‘Maybe, but that does not entitle you to encroach on my flanking-towers.’
‘Oh, my dear fellow,’ said Malpas, still smiling but with an edge to his voice, ‘you mustn’t be greedy! According to that plan which you drew so expertly on the damp sand, you expect to uncover the foundations of at least ten of the things. Surely to lose one of them is no great matter.’
‘It matters to me. You might as well say that the loss of one plate out of a priceless dinner-service is no great matter, but I don’t think the owner would agree with you, any more than a person who had an unique set of chessmen would think that a missing or replaced and inferior pawn did not matter.’
‘It’s like this, you see, Edward,’ said Nicholas, ‘I agree with you that the primary grave is the one we are almost bound to find. It will be in the middle of our circle and too deep down to have been disturbed, we hope, but we don’t want to miss a secondary interment or a satellite grave, either of which will be nearer the surface than the primary burial. I can’t believe that one flanking tower (which, in any case, will only be a duplicate of all the others) can be regarded as of greater importance than secondary and satellite graves which will certainly not be duplicates of the primary burial.’
‘You are entitled to your opinion,’ said Edward, in a tone which belied these words, ‘but the loss of the foundations of even one flanking-tower would make every difference to my work on the site. If you insist upon completing the trench you have marked out with your pegs, my reconstruction of the fortifications will be ruined. After all, you have no proof that there were any secondary graves, whereas I know the layout of my flanking-towers exactly. We must go to arbitration, I suppose.’
‘And who is to arbitrate?’ asked Malpas.
‘The owner of the property or his secretary or bailiff. They will be able to tell us which of us has the prior claim to the site.’
‘Whose letter got there first, you mean?’ said Nicholas. ‘That seems reasonable. What do you say, Veryan?’
‘That my work is of greater importance than his. Finding out whose letter got to the landowner first is not going to solve any problems,’ replied Veryan, turning away.
‘Look,’ said Tynant, before he followed his leader, ‘I’ll try to persuade him to leave undermining your walls until the very last. If we find secondary burials during the earlier part of our dig, it may not be necessary to touch your foundations at all. How would that be?’
‘Thanks, but you won’t be able to persuade him to delay any part of his work if he doesn’t want to.’
‘Then I’ll get Susannah to have a try. It would be difficult for any man to refuse her anything, and I know he finds her very charming.’
Dinner at both hotels that evening was an unusually dull meal, Veryan appeared to be brooding, the two boys were tired and Tynant found it hard work to promote any conversation at all. At the Horse and Cart the usually mild Saltergate was sufficiently incensed by Veryan’s intransigent attitude to discuss it bitterly with his wife in front of the two girls and Susannah. Susannah, who had a foot in both camps, was silent for almost the whole of the meal and as soon as it was over she collected the two young women and the three went straight back to their caravan.
A little later Bonamy and Tom left the Barbican and went in Bonamy’s car to the pub they had discovered in Stint Magna. Fiona heard the car drive off and said she wished she were going with them.
‘I thought you despised their company,’ said Priscilla.
‘It would be better than that of the Saltergates tonight. What a dismal dinner! There has been a row. That was obvious. Even Susannah could not cope.’
‘Everybody was tired, that’s all,’ said Susannah, ‘and when people are tired they magnify trifles.’
‘I heard what Edward Saltergate was saying to Lilian,’ said Fiona. ‘He was hot under the collar and no mistake about it. No name was mentioned, but he was talking about Professor Veryan. I’m sure of it.’
‘There was bound to be trouble sooner or later, I suppose,’ said Priscilla. ‘There has been a clash of personalities. I imagine Professor Veryan will win. He is the stronger character.’
‘I am going out for a walk,’ said Susannah abruptly. ‘It is much too early to go to bed.’
‘She won’t be walking alone, that’s for sure,’ said Priscilla, when the door of the caravan had closed. ‘She has a date with Nicholas Tynant. I thought you might be tactless enough to offer to go with her.’
‘Not I. I’m aching with fatigue. All that navvying is no joke when it goes on day after day. I shall cry off soon and go and spend a weekend with my family. Oh, no, I can’t. They will be away. I shall cry off, all the same. I’m not only tired; I’m still most terribly bored.’
‘I wish I knew why Bonamy and Tom are here. I’m sure they’re not really interested in either architecture or archaeology.’
‘No, and they don’t seem to have picked up any girls,’ said Fiona, ‘so that’s not why they are staying.’
‘They take that car out every evening, you know,’ said Priscilla.
‘Only to do a pub crawl, I expect. Let’s play Beat Jack Out of Doors for fivepenny pieces, or shall we go up to the keep while the boys aren’t there and make them apple-pie beds?’
‘I thought you were tired.’
‘I am. All right, then, let’s hit the hay.’
‘Well, dinner proved us to be four strong, silent men,’ said Bonamy.
‘Funeral bakemeats was more like it,’ said Tom. ‘Something has happened. Something has fouled up the works. I wonder whether Susannah is at the bottom of it?’
‘How your mind does run on that pulchritudinous wench!’
‘Veryan has got his beady eye on her, and Nick Tynant knows it. That’s my reading of the situation. They didn’t say a word to one another at dinner.’
‘But Veryan is married, isn’t he?’
‘What’s that got to do with it? Probably divorced, like everybody else nowadays. I’ll tell you what, though. I shall put in a few more days of this sweated labour and then I’m going on strike for the weekend.’
‘During which time one of the others will find our well.’
‘It will still be there when I come back.’
Tom’s impression that Veryan also was attracted to Susannah was underlined by Priscilla. She voiced her sentiments as the two girls got ready for bed.
‘Would you call Professor Veryan a lecherous old man?’ she asked.
‘Ni l’un, ni l’autre,’ Fiona replied.
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Not old, not lecherous.’
‘He must be fifty.’
‘You can’t call that old.’
‘I’ve seen him look at Susannah.’
‘She is well worth looking at. She ought to be painted or sculpted or something, before she begins to get a middle-age spread.’
‘I finished my sonnet.’
‘Any good?’
‘Probably not. I always think I’m better than Shakespeare when I first finish a poem, but the feeling wears off later.’
‘I should think that’s a very hopeful sign.’
‘Which half of it?’
‘Oh, all of it; first that you think you’re good, and then that you realise you aren’t.’
‘But I am good,’ said Priscilla, piqued. ‘Of course I’m good. I’m not as good as I’d like to be, that’s all, but it will come in time. I know it.’
‘If Professor Veryan ever did contemplate a pass at Susannah, I wonder how she would take it?’ said Fiona, reverting to the more interesting subject of conversation. ‘He is more eminent than Nicholas and I believe he has money.’