‘And now,’ said Mrs Bradley, ‘to the affair of your grandmother’s aunt, and your own relationship to the duck-billed platypus.’ The inspector cocked a wary eye.
‘You’ve got your opinion ready, ma’am?’
‘Yes, I have. The man is undoubtedly mad.’
‘Then…?’
‘We now have to make certain where he went and what he was doing during the two years which went by between the inquest on the child and the disappearance of Miss Murchan. I’ve no doubt that he went to a mental hospital, as you say. If he was discharged as cured, something has upset him again. He’ll have to be taken care of. He’s dangerous, of course, poor fellow. I should say he’s been an unbalanced person from boyhood.’
‘But, by your own showing, ma’am, there’s something fishy about him coming to the College like this.’
‘Not if he had heard from an interested party that I was going to be here alone. It’s possible, you know, that the party in question had told him I murdered the child.’
‘Miss Cornflake, ma’am, that you mentioned to me this morning?’
‘And thereby hangs a tale, and a rather queer one,’ said Mrs Bradley to herself, when the inspector had gone, taking the unfortunate lunatic with him. She waited until the house was empty and all the servants were gone, then she walked over to the Chief Engineer’s house where she had arranged to leave her keys.
‘Then, if I want to come back early, for any reason, I can get into Athelstan without trouble,’ she had announced.
George drove her to the station, and she remained there for an hour, studying the local time-table and talking to the station-master and the booking clerk. The results of these conversations were negligible, as she had expected that they would be, for it had been in the highest degree unlikely that one student among so many should have been especially remarked at the station. If it became necessary to trace Miss Cornflake’s movements in order to discover her real address, the police would be the people to do it; and as to connecting her movements with those of the insane Mr Princep, well, that was a task which could wait.
Mrs Bradley returned to Athelstan, superintended the locking up of the house, and ordered George to drive to Lincoln, where she proposed to spend the night, and from where she would telephone her nephew.
Once at Stanton St John, it seemed permissible and even desirable to relate her adventures, and the family, including Ditch, Mrs Ditch and Our Walt, her nephew Carey’s servants, were encouragingly enthralled by the recital.
‘And now,’ said Carey, on the third morning of her stay, ‘for news of the other Christmas visitors.’
He had letters, two of which he passed across to Jenny. ‘Ferdinand and Caroline are coming, with Derek; Sally says she’s coming on the day after Boxing Day, bringing her dog, and Denis has broken up at school, so he’ll be here today. Good thing we knew beforehand, because this letter wouldn’t have helped much! And — oh, he’s bringing another kid with him.’
‘They’ll have to pig in together,’ said Jenny. ‘Then, let’s see: Ferdinand and Caroline can have the room next to Aunt Adela’s, and Sally and the dog can have that little room next to the bathroom. I don’t know what to do with Derek. Do you think — no, it would spoil it for Denis and his friend. Oh, well, we’ll just poke him in somewhere. He won’t mind. If nothing else offers, he’ll have to have a camp bed in the kitchen. It’ll be warm there, anyhow. Aunt Adela, more coffee?’
Breakfast over, everybody went through the morning ritual of ‘seeing the pigs’. After that, George, who was sharing a room with Our Walt, drove Mrs Bradley into Oxford so that she could purchase Christmas presents. She had been half-expecting to hear that Jonathan was coming for Christmas to his cousin’s house, as had been his custom for the past year or two, but concluded that he was remaining at Deborah’s home.
To her surprise, she met him in the High Street, and saw him before he saw her.
‘Hullo! What are you doing? I thought you were in Edinburgh,’ she said. Jonathan seemed pleased to see her.
‘We were coming on to Carey’s as soon as we’d finished shopping,’ he answered. ‘Matter of fact, we called at the College yesterday, thinking you might still be there chasing your lunatic. Deb. was horribly worried about you.’
‘My lunatic chased me,’ Mrs Bradley responded, ‘so I came on, after all. I’m sorry you bothered.’
At this point Deborah appeared, bearing several parcels. Mrs Bradley, rather touched by the warmth of her greeting and her obvious relief at finding her safe and sound, told her to put the parcels into the car and directed George to drive on.
‘Could George drive me to the post office? I want to send a wire home,’ said Deborah, when they were settled.
‘And I’ll telephone Jenny,’ said Mrs Bradley, ‘and let her know you are coming.’
They lunched at the Mitre, and, after some argument from the engaged couple, who declared that they were staying two nights in Oxford, and then were going to London for three or four days, George drove the whole party to Stanton St John. Mrs Bradley had noticed that the burden of the protestations had been borne by Deborah; Jonathan had joined in perfunctorily, but seemed pleased when objections were all overruled and the car was en route for Old Farm.
‘I love this country-side,’ said Deborah suddenly. The car, which had come up Headington Hill, had turned left by New Headington, and was following the Roman Road. It was cold on the return drive. They had not hurried over lunch and the sun was low and dusk at hand, even by the time they had covered the short distance from the city.
They went in and stood before the huge fire which Mrs Ditch was even then making up as they came in. Jenny kissed Deborah and welcomed Jonathan. ‘But, really, Jenny, I’m not going to stay here, and put you all about. It’s a real family time,’ began Deborah.
‘You’re part of the real family,’ said Jenny firmly. ‘Besides, the babies want you to stay, and they always have their own way. Carey gives it to them, and it’s too much to expect that I can cope with them and him, so I don’t attempt to do it. Jonathan will have to share the kitchen with Derek and the turkey, but it’s easy enough to fix in another female, so don’t do any more arguing, there’s a lamb.’
‘Did you have a nice term, dear?’ asked Kitty’s mother anxiously.
‘So, so,’ replied Kitty. ‘I couldn’t bear it if it weren’t for old Dog; but still, so long as she’s around, I can make out.’
‘Any adventures?’ inquired Kitty’s eleven-year-old brother.
‘Stacks! Ghosts, murder, old Dog nearly getting pneumonia, somebody slashing up coats and breaking open trunks and tins of disinfectant, School Prac, all sorts of rumours that the last Warden disappeared at the end of last term, although some only say she was ill, and…’
‘What was that about Laura getting pneumonia, dear,’ asked her mother, detaching from this welter of rhetoric the one accessible and assimilable fact.
‘I’ll sing seconds,’ said Alice.
‘We thought perhaps when you came home from that there College, you’d be too grand to come out carol-singing with the Church,’ said one of the sopranos.
‘Oh, no, of course not,’ said Alice, distressed at the idea. ‘Of course I shouldn’t be too grand. I’m not grand at all. I’m going to work for my living, like everybody else, when I’ve passed my examinations. Who plays the harmonium now?’
‘Mr Twillett. Mr Ross has got his rheumatism bad again. It’s cold work, that harmonium is.’
‘Brother and Sister Tupper have kindly invited the choir to stop at their house for refreshments tonight,’ announced the choirmaster, ‘so we shall do Percy Street, Braddock Street and Towcester Street going, and Willmott Street, Upper Swan Lane and Bootin’s Corner coming back. Would those with electric torches light the harmony, please? I think the air can manage.’