious or even dead. She herself had often thought how like a heart subject he was.

Carefully she and Julia went from room to room. When they had finished no doubt remained. Earle definitely was not in the house.

They put on wraps and went out and joined the other searchers. The out-offices had been done without result—garage, car, electric power hut, green-house, tool-shed and summer-house. So had the lawn and garden.

“When we're here,” the doctor said (Ursula could see that he was making light of it to Julia), “when we're here we might as well look into the wood a little way. Are there any paths through it that Earle was accustomed to use?”

“There are paths of course; the usual mere tracks that cover the heath, but none that James would have gone along at night. In fact, he didn't like being in the wood at night; I've often heard him say so.”

“Few people do,” Campion returned. “All the same, the fine night might have tempted him. We'll just have a look.”

He divided the surrounding wood into areas and his party into twos, allocating an area to each party. He himself undertook the road.

“I think we'd better have the car,” he said to Ursula, who chanced to be his partner. “If I ran slowly you could examine the near side of the road while I looked at the other. He might have gone for a walk and felt faint and be resting on the bank.”

They went for a couple of miles in each direction, returning to find that a search of the wood surrounding the house had yielded no better result. None of the party now made any pretence of being free from anxiety.

“There's half-past eleven,” said Julia, “and he disappeared at twenty to nine; nearly three hours ago. Something dreadful has happened. I'm frightened. What should we do?”

It was easy to ask the question; it was anything but easy to answer it. Everyone thought of the police; no one liked to suggest calling them in.

“Has he ever gone out like this before?” Flo Campion asked, as if in an effort to postpone the inevitable suggestion.

“Never,” Julia declared. “James is good that way. He always says when he's going out and when I may expect him back. And if he can't come he always telephones.”

“I cannot help thinking he has gone into some house,” Campion put in. “Is there no one who could have called for him, say with a car?”

“Yes, Julia.” Alice nodded emphatically. “That would explain the whole thing. Who might have called for him with a car?”

Julia shook her head. “No one,” she declared. “That wouldn't account for it at all. James would not have gone off in a car without telling me. Besides, there was no car. I was in the kitchen at the time and the window was open, and if there had been a car I should have heard it.”

“You mightn't have noticed it,” Alice urged.

“Oh yes I should. The night was calm and everything was quiet. I should certainly have heard it. Marjorie agrees with me.”

“Oh yes,” said Marjorie, “there wasn't a car. I should have heard it too, and there simply wasn't one.”

“Don't you lock the french-window at night, Mrs. Earle?” Campion asked. “You're sure it was open when he disappeared?”

“Oh yes, it was open. That was one of the first things we tried. We do lock it, of course, but not necessarily at dinner-time. Often it lies unfastened in the evening, but James always locks it before going to bed.”

Campion cleared his throat nervously.

“I hardly like to suggest it, Mrs. Earle,” he said, “but I'm not sure that it mightn't be well if I were to run into Farnham and tell the police. We mustn't shut our eyes to the possibility of Earle's falling over something in the dark and perhaps twisting his ankle and being unable to return. The police would help in making a search in case something of that kind had happened. What do you all think?”

“I think he should go, Mrs. Earle,” Alice said at once. “I think we all felt that the police should be told, but none of us liked to say so. What do you think?”

Julia appeared unwilling to take so drastic a step. “I'd simply hate having the police in,” she declared. “But if you all think it's the right thing, let's do it. You haven't said anything, Ursula. What do you think?”

For a moment Ursula did not reply. An unpleasant suspicion had for some time been shaping itself in her mind, a suspicion founded on the knowledge she had so unexpectedly gained during her visit to London. Had Earle really left St. Kilda, but voluntarily? Had he slipped away according to some prearranged plan, to join the woman of the car? Was it really a case of desertion that they were considering? This solution had not occurred to the others, because they didn't know what she knew.

But if she were right, if Earle had quietly departed, would Julia want the police to be called in? Would she not rather wish to keep the unhappy affair private? Would she not prefer to give out that Earle had been called away on business, and perhaps afterwards herself move to some other locality where she would be a stranger?

Ursula saw that she was letting her imagination run away with her. She had no real reason to suppose her idea correct: Alice's theory of a heart attack was much more probable. However, she thought she ought to put the point to Julia before this decision about the police was taken. Could she get her alone?

“I think you should look again in his room before you make a move. There might be a note in an engagement book or something.” She got up. “Come along, Julia, and I'll help you. We won't keep you others a moment.”