They had, however, reckoned without the estimable Jackson, the Willoughbys' butler. Anticipating trouble, he'd hidden himself upon Travis and his desperados' arrival. Now he emerged to subdue the man with a handy cricket bat before setting off to warn the Trenchards. Not only was it Lady Willoughby's refuge but the gang's most likely next port of call, or so he thought. Unfortunately he'd chosen the wrong target. Nothing happened at the Manor and by the time the rescuers arrived at the Bell it was all over; largely due, I must say, to the courage and ingenuity of the vicar and Miss Pruitt.'
'As I say, extraordinary,' said Sir Neville, and all for lack of trust in the law. That institution must bear at least some responsibility, I feel. And now we are faced with the problem of Beatrice Pruitt.'
'Not really such a problem, sir,' said Miles.
'No? How so?'
'You are forgetting: I have nothing to charge her with. All was theory and supposition. The vicar told me some things before he died, but was careful not to incriminate anyone else, and Miss Pruitt has chosen to say nothing herself. There are several possible charges of course, but I doubt if any of them could be made to stick; for I can assure you that no-one will be prepared to testify against her. She has not even admitted to being the keeper of the tiara, and if she was, there is now no-one left alive to say so.'
Watching the big Daimler bumping away down the lane, Miles turned thoughtfully and joined the others.
'You look worn out, my son,' chuckled the doctor, passing him a drink. 'I must say, he has that effect on me too.'
Connie drew him down beside her. 'Well?'
'Well what, my peach?'
'Did you get away with it?' demanded Daisy. 'We're on tenterhooks!'
'Hmm? Oh yes, they're safe.'
'So it's all right? I mean about everyone fibbing like mad, and Gabriel opening the back door and giving Ronald an alibi and so on. They won't get into trouble?'
Miles smiled. 'You guessed all that too did you?'
'Well, actually —'
'And it should stay a guess,' said Miles firmly.
'Darling,' said Connie, 'What's the matter? Something is.'
'Well, I haven't been very honest either, you know. Sins of omission anyway. I couldn't tell him all the things I suspected or we'd have had to arrest half the village.'
'But you didn't know.'
'No, I didn't, but I've put folk in the dock for less. And now, confound it, he's offered me a job!'
'What sort of job?'
'Chief Inspector. He wants Teddy too.'
'Why darling, that's wonderful!' She gazed at him and frowned. 'Aren't you pleased? You're not, are you?'
'I don't know really. I half thought he might, but now he has I'm not so sure I want it. Can't speak for Teddy, of course. And how would you feel about living in Hampshire? It'd be a bit different from Town.'
'Where in Hampshire?'
'Somewhere near Winchester, I suppose.'
'I don't think I'd mind that. We could keep the flat on, couldn't we, for weekends?'
It was one of those mild January days that give promise of spring. Leaving their mufflers at home they ambled along the well-worn track into the forest.
'What is pannage,' said Connie. 'Shall we see pigs?'
'It's one of those ancient rights, like vicinage or turbary, though I doubt if Bert is entitled to it. The idea is that the pigs eat the unripe acorns, which can be dangerous to the forest ponies. They're all gone by November usually, so no, no piggies today.'
'Did you mention him, to Sir Neville?' she asked diffidently.
'After what he did for you? Of course not.'
She turned and hugged him. 'Oh, I love you, Miles Felix!'
'Did you really think I would? Officially I don't know anything about it. A man is missing, that's all. We turn left here.'
'Where are we going?'
'You'll see.'
They crossed a grassy clearing, startling, to Connie's delight, a small group of roe deer. They stood and watched the intruders for a moment, flicking their ears, before making off. The leafless trees stretched away in all directions, appearing in the distance to have no path between them. There was no wind and the sun was almost hot on their faces.
'Didn't you want to ride today?' she asked.
'You don't like riding.'
Connie coloured. 'How long have you known?'
'From the moment I saw you on a horse! It was sweet of you to pretend, but I'm not marrying you for your equestrian abilities. It would be nice if we could ride together occasionally but I won't mind if we don't.'
Connie felt intense relief. 'I might learn to like it.'
'You might,' he said, pointing. 'There it is.'
For a moment, Connie saw nothing. 'Why, it's a little house! Who lives there?'
'No-one now, I hope. Come on.'
It was no more than a shed, made of split logs. The door hung half-off, a hinge rusted and broken, and the single window contained no glass. There was nothing inside save a crudely constructed bed, a table, a worm-eaten rocking-chair and a drift of leaves.
'That mattress looks disgusting.'
'The floor, then?'
'Connie giggled. 'All right.'
They lay close together on a bed of leaves, their coats serving as blankets.
'Shall we?' said Miles.
'Yes please.'
'Here, let me help.'
'Oh, darling . . .'
A sudden loud gunshot shattered the stillness, echoing around them and sending a host of birds whirling skywards.
The End
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A Country Way of Death (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 4) Page 20