Adders on the Heath

'I do not feel that Mr Richardson and his mirages are my raison d'être, child.'

'Good Lord! You don't mean you think Tom was seeing things, and the corpses weren't in his tent at all? Oh, but we know that one of them was, because the Superintendent saw it there. So-why mirages?'

'Say, then, the figments of a guilty mind, child.'

'You don't really think Tom Richardson has a guilty mind?'

'We all have guilty minds, my dear Laura.'

'You don't fob me off like that! Jolly well come clean!'

'I think there is more behind Mr Richardson's present reactions than we know.'

'You mean he's mixed up in something fishy?'

'I think he knows more about the late Mr Colnbrook than he has admitted.'

This part of the conversation was on similar lines to that which was being carried on between the two young men. These, taking but the most cursory interest in the yachts, cruisers, launches, catamarans, dinghies and boatmen's supply boats which were out on the river, were strolling towards Beaulieu, deep in conversation punctuated by pauses for earnest thought.

Just as Laura was asking whether Dame Beatrice believed that Richardson was mixed up with something illegal, Denis, with the disconcerting directness of the artist, suddenly said to his friend,

'You'll have to come clean with Aunt Adela, you know, if you want her in your team. I told you so before.'

Richardson did not attempt to side-step the significance of this piece of advice. He said, with sober fatality:

'I know. I talked to her quite a lot coming down here in her car, but it was a question of giving her the information she asked for, rather than putting my oar in and volunteering possibly unnecessary facts, you see.'

'What facts?'

'Such as that I actually met Colnbrook-to speak to him, I mean-more than once. I do know a bit more about him than I've ever told anybody. I could have had a motive for killing him, now that I'm engaged to be married.'

'Good Lord! You don't mean he was in a position to blackmail you? What have you been a-doing of?'

'Look here, I don't want it to get to the police that I know more about him than I've told them. All the same, (and keep this under your hat until I've decided what to do) except that I admitted I'd met him and had run against him in the cross-country challenge, you may as well face it that I've told them damn-all, and that's how it's going to stay.'

'Leave out the damn, man, and tell Aunt Adela the all. She won't let you down. I can vouch for her. You'd better seek her out in the drawing-room lounge tonight. You're pretty certain to get it to yourselves after dinner because everybody either looks in on the television or props up the bar. Talk to her like an erring but favourite grandson. Lay bare your youthful bosom. You must give her something to go on, you know. She can't be expected to start from scratch and still steer your colours past the winning post.'

'Do jockeys start from scratch?' asked Richardson, looking more cheerful. 'I thought they were handicapped by weights.'

'All right, all right! She can't be expected to carry unfair and extra weight because she lacks the salient facts of your case. Be reasonable.'

'Yes, of course. Yes, I agree. All right, then. You do think I'm in a bit of a jam, though, don't you?'

'I still think you exaggerate the dangers, but I also still think it's better to be safe than sorry, therefore Aunt Adela is the answer, and I think you ought to tell her everything you know. Let's halt here awhile and let her and Laura catch up with us.'

'Who is this Mrs Gavin?'

'She's by way of being my great-aunt's secretary, but she is also a person in her own right.'

'Meaning?'

'A grand girl, our Laura. Anyway, you come clean and you'll never look back with either of them.'

'All right, then, let's stop and look at boats.'

'I suppose you didn't know the party of the second part?'

'The how-much?'

'The specimen who was in your tent when you went back there with the police. That there Bunt.'

'Never seen him in my life before and that's the gospel truth. I suppose he was the second runner on the heath, that's all.'

'Then what the devil are you worrying about? Suppose you do know something more about Colnbrook! What's it matter?'

'I've been framed. Somebody must have it in for me. That's the conclusion I've come to.'

'Well, think! Who's likely to frame you? When you've settled that to your satisfaction, just give Aunt Adela his name and address and, unless I'm vastly mistaken, Bob's your uncle.'

'Do you really think so?'

'Of course I do, you idiot! Put your faith in the Bradleys. They can't fail!'

'Well, if you say so,' said Richardson, but his optimism had faded again and he spoke despondently. They were traversing Keeping's Copse. Denis deliberately slowed, and then stopped.

'So you have thought better of it, Mr Richardson,' said Dame Beatrice, as disconcerting in her own fashion as her grand-nephew was in his. 'You are prepared to make shocking disclosures. I shall be very glad to hear them. Shall we make what, in modern parlance, I am informed, is called a date?'

'Well,' stammered Richardson, taken back by this display of omniscience and conscious also of Denis's triumphant yet tolerant smile. 'It's very good of you. Perhaps there are one or two things...'

'Of course there are. It would be extraordinary and inhuman if people told the whole truth at once. It might even be very dangerous. Let us now drop the subject and concentrate our thoughts on Beaulieu Abbey. What are your opinions on jazz, trad, twist, squares, cats and those delinquents who follow Siva the Destroyer without knowledge of the obverse of his medal-if, indeed, a metaphor in this connection be not entirely out of place?'

'The Preserver,' said Denis. 'Well, the refectory at Beaulieu seems to have been preserved, and something of the cloisters and a few extra bits of wall.'

Three arches of the Chapter House, too,' said Laura, 'and, of course, there's always the collection of lizzies.'

'Lizzies?'

'Vintage cars, dear.'

'Oh,' said Richardson, 'vintage cars. I see. Very interesting, I should think.'

'For good measure, the cloisters are haunted,' pursued Laura. 'Come on. Let's step it out. I want something to eat. Looking at people on boats always makes me feel hungry. You, Tom, had better walk with me, so that Dame B. and Denis can get together for a bit. They're by way of being buddies. Besides, you can confide your troubles to me as we go. I know Denis. Always sees the bright side. So fatiguing. Now you just tell me the worst, and I'll be as lugubrious as you like. Rely on me not to point out the silver lining.'

'I say, that's just what I want! How did you know?'

'Oh, Dame B. isn't the only psychologist among those present,' said Laura, waving a shapely hand. 'Now, then, fire away. Why are you all of a tremble about these deaths? You didn't bring them about...or did you? Speak slowly, distinctly and to the point. Did the vendetta begin at the cross-country rally, or do we seek to re-enter the womb of Time?'

Richardson did not answer until they had covered another couple of hundred yards. Then he turned his head and observed that Dame Beatrice and her great-nephew had halted to watch a sea-going cruiser which was making its way down-stream. He said,

'Well, it's a silly sort of story really.'

'So is Alice in Wonderland, if you care to think about it in that sort of way.'

'Well,' said Richardson, relieved and encouraged by this surprising analogy, 'I suppose it began when I, as secretary of our lot, accepted their lot's challenge.'