‘Difficulty? Why should I? Me and the boiler-’and there, we’ve knowed each other since ’e was born.’E’s me nevvy.’
‘Indeed! Did Miss McKay know that you went ratting in her cellar?’
‘No need for ’er to know. ’E pops me into the ’ouse, Tom do, and down the cellar, and we makes a goodish rattling noise to scare ’em into their ’oles, and then I ins with me apparatus and smokes ’em out and the dog, ’e gets plenty. That’s a good dog, that is. Belongs to the landlord at the Bull. Of course, I don’t allus work wi’ a dog, but the gennelmen needin’ the carcasses nice and fresh like, it were the best way to oblige ’em, so I made out. Never git rid of them rats in that cellar, I reckon, not while there’s still the smell o’ that ’op-manure about, which it smelt like a brewery first time they called me in.’
‘Did any rats escape from the inner cellar to the concreted one where the college staff keep their heavy baggage?’
‘Nary a one, mum. We see to that, my nevvy and me. Wouldn’t ’ave done to ’ave ’em gnorin’ the ladies’ baggage. No. We scares ’em into their ’oles and then we opens the door and nips in quick, and shuts the door be’ind us, and then I smokes ’em out wi’ me apparatus and the dog done the rest. No, you can rest assured, mum, that if there’s a complaint about rats gettin’ into that baggage-room down there, it wasn’t nothing to do with me nor young Tom nor old Towser.’
‘There is no complaint,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘I am much obliged to you for your information.’ She tipped the old man and Preddle drove her back to the college. ‘Seven o’clock this evening, then,’ she said to him as they parted.
‘With a rose in my hair,’ said Preddle, ‘and old Soames on a lead with a tartan bow on his collar.’
There was no doubt but that the saloon bar of the hotel had become a home from home to Highpepper youth. The door which led into it from the hotel vestibule was open, and Dame Beatrice, glancing in, discovered it to be crowded with young men who bore the unmistakable Highpepper stamp. They were, for the most part, extremely well-dressed, were large and healthy, had loud voices and brown faces. They held pint pots of beer and exchanged ribaldry and repartee with the two giggling barmaids, and when their pots needed replenishing they threw heaps of small change in a lordly manner on the bar counter where it had to be picked up wet with the overflow of that generous topping from the draught-beer which the barmaids inevitably gave.
Dame Beatrice enquired at the reception desk for the location of the private dining-room she had bespoken and a porter was summoned to show her the way to it. Scarcely was she installed when her guests arrived. Dame Beatrice drank sherry and the young men pink gin, and dinner was served at half-past seven. Goose with apple and prune stuffing followed what Dame Beatrice described as an honest, old-fashioned Brown Windsor soup, and the repast continued with apricot pie and ice-cream and concluded with a savoury.
The young men, respectful of good and plentiful food since, like the students at Calladale, they lived from one meal to another and were always hungry in between, entertained her almost affectionately in a relaxed, delightful way and, at the end, when the waitress had cleared the table, they lounged in two of the armchairs with which the room was provided and invited their hostess to come to the point.
‘What do you want to know about the rats and the rhubarb?’ asked Soames. ‘You know where the rats came from, and we can soon tell you about the rhubarb. At our end-of-term dance it formed the sole subject of conversation of a young girl whom some of us felt called upon, as hosts, to squire round the ballroom. So I said “Why not?” The rats, I admit, were an afterthought, and not a particularly good one. Now to tell us what it’s all in aid of.’
‘The murder of Carrie Palliser, the young woman whose body was found in the coach. It was owing to the fact that the Calladale students were anxious to return the rhubarb, which they felt certain had come from Highpepper, that the body was discovered at the time. There is not much doubt that whoever put it there hoped it would lie hidden much longer.’
‘More difficult to identify it,’ said Preddle, nodding his head. ‘Wasn’t it thought at first to be the younger sister, though? I saw something in the local paper, didn’t I, indicating that it was the elder one, after all?’
‘That is impossible, Mr Preddle! The police have been most careful to keep that particular bit of information out of the news. The dead girl was buried in the name by which she was identified, and she was identified as Norah Coles, née Palliser, a student at Calladale College. Officially, the body is still that of Norah Coles.’
‘Then where did I get it from?’ asked Preddle, frowning. ‘Because it really isn’t a new idea to me that it was the older sister.’
‘I would very much like to know where you got it from. Possibly from Mr Basil? I believe he was once a lecturer at Highpepper.’
‘He was, yes, but that was long before my time. No, it wasn’t from Basil. Could it have been from one of the Calladale girls?’
‘That also seems unlikely. But, if so, which one, Mr Preddle?’
Preddle, perplexed, scratched his head.
‘How can I make myself remember? Let’s see. I know so many of them in a vague and amateurish way. All the same, I suppose I ought to be able…’ He frowned. ‘Oh, yes, I know! It didn’t seem possible, you see, as I pointed out to Miss Colin.’
‘How, not possible?’
‘Well, we heard that Miss Palliser—Mrs Coles, the one at Calladale, of course—was going off on a holiday toot with Basil. You reminded me that he used to be one of the lecturers at our place. Well, from what I can learn, it was quite incredible that one of Basil’s piecee-missies should have gone and got herself murdered. Quite out of character, if you understand me.’
‘I don’t understand you, Mr Preddle. I knew of the holiday adventure, of course. They appear to have spent a week together at the Bracklesea holiday camp. Then we were given to understand that Mr Basil went climbing in the Cairngorms with a friend and broke his leg. This report of his accident turned out to be false.’
‘The Basil I’ve heard about wouldn’t have gone nearer the Cairngorms than Sauchiehall Street,’ said Soames. ‘My older brother was up when Basil was at our place. He seems to have been a bit of a legend. I can’t think why Ma McKay took him on. Surely his reputation had gone before him?’
‘One can hardly think so. Some facts are known to students, I believe, which would be received with incredulity in the Staff Common Room.’
‘You’re telling us, Dame Beatrice!’ said Soames, grinning. ‘But to Preddle’s point. Why “out of character,” old man?’
‘Once a girl gets into Basil’s grip, she stays gripped until he’s tired of her. He hadn’t got tired of Mrs Coles. They used to meet in road-houses and motoring hotels and so on, near Garchester, and frequently, at that.’
‘The week at the holiday camp may have caused an old man’s fancy to shy away from thoughts of love,’ suggested Soames. ‘Oh, I received some instruction in Eng. Lit. at school,’ he added, for the benefit of Dame Beatrice.
‘It does not appear to be the case that Mr Basil had fallen out of love with Mrs Coles,’ said she. ‘When he pretended that he was in hospital with a broken leg, Mrs Coles was keeping house for him in Northern Ireland. She was thought to have returned to college at the beginning of term and then disappeared. Several weeks later came the discovery of the body which was identified by her mother. Of course, the sisters were much alike. But I confess that I do not take your point, Mr Preddle, that it could not have been Mrs Coles’ body.’
‘Well, thank God for my good dinner and if you must know, Dame Beatrice, she’s been seen. I remember everything now.’