Hawke's Tor

by Thompson, E. V.

  ‘As you wish. I believe there are a couple of very bright pupils among them, but I doubt very much whether you will be able to persuade them to leave Cornwall. Most girls have already decided who they will marry, even before they leave school.’

  ‘I think you will find Miss Pendleton is not easily deterred from her purpose, sir. Had she been she would never have survived the Crimean War and the Indian Mutiny.’

  Amos’s words had the effect for which he had been hoping. Eager now to make a favourable impression upon his well-connected visitor, Colonel Trethewy said to Verity, ‘You were caught up in the troubles in India as well as the Crimea? I wonder if you ever met Horace Morgan, my estate steward, while you were there?’

  ‘The name sounds familiar, where was he stationed?’

  ‘I really don’t know, but he spent many years with the Honourable East India Company. I will have him brought to my study and you two can have a chat together while Superintendent Hawke brings me up to date on his inquiries into the murder of Morgan’s wife and the disappearance of his baby son. I have no doubt Hawke has already told you all about it? It is a dreadful business … dreadful!’

  Chapter 11

  TOM ACCEPTED THAT as the Cornwall Constabulary’s most senior superintendent Amos was the right man to introduce Verity to the Trelyn magistrate and was very much aware of the huge social gulf between himself and the Nightingale nurse. However, there was not too great a difference in their ages and he had found it easy to talk to her. In fact, she was probably the most interesting woman he had ever met.

  Not that there had been very many women in Tom’s life, the unsociable hours kept by a policeman had seen to that. He would like to have spent a little more time with Verity, preferably just the two of them, but he knew she would be leaving Cornwall in just a few days – and he had a murder to investigate.

  When he had completed the paperwork that required his attention in the Bodmin police headquarters, Tom set off on Amos’s riding horse for North Hill and Berriow Bridge, his intention being to interview the two possible suspects who had not been available on the previous day.

  His first call would be on George Kendall, the man reputed to have a violent temper and who, although married, was said to have had a tempestuous affair with Kerensa and been extremely angry when she had ended it.

  He would next visit the home of Jowan Hodge, who he felt must be a very lucky and shrewd man. Few copper miners had made money from their vocation … and kept it. Although rumoured to have had an affair with Kerensa, he was said to be happily married, in sharp contrast to Kendall.

  Hodge was said by the landlord of the Ring o’ Bells to have had trouble with Kerensa because she did not want the affair to end, even though she was married and had a baby. The inn-keeper had suggested this was because, thanks to his wise investments, Hodge was now a comparatively wealthy man.

  Halfway across Bodmin Moor and lost in thought about the questions he was going to put to the two men, Tom looked up and saw a young girl hurrying across the moor ahead of him. As he drew nearer he could see she was dressed in the manner of a gypsy, wearing a brightly coloured blouse and a skirt which was shorter than was customary among countrywomen. She was also barefooted and her long black hair hung loose almost to her waist. When he came close enough for her to hear horse and rider she turned her head but did not slow her pace.

  Reaching the gypsy girl, Tom reined in the horse alongside her and said cheerfully, ‘Hello, you’re a long way from anywhere.’

  Giving him only the briefest of glances, she replied, ‘I could say the same of you.’

  ‘True,’ Tom conceded. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘That’s none of your business. Where are you going?’

  ‘I’m heading for North Hill. I thought if you were going that way I might offer you a lift, up behind me.’ The girl was small and slight and he believed the horse would be hardly aware of the extra weight.

  This time the girl’s glance was longer and more searching and Tom was aware she was considering the advisability of accepting his offer. He was about to explain he was a policeman when he remembered that gypsies and policemen rarely got along together. He checked himself – and would be glad he did so.

  ‘All right. I’ve certainly done more than enough walking for one day – and it’ll get me home a sight faster…. Give me your hand.’

