A Murder of Quality

'And fingerprints?' Smiley asked. 'What about them?'

'Mr Rode's were everywhere. On the floor, the walls and windows, on the body itself. But there were other prints; smudges of blood, little more, made with a gloved hand probably.'

'And they were the murderer's?'

'They had been made before Rode made his. In some cases Rode's prints were partly superimposed on the glove prints.'

Smiley was silent for a moment.

'These examination papers he went back for. Were they as important as all that?'

'Yes. I gather they were. Up to a point anyway. The marks had to be handed in to Mr D'Arcy by midday on Friday.'

'But why did he take them to Fielding's in the first place?'

'He didn't. He'd been invigilating exams all afternoon and the papers were handed in to him at six o'clock. He put them in his little case and had them taken to Fielding's by a boy—head boy in Mr Fielding's house, name of Perkins. Rode was on Chapel duty last week, so he didn't have time to return home before dinner.'

'Where did he change then?'

'In the Tutors' Robing Room, next to the Common Room. There are facilities there, mainly for games tutors who live some distance from Carne.'

'The boy who brought this case to Fielding's house—who was he?'

'I can't tell you much more than I've said. His name is Perkins; he's head of Mr Fielding's house. Fielding has spoken to him and confirmed Rode's statement… House tutors are very possessive about their boys, you know… don't like them to be spoken to by rough policemen.' Rigby seemed to be slightly upset.

'I see,' Smiley said at last, helplessly, and then: 'But how do you explain the letter?'

'It isn't only the letter we've got to explain.'

Smiley looked at him sharply.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean,' said Rigby slowly, 'that Mrs Rode did several pretty queer things in the last few weeks.'

Chapter 4—Town and Gown

'Mrs Rode was Chapel, of course,' Rigby continued, 'and we've quite a community in Carne. Truth to tell,' he added with a slow smile, 'my wife belongs to it.

'A couple of weeks ago our Minister called round to see me. It was in the evening, about half past six, I suppose. I was just thinking of going home, see. He walked in here and sat himself down where you're sitting now. He's a big fellow, the Minister, a fine man; comes from up North, where Mrs Rode came from. Cardew, his name is.'

'The Mr Cardew in the letter?'

'That's him. He knew all about Mrs Rode's family before the Rodes ever came here. Glaston's quite a name up North, and Mr Cardew was very pleased when he heard that Stella Rode was Mr Glaston's daughter; very pleased indeed. Mrs Rode came to the Tabernacle regular as clockwork, you can imagine, and they like to see that round here. My wife was pleased as Punch, I can tell you. It was the first time, I suppose, that anyone from the School had done that. Most of the Chapel people here are tradespeople—what we call the locals.' Rigby smiled again. 'It isn't often that Town and Gown come together, so to speak. Not here.'

'How about her husband? Was he Chapel too?'

'Well, he had been, so she told Mr Cardew. Mr Rode was born and bred in Branxome, and all his family were Chapel people. That's how Mr and Mrs Rode first met, I gather—at Branxome Tabernacle. Ever been there, have you? A fine church Branxome, right up on the hill there, overlooking the sea.'

Smiley shook his head and Rigby's wide brown eyes rested on him thoughtfully for a moment.

'You should,' he said, 'you should go and see that. It seems,' he continued, 'that Mr Rode turned Church of England when he came to Carne. Even tried to persuade his wife to do the same. They're very strong at the School. I heard that from my wife, as a matter of fact. I never let her gossip as a rule, being a policeman's wife and that, but Mr Cardew told her that himself.'

'I see,' said Smiley.

'Well now, Cardew came and saw me. He was all worried and bothered with himself. He didn't know what he should make of it, but he wanted to talk to me as a friend and not as a policeman.' Rigby looked sour, 'When people say that to me, I always know that they want to talk to me as a policeman. Then he told me his story. Mrs Rode had called to see him that afternoon. He'd been out visiting a farmer's wife over in Okeford and didn't come home until half past five or thereabouts, so Mrs Cardew had had to talk to her and hold the fort until the Minister came home. Mrs Rode was white as a sheet, sitting very still by the fire. As soon as the Minister arrived, Mrs Cardew left them alone and Stella Rode started talking about her husband.'

He paused. 'She said Mr Rode was going to kill her. In the long nights. She seemed to have a kind of fixation about being murdered in the long nights. Cardew didn't take it too seriously at first, but thinking about it afterwards, he decided to let me know.'

Smiley looked at him sharply.

'He couldn't make out what she meant. He thought she was out of her mind. He's a down-to-earth man, see, although he's a Minister. I think he was probably a bit too firm with her. He asked her what put this dreadful thought into her head, and she began to weep. Not hysterical, apparently, but just crying quietly to herself. He tried to calm her down, promised to help her any way he could, and asked her again what had given her this idea. She just shook her head, then got up, walked over to the door, still shaking her head in despair. She turned to him, and he thought she was going to say something, but she didn't. She just left.'

'How very curious,' said Smiley, 'that she lied about that in her letter. She went out of her way to say she hadn't told Cardew.'

Rigby shrugged his great shoulders.

'If you'll pardon me,' he said, 'I'm in a darned awkward position. The Chief Constable would sooner cut his throat than call in Scotland Yard. He wants an arrest and he wants one quick. We've got enough clues to cover a Christmas tree; footprints, time of the murder, indication of murderer's clothing, and even the weapon itself.'

Smiley looked at him in surprise.

'You've found the weapon, then?'

Rigby hesitated. 'Yes, we've found it. There's hardly a soul knows this, sir, and I'll trouble you to remember that. We found it the morning after the murder, four miles north of Carne on the Okeford road, tossed into a ditch. Eighteen inches of what they call coaxial cable. Know what that is, do you? It comes in all sizes, but this piece is about two inches in diameter. It has a copper rod running down the middle and plastic insulation between the rod and the outer cover. There was blood on it: Stella Rode's blood group, and hairs from her head, stuck to the blood. We're keeping that very dark indeed. By the Grace of God, it was found by one of our own men. It pinpoints the line of the murderer's departure.'

'There's no doubt, I suppose, that it is the weapon?' Smiley asked lamely.

'We found particles of copper in the wounds on the body.'

'It's odd, isn't it,' Smiley suggested reflectively, 'that the murderer should have carried the weapon so far before getting rid of it? Specially if he was walking. You'd think he'd want to get rid of it as soon as he could.'