“You’ve forgotten one thing, haven’t you?” asked Henry. The five men looked stolidly at him. The girl caught her breath and said, “No, I don’t think so. That’s the way it went, but now…”
“Now you can’t find him. Did you ever return the key to Jackson?”
“Of course not. We needed to hang on to it because we knew we were going to let Jonah out last night, as I told you in hall,” said Kathleen, “but when we went along, he wasn’t there.”
“I don’t see why you feel so worried. Somebody else must have let him out,” said Henry.
“How could they, when we’ve got the only key?” demanded Bill.
“How do you know you’ve got the only key? It is most unlikely that there would be only one key to such an important place as the stoke-hole, as you fellows call it. A nice pass we should all come to during the winter, if the one and only key happened to get lost. Of course there are other keys. There must be.”
“Well, supposing there are, and somebody got hold of one, what happened to Jonah? That’s what we’re worried about,” said Kathleen. “You see, he doesn’t seem to be anywhere about the place and yet his car is still here.”
“Oh?” said Henry, who had not thought of this. “Sure it’s his car? Oh, well, yes, you’d know, I suppose, although I don’t know how you expected to acquire access to any of the staff lock-ups.”
“Easy,” said John. “We followed Jonah, on the day of the film, round to the garages and when we’d got him impounded, we frisked him and pinched the key to his lock-up. That’s where we first thought of putting him, only we thought he’d make enough row for someone to hear him.”
“Well, you’d better give me the key.”
John walked up to the dais and handed the little key to Henry, remarking as he did so, “You needn’t worry, Harry boy. We couldn’t have gone joy-riding or anything. There’s only enough petrol in the car to get as far as the village. He hadn’t tanked up.”
“Probably intended to do that at the pub,” said Julian. “Here’s the key to the stoke-hole. You’d better have that as well.”
“Well, I’ll look into the matter with Gassie,” said Henry.
“No names, no pack-drill, of course. That’s understood.”
“What’s really worrying them?” asked Hamish, when the students had departed.
“My guess would be that the grape-vine has failed them. They honestly don’t know where Jonah is. That’s what’s the trouble, I fancy. This particular half-dozen have nothing more against him than lots of the others. I think they’re dead scared that someone has really laid for him, you know. What’s more, I think they must have something to go on. That’s why they’re in such a panic.”
“You don’t really think some misguided person has gone too far, do you?” asked Hamish. “Or could it be—yes, it would have to be—more than one? Jones, I mean—”
“Yes, I see what you mean,” said Henry, looking anxious. “It’s true that Jones is a powerful fellow. He’d have gone berserk when they let him out, so they may have—”
“Richard is the heftiest chap in the place, but I don’t think he had anything to do with it,” said Hamish. “He’s a guileless soul and I’m sure would have given himself away long before this if he’d had a hand in any lethal kind of rough stuff. Besides, he’s never had any particular cause to dislike Jones, has he?”
“No, but he’s a chivalrous sort of young thug, and might well take up the cudgels on behalf of somebody else,” Henry argued. “I happen to know, for example, that he has a great admiration for Lesley. If he considered her wronged, he might go to all lengths on her behalf, and we know that he came to Joynings with a reputation for violence. Still, as you say, he is a transparent person and would easily have been detected by those six we saw just now if he had released their prisoner and spirited him away—or something worse.”
“That’s the rub, isn’t it?”
“The fact that Jones has disappeared again? Yes, indeed it is.”
“When are you going to speak to Medlar?”
“I wondered whether we ought to institute another search before I do that. Jones—or his body—must be somewhere about. I think I will organize parties to comb the woods.”
“Well, I’ve at least an hour to spare before I need go to the pool. My squad can’t swim until they’ve digested their lunch. And that’s another thing. Don’t you think we ought to put our best athletes on some sort of a diet? My lot eat the same sort of food as everybody else. I’d like to see more steak and fewer fatteners.”
“I’ll look into it, but I’m not sure whether it would be popular to segregate the stars from the also-rans in that sort of way. Both sides might envy the other, don’t you think? I know Gassie is the pot-hunter of all pot-hunters, but I’d rather keep the lid on the pot—no awkward pun intended—than have it boil over on a question of food. Still, I’ll certainly bear it in mind, if you think it’s a good idea.”
“So, about this business of combing the woods; how do we get it organized?”
“If you’ll get Miss Yale to find out whether the women want to take part, I’ll go round the halls and collect a couple of dozen volunteers from among the men.”
“Suppose the first to volunteer are the chaps who actually know where Jones is?”
“I think we must chance that. They themselves may be relieved to have him found. The rag, if that’s all it is, has gone much too far by this time, and even the most vindictive must have realized it. If you are willing to help…”
“I’m sure Martin and Jerry will come, too.”
“Oh, good. Get hold of them, then, before you go to Miss Yale.”
Hamish found Miss Yale, Lesley, and a couple of women students still at after-lunch coffee in Miss Yale’s quarters. She refused point-blank to organize a band of searchers from among the women students. “The woods are out of bounds for them,” she said significantly.
Hamish was on his way back to the tennis courts, which had been chosen as the meeting-place for the volunteer searchers while they got their briefing, when he was waylaid by one of the servants.
“If you’re not busy at the moment, sir, the Warden would like you to see him.”
“Oh, in that case, go out to the tennis courts, Maisie, and, when Mr. Henry turns up, tell him I’ve got to see the Warden and will join him as soon as I can, but not to wait for me.” He could not think of any reason why Medlar should want to see him, but, accustomed and schooled to polite and instant obedience to authority, he climbed the magnificent staircase and passed along the balustraded gallery to the Warden’s study.
“Oh, James, my dear fellow,” said Gascoigne, when the young man presented himself, “did you ever get that cataloguing done?”
“Certainly, sir. The book is hanging in its case from a hook in the ante-room. There were several items which had not been listed in the previous catalogue, so I added them in what appeared to be the appropriate places. I hope that accords with your wishes?”
“Thank you, my dear fellow, thank you. Well, if you are sure that you have listed everything, I wonder whether we might check the items against your catalogue? Not that I think you will have missed anything, but just as—well, just as a check, so to speak.”
“There is a good hour before I am due at the pool, sir. The swimming squad have to digest their lunch, so, if it would be convenient for you, I could check with you at once.” (It would take a quarter of an hour, he thought, for Henry to collect volunteers.)
“That is extremely good of you, James. Let us begin, then. I cannot think it will take us very long. It is very kind of you to give up your time to my hobby.”
Hamish had noticed, as the term went on, a growing cordiality in the Warden’s manner towards him. He was not conscious of having done anything special to win Gascoigne’s approval and could only conclude that the man must have got wind of his close association, through his mother, with Dame Beatrice Lestrange Bradley. However, he murmured a polite and modest disclaimer that he was showing kindness to the Warden and followed him into the ante-room, where Gascoigne switched on the light and picked up the new catalogue which Hamish had written in Italianate script picked out with suitable, picturesque rubrics.