  He reached down and, grasping his extended hand, she leaped up and the next moment was straddling the horse behind him, exposing an expanse of leg which would have shocked women who lived more settled lives. Now, having helped to lift her on to the horse, Tom realized he had been right about her weight, it must have been less than half his own, even though she was probably eighteen or twenty years of age.

  They rode in silence for a while, with Tom very conscious of her arms which tightened about his waist whenever the horse made an unexpected movement. He was also aware that she occasionally rested her head against his back, as though tired.

  He was first to break the silence between them, saying, ‘This must be better than walking. Had you walked far before I met up with you?’

  ‘Too far. I left our wagon at dawn this morning to walk to my grandmother’s home, about three miles from where you met me, and was on my way back again.’

  ‘That’s a long walk in one day, but I’ve been backwards and forwards across the moor in the last few days and haven’t seen any gypsy wagons … not actually on the moor, anyway.’

  ‘My grandmother doesn’t live in a wagon caravan. She’s a gorgio, like my dai – my mother. My Dado was working on their farm when they met and they were married in a proper church. His family never forgave him, but my mother’s family welcomed him – well, most of them – and he’s very fond of my grandmother. She’s not too well right now and I thought he might have gone there to see how she was, but she hasn’t seen him.’

  ‘Are you saying he’s gone missing?’

  ‘I wish I knew. But he hasn’t been home for a couple of days and although he often disappears for a day or two he always tells me when he’s going to be away. This time he didn’t.’

  Something in what the girl had said struck a chord in Tom’s mind and, recalling what Bessie Harris had mentioned when he and Amos visited her, he said, ‘That must be a worry for you … but we haven’t introduced ourselves. I’m Tom … and you?’

  ‘Zillah … Zillah Smith.’

  ‘Zillah is a very unusual name … but a pretty one. Is your wagon actually in North Hill village, Zillah?’

  ‘No, it’s actually at Slippery Hill, on the Launceston road.’

  Now Tom knew his surmise had been right. He was giving a ride to the daughter of Jed Smith, the gypsy who dealt in unwanted babies. ‘That’s a couple of miles beyond North Hill, I’ll take you there then come back to North Hill.’

  He felt her draw back from him and she demanded, ‘Why would you do that, what do you expect from me in return?’

  ‘Only your company. Besides, after what happened at Trelyn on Tuesday night I’d like to make certain you get home safely.’

  ‘What happened on Tuesday night?’

  The question surprised Tom, then he realized that if Zillah had been alone in her wagon home since the murder she could have spoken to no one who knew what had happened to Kerensa Morgan and her baby. It was also highly unlikely the news would have reached her grandmother at her remote farmhouse on the moor.

  ‘There was a particularly nasty murder up here, at Hawk’s Tor. The wife of the estate steward at Trelyn Hall was found battered to death and her baby who was with her at the time is missing.’

  Zillah was behind him so Tom was unable to see her face but he sensed she was startled.

  ‘You mean … Kerensa Morgan?’

  ‘Yes, did you know her?’

  ‘I met her once or twice when we had our wagon on Sharptor, but my Dado didn’t like me talking to her. She did have me make a shawl for her when she was expecting, but he said she wasn’t a nice girl fo
r me to know.’

  ‘From all I’ve heard about her your father’s opinion was probably right.’

  ‘What have you heard about her, you’re not from these parts or I would have seen you before – and you don’t talk like a Cornishman? Where did you hear about Kerensa’s murder and how do you know what sort of girl she was?’

  Tom hesitated before replying. The chances were that if he told her the truth she would want nothing more to do with him. The duties of a policemen were seen as including moving on gypsies. To the establishment they were perceived as invariably dishonest and classed as vagrants. As a result, a mutual antipathy had developed between gypsies and those whose duty it was to uphold the law.

  Nevertheless, Tom knew that if he lied to Zillah now he would never have her trust in the future … and it was something he might need, especially as there now appeared to be a mystery concerning her father’s whereabouts. Tom felt strongly that the gypsy’s disappearance was somehow connected with Kerensa’s death and the missing baby.

