The dining-room at the Agricultural Institute was also known as the Refectory, but there the resemblance ended. It was brightly lit and very noisy indeed. One hundred and fifty healthy young men were just coming to the end of a substantial meal. Fourteen staff were having theirs at the High Table on a dais at one end of the long room. Sundry maids were rattling dirty dishes through a hatch into the kitchen, and making it quite clear that they thought any meal which began at seven-fifteen should end by eight o’clock.
Marwin Ranby, sitting in the centre of the High Table, let the maids finish before he stood up. Students were easy to come by, maids much more difficult.
“Gentlemen, in its short life this Institute has acquired a reputation for outrage on the night that commemorates the failure of the Gunpowder Plot…”
There were several cheers.
“Usually the damage can be repaired by the use of one simple commodity. Money.” More cheers.
“And apologies, of course.”
“Good old Mr. Ranby, sir,” called out a wit. Ranby gave a thin smile. “Well, it isn’t good old anyone this time. Granted, in the ordinary run of events, we might have got by with a handsome apology to the Mother Prioress and an even more handsome contribution to the Convent funds…” Loud groans.
“This time it’s much more serious…” More groans.
“Yesterday, as you know full well, was November the Fifth. The evening before that—Wednesday—a nun died in the Convent. The police, who, as you know, performed an excellent rescue job on the guy…”
Loud laughter, interspersed with more groans. “The police,” said Ranby firmly, “tell me that that habit came from the Convent, probably the same day the nun died. Now, they’re not accusing anyone of being implicated in this death but they do need to know who it was who was in the Convent, how they got in and when. I think you can all understand that,” He looked quickly from face to face. “Now, I’m asking those responsible—however many of you there are with a hand in this—to come to my study at nine o’clock tonight.”
11
« ^ »
Celia Faine was in the Principal’s study with Marwin Ranby when Sloan and Crosby arrived. A maid had just deposited a tray of coffee on the table.
“Come in, Inspector, come in. How’s the chase going?”
“Warming up nicely, sir, thank you.”
Ranby eyed him thoughtfully. “I’m glad to hear it. I’ve got good news for you, too. We’ve got the culprits who made the guy.” He turned. “Celia, my dear, will you be hostess while I tell the Inspector about Tewn and the others?”
Celia Faine smiled and took up the coffee pot. “Don’t be too hard on them, will you? They’re nice lads and I’m sure they meant no harm.”
Ranby frowned. “No, I don’t think they did, but you can’t be too sure. William Tewn is the chap you’re looking for, Inspector. As far as I can make out, three of them initiated the scheme—a third-year man called Parker, and Tewn and Bullen, who are second year. Parker’s the cleverest of the three—clever enough to organise the expedition without going to any risk himself, I should say. Bullen and Tewn went over the fence into the Convent property on Wednesday night, while Parker kept watch. Bullen went as far as the outside wall, and Tewn went inside the building. He came out with the habit.”
“One moment, sir. How did you discover this?”
He gave a wry laugh; “They—er—gave themselves up so to speak, in response to my appeal after supper this evening. I’ve just been speaking to them and they’re waiting in my secretary’s room for you.”
“Sugar?” Celia Faine handed round the coffee cups expertly. Sloan saw she would be a great asset to the rather too-efficient Principal. “Tell me, Inspector, where do you think they kept the guy until Thursday evening?”
“I know the answer to that one,” said Marwin Ranby rather shortly. “In one of the cowsheds. That’s where they made it up from the straw and the old sack. They had their firewood all ready. I hadn’t raised any objection to a straightforward bonfire, you see…”
“No one thinks it’s your fault, dear,” she said soothingly.
“Nevertheless,” went on Ranby, more philosophically, “I suppose I should have thought something like this might happen… all the same, I don’t like it. What I would like, Inspector, are those three men over at the Convent first thing in the morning to apologise in person, to the Mother Prioress and the Community. It’s the very least we can do…”
“Certainly, sir,” agreed Sloan peaceably. Ranby had good reason for wanting to keep on the right side of the Reverend Mother. “If you want it that way. I don’t see that it can do any harm.”
But once again he was wrong.
Messrs. Parker, Bullen and Tewn were not too dismayed to find Sloan and Crosby taking an interest in their escapade.
“Just our bad luck that we chose a night when one of the nuns goes and gets herself killed,” grumbled Parker. “Otherwise we stood a good chance of getting away with it.”
“You must admit it was a good joke, Inspector.” Tewn was a fresh-faced boy with curly hair and a few remaining infant freckles. “Especially with old Namby-Pam… with the Principal going to be married at the Convent at the end of the month. Sort of appropriate.”
It was a long, long time since Sloan’s idea of a good joke had been anything so primitive.
“And?” he said dispassionately.
“Well,” said Tewn, “it was a piece of cake, wasn’t it?”
The other two nodded. Bullen, a slow-speaking, well-built boy, said, “No trouble at all.”
“Come on then,” snapped Sloan. “How did you go about it? Ring the front door bell and ask for a spare habit?”
“No, we went to the back door,” said Tewn promptly. “At least to the sort of cellar door.”
“And just opened it, I suppose. Without knocking.”
“Yes,” agreed Tewn blandly. “Yes, that was exactly what we did.”
“At what time was this excursion?”
“About half past nine on Wednesday evening.”
“And you expect me to believe that this door was unlocked?”
“Oh, yes,” said Tewn. “I just put my hand on the door and it opened.”
“And the habit?”
“That was there.”
“Waiting for you?”
Tewn’s freckles coloured up. “That’s right.”
“And you just picked it up and came out again?”
“That’s right.” Tewn poked a finger at Bullen. “I was only inside half a minute, wasn’t I?”
“Less if anything,” said Bullen. “Like I said—no trouble at all.”
“No trouble!” echoed an exasperated Sloan. “That’s where you’re wrong. There’s lots of trouble.”
“But if Tewn was only inside half a minute and Bullen confirms it,” said the third young man, “they can’t have had anything to do with this nun, can they?”
Sloan turned towards him. “You’re Parker, I suppose? Well, there’s just one flaw in your reasoning. How do I know that they’re not both lying? Suppose you tell me where you were at the time?”
“Here in the Institute,” said Parker.
“In the Biology lab, I suppose.”
Parker flushed. “Yes, as it happens I was.”
“Any witnesses to prove it?”
“No… no. I don’t think anyone saw me there.”
“Well, then…” Sloan let the sentence hang unfinished while he surveyed the three of them. “So you three arranged the snaffling of the habit, did you? And you carried out the operation according to plan without any sort of hitch?”
“That’s right,” said Tewn. “We never saw a soul.”