'Yes, but it gives a pretty strong light, you know, and the battery's new.'
'Quite so, sir. Well, now, if you don't mind just borrowing my torch while I stand by.'
'What on earth for?' Richardson realised that, unintentionally, his voice was high-pitched and his tone nervous.
'Well, sir, the circumstances being, as I say and as you will admit, unusual, I would appreciate it if you would just take another look at the body to make certain you don't know who it is.'
Richardson's heart failed him. The Superintendent suspected something! There was nothing for it, however, but to comply with his request. He accepted the loan of the powerful torch and unwillingly crawled into the tent. It was a complete and almost devastating shock to see that the body was no longer that of Colnbrook. What lay there was the corpse of a man considerably shorter than Colnbrook. It must be that of the other runner, although both men had changed their clothes since he had seen them last. Colnbrook had had on a rather aggressive check suit. This man had on a tweed jacket and flannel trousers.
Feeling sick, Richardson backed out of the tent and handed the torch to the Superintendent.
'I don't know him,' he said. This, at least, was true. 'But, well, it doesn't look to me like the same man,' he added, desperately anxious to cover up his first lie.
'Come, come, sir. You had a shock, I daresay, when you first saw the body. Not surprising, that. You can't identify him, then?'
'He's pretty persistent,' thought Richardson. Aloud he said, 'No, I certainly can't. What can have induced him to plant himself on me?'
'That we must find out, sir-that is, if he did plant himself on you.'
'What do you mean by that?' (Murder, of course! They must believe the man had been murdered! And what about Colnbrook? Could he have been suffering from hallucinations when he thought that the first man was Colnbrook?)
'We have to keep open minds, sir, when bodies are found in unexpected places under what might prove to be suspicious circumstances. That's all, sir,' said the Superintendent, soothingly. 'And now, come along, sir. Hop in the back and we'll soon find you a kip-down for the night. Best forget about this until the morning.'
'Shall I-do I have to attend an inquest or anything?'
'I'm afraid so, sir, but there's plenty of time for that. You'll only need to depose that you found the body. Then we'll have to get it identified, as you cannot help us there, and the rest is up to the medical officer. There's really nothing to worry about.'
'Sez you!' thought Richardson grimly.
The police car ground itself over the rough gravel until it reached the road which led to the hotel. It passed the hotel and turned through a shallow water-splash and up the main street of the sleeping village. At the top it turned to the right at the level crossing, and, some time later, after a smooth rush on an empty main road, it was driven in at the double gates of a large, red-brick, new-looking police station lighted fearsomely by the headlamps. At the back of this solid block was the Superintendent's private house and here the car drew up. Richardson was taken into the dining-room and given whisky and soda and a plate of biscuits and cheese. The Superintendent made no reference to the dead man in the tent, but drank whisky with his guest and then smoked placidly while Richardson, who found himself almost startlingly hungry, played havoc with the food provided.
The young man had brought nothing with him from his camp, but, when he was shown up to the spare room which had been promised him, he found pyjamas laid out on the small single bed and the Superintendent, indicating these, observed that they might be a bit on the large side but would be better than nothing. He then showed him the bathroom and an electric razor and wished him good night, adding that breakfast would be served at half-past seven. Richardson was aware, ten minutes later, that a car drove off, but after that he slept until a thumping on the door caused him to accept the fact, at first incredulously, that it was morning and time to get up.
The Superintendent's wife served breakfast. It was a misty morning, but this, she said, would soon clear. The Superintendent himself did not appear and Richardson, who had expected to be grilled as soon as breakfast was over, was not certain whether to be thankful or apprehensive when the wife observed that Jim would find it cold up there on the common.
After breakfast she settled her guest in an armchair by an electric fire and gave him the morning paper. He flicked over the pages to find out whether there was any reference to the dead man in the tent, but soon realised that that piece of news would not yet be public property.
At just after ten the Superintendent returned and Richardson was invited to step over to his office. Although the headlights and the lamp over the door had given him an impression of size, he was surprised to see, in daylight, just how large and uncompromising a building the red-brick police station was.
The Superintendent's office, however, was reassuringly like all other offices. There was an enormous desk with a swivel chair and two telephones, filing cabinets against the walls and an armchair for the visitor. There was a box of cigarettes on the desk and Richardson accepted a cigarette when it was offered and prepared to sell his life dearly.
'Just a point or two, sir,' said the Superintendent, with a geniality which made Richardson's blood run cold. 'First of all, what made you jump to the idea that the man was dead when you found him?'
Of all the questions which Richardson had half-anticipated, this was the biggest surprise and he was extremely hard put to it for an answer. He stared at the desk and then said,
'I don't really know, except that he didn't seem to be breathing. What I can't make out is how a dying man would have known that my tent was there-that's one thing-and then, well, the lights from that house, you know. You'd have thought that if he felt bad he'd have made for them in the hope that they would phone a doctor or something. So I'm beginning to conclude that he might have been dumped on me, as I had a feeling you yourself thought last night. I didn't think all this out at the time. It's what I've been thinking since; so I don't suppose I've answered your question.' (What did all this sound like, he wondered, and what had happened to Colnbrook's body?)
'Near enough, sir, near enough. Those ideas were in your subconscious mind, no doubt. All you've done is to bring them forward, so to speak, and rationalise them. It's the usual way, we find,' said the Superintendent.
Richardson was dumbfounded by this reasoning. He swallowed, and then said that anything he could do...
The Superintendent gave him a heavy, paternal smile.
'All in good time, sir. We'll be keeping the tabs on you, of course. Well, I think that's all for the present. You can get the bus back to the level crossing from here. You'll know your way from there. We've had to shift your tent a couple of hundred yards away from where you pitched it because we've cordoned off an area around the dead man and you'll find some of my men here and there on the heath, but you'll see your camp all right. Actually, where you'd pitched there'd be quite a bit of bog if we had much rain. You'll be better off on the higher ground where we've put you. How long did you think of staying in the Forest?'
'About another fortnight. A pal is joining me, but he doesn't want to camp, so we're transferring to the New Forest Hunt Hotel.'
'Does the hotel know they're to expect you?'
'Oh, yes, of course. I booked the rooms a couple of months ago. I've been having all my meals there, anyway. I mean, the hotel people know I exist.'