  ‘I actually come from London, Zillah. I came to Cornwall a couple of years ago to help with a murder that was committed at Laneglos House and stayed on. Now I’m investigating the murder of Kerensa.’

  ‘You’re a policeman?’ The question came out in the form of an accusation, ‘but you’re not wearing a uniform.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be very practical to wear a policeman’s top hat when riding a horse, would it?’ Then, deciding to tweak the truth just a little, he added, ‘Besides, I spend most of my time in the police headquarters in Bodmin and don’t carry out normal police duties. I’m only out here now to help with the murder inquiries.’

  ‘And so you might be, but I don’t want to be seen with a policeman. I’ll get off your horse before we reach North Hill.’

  ‘That will still leave you with a couple of miles to go. Why don’t we skirt the village and I’ll take you all the way home, to see if your father’s back yet. If he’s not then we really should make a serious attempt to find him. There is so much going on around here at the moment that anything could have happened to him.’

  ‘Why pretend you’re interested in finding him for me? What is it you really want? The sergeant at Trelyn would be only too happy if he never saw him again. He’d have had both of us out of Cornwall long ago if Mrs Hocking down at Slippery Hill hadn’t let us stay on her farmland.’

  ‘I’m not the Trelyn sergeant. If you and your father are causing nobody any trouble you’re entitled to stay wherever you like … and with a murderer on the loose I’d be far happier knowing you weren’t staying in a wagon on your own.’

  Zillah spent some time thinking about what Tom had said before replying, then she asked, ‘Is that really what you are thinking? There’s no other reason you want to take me all the way home? It’s not because I’m only a gypsy woman and you know there’ll be no one else around when we get there and so you think you’ll be able to do whatever you like with me?’

  ‘Zillah, if your father is there I’ll be very glad for you. I’ll pass the time of day with him and go off happy in the knowledge that you have someone to look after you.’

  Tom knew that if Jed Smith had returned he would be having more to say to him than merely passing the time of day, but he was concerned about Zillah being in a gypsy wagon on her own in a remote part of the countryside with a killer out there somewhere.

  Zillah interrupted his thoughts by saying, ‘If you are going to take me all the way to Slippery Hill before you do whatever you’ve got to do at North Hill, I’ll show you a short cut which will take us to the west of both North Hill and Trelyn.’

  Delighted, Tom said, ‘That’s fine. On the way you can tell me when it was you last saw your father and try to think of somewhere he might have gone – and anything else that might help me find him for you.’

  Chapter 12

  WHEN HORACE MORGAN entered the room where Colonel Trethewy was talking to the two visitors to Trelyn and was introduced, it was immediately apparent that he felt uncomfortable about meeting Verity. Amos was quick to realize the Trelyn land steward was unlikely to reveal anything of importance about his past in the presence of his employer.

  Turning to the landowner, he said, ‘Shall we leave the two of them to discuss people and places they might both know in India, sir? I would like to know of any problems you might be having here, in Trelyn, and ask you what you think of Sergeant Dreadon, whether in your opinion he should be considered for further promotion….’

  When the two men had left the study, Verity tried to put Morgan at his ease. ‘I don’t think Superintendent Hawke is terribly interested in India, but I know he wants to discuss with Colonel Trethewy his investigation into the dreadful loss you have suffered, Mr Morgan.’

  ‘If there is any progress being made I would like to be the first to know about it,’ Morgan replied, belligerently.

  ‘I am quite certain you will be the first to know when he has something positive to tell. I believe he and Sergeant Churchyard are following up a number of lines of inquiry at the moment.’

  Her sympathetic tone proved effective and Morgan relaxed. ‘It’s an absolute nightmare. I thought I had left such happenings behind me when I left India.’

  ‘Were you there during the mutiny?’

  ‘Yes.’

  If he thought such a brief reply would satisfy Verity, Horace Morgan was mistaken.

