I grinned. ‘Yes.’
‘Good. The only trouble is that, even if we replaced the key in some more obvious place for them to find, there’s no real possibility that they would guess what door it opened. You did,’ he glanced at me again, almost shyly this time, and the expression in his eyes moved me profoundly, ‘but they are not you.’
It took a moment or two before I thought I could speak without giving myself away. ‘We could leave them a more informative clue, I suppose,’ I said tentatively, ‘but why would we want to reveal – oh!’ Suddenly I understood.
‘Quite!’ said Jack with a smile. ‘They thought Ginger and I discovered something when we went back to search Osmund’s cell again. But Ginger said otherwise, because he didn’t know about the key. If they believed him – and we have to hope they did – then their next action may well be to go to Osmund’s cell themselves, in the hope of finding what we missed. And we-’
‘We are on our way to make quite sure they do just that,’ I finished for him. ‘What have you in mind? And where should we hide it?’
We were hurrying now, out on the open road crossing the Great Bridge, and he waited until we were safely over and had dived off into the network of alleys and passages surrounding the centre of the town. Then he leaned down and whispered the details of his plan into my ear.
The house where Osmund had lodged with his fellow priests was near St Bene’t’s. It was composed of four long, low buildings set around a courtyard, and the lack of either visible activity or lights in the windows suggested that the young priests kept early hours. I followed Jack as he ran soft-footed along the covered cloisters, then slipped into the deep shadow of a narrow passage between one building and the next. We waited for a while, but there was no sign to say that anyone had seen or heard us.
We emerged again and Jack led the way to the door to Osmund’s cell. It opened, and we went inside. Jack shut the door and checked that the shutter was securely fastened over the one small window, and then he struck a light, putting it to a cheap candle that stood on the floor beside the bed.
Very meagre accommodation, and it smelt of dirty feet and musty damp.
Jack and I stood close together in the middle of the cell. Then Jack reached inside the pouch at his belt and took out a small circular wooden token. He held it out to me, and I saw that it had a shape like the letter P carved into the surface, and inside the loop of the P there was a stylized image of a stubby little boat with a billowing square sail.
‘This will suggest Robert Powl to anyone who should find it,’ I whispered. The same device was on the real sails of his life-sized boats. ‘But will that link be enough to lead them to the little room at the end of the passage?’
Jack nodded. ‘I believe so. Not them, necessarily, but the man for whom they work will know. He’s already searched Robert Powl’s house, barn and warehouse, and it should be fairly easy for him to find out what other property Powl owns.’
Fairly easy. I thought about that. I also thought that the tentative idea I’d come up with concerning who was behind the crimes might be right.
We inspected every inch of the little room, searching for a hiding place. It wasn’t easy, for while it had to be somewhere others could find, they shouldn’t do so with an ease that would raise their suspicious as to why it hadn’t been discovered before.
Jack found a suitable place. He had been working right round the door frame, gently feeling the gap between wood and wall, when he came to a spot where the straw and muck daub gave to the touch. He beckoned me over.
Holding the area of daub carefully away from the door frame, he said, ‘Put the token in here; your hands are smaller than mine. There’s a space behind here – careful!’ I had been too eager, and the loose flap of daub threatened to crack off. I spat on my finger and rubbed it along the joint of the flap, merging the dirt to disguise it. Then I reached up to put the token into the dark little space. ‘Push it well in,’ Jack added, ‘we want it to be adequately hard to find.’
I did as he said.
My questing fingers found a little shelf along the top of one of the wood beams going horizontally across the wall, hidden away behind the daub. I couldn’t see it but I could feel it, and was able to rest the token on it.
Then my fingers brushed against something else; something that was already there. It was soft to the touch – cloth, I guessed – but the softness covered something small and hard. A little bag with something inside?
Very carefully I pulled it out, and I was just about to remark on it when there came the sound of footsteps, slowly pacing along the cloisters. Quickly I shoved the object inside my satchel, just as Jack grabbed my free hand.
He opened the door a crack and looked out. Walking slowly along the cloister on the opposite side of the quadrangle was an elderly priest, bent over, mumbling to himself, and happily oblivious to anything but his own stumbling progress. He opened one of the row of doors and went in. Jack and I took our chance and ran.
We didn’t run far. We emerged from the priests’ lodgings and jumped the low wall into St Bene’t’s churchyard, from which we could watch the quadrangle through a gap between two of the rows of cells.
‘What if they don’t come tonight?’ I hissed after quite a long time.
‘Then we’ll watch again tomorrow,’ he hissed back.
I was almost sure we were wasting our time. But, round about the middle of the night, when the moon was riding high and the clouds had melted away – it had grown very cold – two men materialized out of the shadows and ran light-footed across the churchyard and into the quadrangle. One was thick-set and brawny, and wore a dark hood pulled up over his head, concealing his face. The other was small, slight and light on his feet; he moved like a dancer. Jack and I moved out of our hiding place so that we got a better view of the door to Osmund’s cell, and watched as the smaller man went inside. A light flickered briefly, then disappeared as the door was closed. The big one stood guard, arms folded across his impressive chest.
The small man was in the cell for a long time. At one point he put his head out and whispered something to his companion, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness. The big man cuffed him quite hard across the head, and the little man went back into the cell.
He emerged again quite soon after that. He held up a small object, and both he and the big man ran off. It looked as if Jack’s ruse had worked.
We gave them enough time to get well away, then left the churchyard. ‘I hope,’ I said as we strode along, ‘we’re not now going to the room at the end of the passage to watch for them there, too?’
Jack grinned. ‘It’s tempting, but I don’t think so. Those two will have to report back to their master, since the token alone doesn’t tell them anything. I shouldn’t think we need keep a watch on Osmund’s workroom till tomorrow night. And,’ he added after a pause, ‘it won’t just be you and me doing it.’
Something about the way he said it made me very anxious.
We crossed the Great Bridge and turned off the road towards the deserted village. I was already tense with nervous excitement. There wasn’t much left of the night, and I was beyond tired, but very soon Jack and I would be in bed together. At that thought, my exhaustion vanished.
We reached the house and went inside. I turned hungrily to him, and, as if he couldn’t wait any longer either, he took me in his arms and kissed me, long and hard.
But then, gently, he disengaged himself and pushed me away.