Henry said nothing, but waited hopefully. After a moment, Sir Simon went on, “It’s perfectly clear what happened. I saw him go aground, you know, before I left the house. About nine o’clock, it must have been.”
“Did you?” Henry was deeply interested.
“Yes. I remember it distinctly. I saw the boat go ashore, and I couldn’t believe it was Pete. There are several Dragon-class boats in the river, so I took a look through the glasses to make sure which one it was. But it was Pete all right—I could even make out the Royal Harwich burgee. I could hardly believe my eyes.”
“Did you watch him to see what he did?”
“What should he do? Just the ordinary things. Got the sails off her, and so on. I didn’t watch him for long—I had to get to Ipswich. It did occur to me, though, that he might be feeling a bit under the weather. I mean, it was so unlike the man...broad daylight, and he knew the river like the back of his hand.”
“I suppose it’s inconceivable,” said Henry, “that he should have run aground on purpose?”
To his surprise, Sir Simon did not immediately refute this idea. He looked thoughtful. “Funny you should say that,” he said. “I almost wondered myself... But it’s a preposterous idea. Why ever should he do such a thing?”
“I don’t know.” Henry rubbed the back of his neck abstractedly. “By the way, did Priscilla go out that day?”
Sir Simon looked surprised. “Go out?” he repeated. “I think it’s highly unlikely. We don’t lead much of a social life these days, you know, and my sister isn’t—”
Henry grinned. “I meant the boat,” he said.
“Oh, you mean Priscilla. Good heavens, no.” Sir Simon was emphatic. “In the fog? It would have been madness.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Of course I’m sure. The only other person who handles her besides myself is Riddle, and he’s not a lunatic. He’d never have managed the channel in bad visibility.”
“I suppose, though, that some unauthorized person could have—”
“My dear Tibbett, what on earth are you suggesting?” Sir Simon was at once amused and slightly nettled. “In any case, what does it matter whether she went out or not?”
“It probably doesn’t,” said Henry. “I’m sorry.”
David and Colin came ashore at half past seven, and Henry found himself standing next to David at the bar, waiting for Bob to replenish the beer mugs. The landlord was as sprightly as a sparrow, darting about his business among the big, dark barrels. When he saw Henry, he came over at once.
“What can I get you then, Inspector?” he asked pertly. “Always see the law gets served first, that’
s my motto. Never know when you’ll need a p’liceman.”
“Two pints of bitter, please, Bob,” said Henry.
David had turned to look at Henry. “Are you a policeman?” he asked.
“Yes. When I’m on duty.”
David said nothing, but his face had grown grave.
“What’s that you say, Tibbett? A policeman?” Sir Simon’s voice came resoundingly from behind Henry’s left ear. “A great sleuth from Scotland Yard, eh? Who’d have thought it. We’d all better mind our Ps and Qs, what?”
“I’m trying to forget my job at the moment,” said Henry. “I’m on holiday.”
“Had a lot of your chaps nosing round after the burglary,” Sir Simon went on. “Not that they did any good. Waste of the taxpayer’s money. Fellow got clean away.”
“Still, I wouldn’t give up all hope of getting your property back,” said Henry. “The case isn’t by any means closed, you know.”
Sir Simon snorted. “After nearly two years—”
“All the same,” said Henry, “you never know. Excuse me—my wife is waiting for her drink.”
He made his way back to the inglenook where he had left Emmy, and found her in conversation with Herbert. To be more accurate, Herbert was carrying on a monologue, which—through the mists and mazes of his rolling Suffolk accent, aided and abetted by several missing teeth—was virtually incomprehensible. The gist of it seemed to be a dark tale of the disasters which had overtaken various boats unlucky enough to fall into the hands of Bill Hawkes, but the details were far from clear. Fortunately, however, Emmy’s encouraging nods and appreciative monosyllables seemed to satisfy the Harbour Master. Only once did he show disapprovaclass="underline" he had reached an exquisitely comic highlight in an anecdote, and broke suddenly into a delighted cackle of laughter, in which Emmy, who had been taken by surprise, failed to join. Herbert gave her a cryptic look.
“There’s them as ’as a sense o’ ’umour and them as don’t,” he remarked, severely. “Take Mrs. ’Ole.”
Quickly, Emmy diverted the conversation to the ever-absorbing topic of Mrs. Hole’s feet: but she felt considerably relieved to see Henry making his way back to the table with his cargo of glasses.
Herbert greeted Henry affably. “Comin’ to the ceremony?” he enquired, graciously.
“You mean the inauguration of the new mayor?”
“Hay?”
“The new mayor,” Henry shouted raucously.
“Ar. Next Sat’day. Proper booze-up,” said Herbert succinctly.
“Yes, we’ll be there,” Henry bellowed. “I understand you’re running for office.”
Herbert looked suspicious. “I don’t do nothing what’s not legal,” he said defensively. Then, after a pause, he added, “Never ’ad the perlice in, up to now.”
“Of course not,” said Emmy, slightly baffled.
“Will ’ave this time, though, eh?” Herbert gave Henry a sly dig in the ribs with his skinny elbow. Henry looked surprised. “You,” explained Herbert.
“How did you know I was a policeman?”
“Size of yer boots, o’ course,” retorted Herbert impishly. But a significant jerk of his head indicated the landlord of The Berry Bush. “All round the borough, it is,” he said. “You’ll ’ear some pretty tales, I wouldn’t wonder, now they know ’oo y’are. Not so fancy as what you might ’ave ’eard a while back, though.”
“What do you mean?” Henry asked. But Herbert contented himself with dark rumblings about people who minded their own business, and least said soonest mended, and eventually took himself off to cadge a drink from Alastair.
Emmy glanced quickly round to make sure that she could not be overheard, and then said softly, “Wasn’t Bob Calloway a fence?”
Henry nodded. “We always thought so,” he said. “Couldn’t ever prove anything. It’s extremely interesting to find him here.”
“Perhaps,” said Emmy, “Priscilla is right, and her precious jewellery will turn up after all.”
“If it’s still intact,” said Henry, “it’s almost certainly in the neighbourhood. But it’s a hell of a place to search.”
“Do you think,” Emmy ventured, “that the robbery could be connected with...with the other...?”
“I don’t know,” said Henry. “And the fact that everybody now knows who I am isn’t going to help.”
David Crowther came over to the table and sat down.
“Nothing but boring talk about today’s sailing over there,” he said. “Colin and I are regarded as spineless outcasts because we didn’t go out. I simply cannot understand the passion that some people have for making themselves thoroughly uncomfortable and then boasting about it afterwards.”
Henry grinned sympathetically. “I’m on your side,” he said.
David finished his drink in one gulp. “Well,” he said, “I’ll be off now. It’s a long drive to London in my old bus. Will you be here next weekend?”
“If we’re not drowned,” said Emmy cheerfully.
Surprisingly, David said, “Yes. Do be careful, won’t you? Well...goodbye. Till next Friday.”
He collected his oilskin jacket and went over to say goodbye to the other members of the Fleet. Henry heard Anne saying, “But what are you doing on Wednesday, David? You always say you never go out, and it’s the first party for ages that Colin and I—”