  ‘Where were you during the troubles?’

  ‘I was stationed at Cawnpore, but when the mutiny broke out I had been called away to settle problems on an estate in the Punjab. I tried to get back to Cawnpore but it was already under siege and return was impossible. By the time I was able to return, at the end of July in ’fifty-seven it was too late….’

  His voice tapered off and Verity was shocked by the distress she saw written on his face. It was many moments before he regained control of himself and continued, uncertainly, ‘You know what Nana Sahib did there … the massacre?’

  ‘Yes, it was absolutely dreadful.’

  Verity was aware he was talking of the treachery of the leader of the mutineers who, with his army had invested the garrison at Cawnpore where a great many women and children had taken refuge when fighting began in the area and suffered unbelievable hardships as a result.

  The appalling scene of carnage that greeted the British soldiers who captured Cawnpore after a brief but bloody battle so enraged them that their retribution, carried out with primitive ruthlessness, was swift, indiscriminate and almost as brutal as the killings they were avenging.

  Showing genuine sympathy now, Verity said, ‘I visited Cawnpore some time after it was taken by our army and it was a horrible experience … but how fortunate for you that you were not there when it happened.’

  ‘Fortunate? There have been times when I wished I had stayed at Cawnpore with the others.’

  It was a moment of unguarded emotion and Verity said, ‘It could not have been easy returning to the scene having known so many who perished there. Were any particularly close to you?’

  Horace Morgan’s expression hardened. The moment of exposed raw emotion had passed and he said, ‘It’s not something I want to even think about … especially now.’

  ‘Of course not. It was insensitive of me to remind you of it. I apologize, Mr Morgan, let us talk of some of the happier things we both remember about India, no doubt there were many for you.’

  Leaving Trelyn in the pony and trap, Amos and Verity headed for North Hill school. Colonel Trethewy had sent one of his footmen ahead of them with instructions that the schoolmistress was to arrange for the most senior of her girl pupils to be gathered together in order that Verity might speak on the prospects open to them in Florence Nightingale’s burgeoning nursing service.

  On the way, Verity spoke of what little she had been able to glean from the Trelyn land steward in her conversation with him.

  ‘It was difficult to form any firm opinion of him,’ she said, choosing her words carefully. ‘He was
certainly very lucky to have escaped when trouble broke out in Cawnpore. That incident scarred the minds of everyone who was close to it in any way. What has happened to his wife and son here in Cornwall must have stirred many appalling memories that he has been trying hard to forget.’

  ‘So you think I might eliminate Horace Morgan from my list of suspects?’

  Verity hesitated before replying. ‘No, I don’t think you can. I am trying hard not to allow emotion and sympathy to cloud my judgement, but it is not easy. I visited Cawnpore when evidence of what had occurred was still apparent. Anyone as closely involved as Morgan with the people who died there will carry thoughts in their minds for ever of what they experienced and I have deep sympathy with him because of that, but – and I am unable to give you a logical reason for my thinking – I believe Morgan was far more closely connected with all that went on there than he is willing to say. He will certainly be no stranger to death in its most violent forms. I think you must keep him on your list of suspects, at least until you learn a little more about his background. I will try to help you if I can. I made a number of friends among those who worked for the East India Company while I was in India and many are back in this country now. I will make enquiries and try to find out whether any of them know anything about Horace Morgan and his time in India.’

  ‘Thank you … but here we are at the school and it looks as though the teacher has mustered girls of all ages for you. I’ll go off and see whether Tom has arrived to question the two other North Hill suspects. I’ll see you back here in a couple of hours’ time.’

  Chapter 13

  THE WAGON OWNED and occupied by Zillah Smith and her father was a well-kept vehicle which had gleaming patterned paintwork on the outside and an interior that reflected the care lavished on the outside. However, Tom was only able to admire the internal fittings of the wagon through an open stable-type doorway at the front of the gypsy home: Zillah did not invite him to enter.