The Dog It Was That Died

by H. R. F. Keating

  ‘I suppose so. I hadn’t thought of that. Have you visited them all?’

  ‘By no means. Just the ones I’ve written about. I was at Marston Moor a few months ago, but I haven’t been anywhere else recently.’

  ‘Marston Moor? That’s in Yorkshire somewhere, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The man returned with the tea. While he set it out Roger finished writing his cheque. He handed it to Colonel Myles.

  ‘Thank you, my dear fellow. Dratted nuisance these banks with their early closing hours and all that nonsense.’

  A quick smile from under the spruce grey moustache.

  ‘You know a fellow called Boycott, Austin Boycott, who’s by way of being a colleague of ours?’

  Roger looked up quickly.

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  The colonel gave a short bark of a laugh.

  ‘That’s the one point on which he and I agree,’ he said. ‘Reform of the banking system.’

  Roger laughed.

  ‘Yes, he’s a bit of a firebrand, isn’t he?’ he said. ‘Do you know him well? I only met him properly for the first time a day or two ago, but I got treated to some pretty strong denunciations of this and that. I can’t remember whether the banks came into them or not.’

  ‘They probably did. He’s very hot on them. So am I, come to that. I think it’s my sole revolutionary opinion. But I wouldn’t say that the bond between us is so strong as to make us friends exactly. No, I regard him as an interesting chap to spend an hour yarning with once in a while. Did you know he is, as he puts it, in the pay of the British Government?’

  Roger looked at the colonel in astonishment.

  The kaleidoscope violently shaken. The new pattern.

  ‘Yes,’ said the colonel, ‘I thought that might surprise you. I found it hard to believe at first, but apparently it’s quite true.’

  ‘What is he being paid by them to do?’ Roger asked.

  ‘Oh, he was a little cagey over his exact duties. In fact I wouldn’t have believed him at all, only he happened to give me proof positive.’

  ‘Proof? What was that?’

  ‘Perfectly simple, my dear chap.’

  The colonel paused. A twinkle of pleasure in the piercing eyes. The conjurer able to see the rabbit safely lurking in the hat.

  ‘He showed me a draft payable to him. A War Office draft. Had hundreds of them myself in my time.’

  ‘And he wouldn’t tell you what it was for?’

  ‘Oh yes, he did. He was only too ready to. He told me it was for spying.’

  ‘Spying? But I thought you said he was cagey.’

  ‘Ah, that’s the point.’

  The colonel chuckled and took another piece of toast, limp and dripping with butter.

  ‘That’s the point: he told me with rather too much emphasis. You see, I’ve been able to detect two Boycotts. There’s Boycott the conspirator, and there’s Boycott the scholar. If you listen to him, you can tell quite easily where one is switched in and the other out. It’s really a question of how loud he talks. The conspirator practically shouts.’

  Again Colonel Myles chuckled. Boycott as a rival hobby to Cromwell.

  ‘I can’t say I’ve noticed this,’ Roger said. ‘But then I think in my limited experience of him I’ve only met the conspirator.’

  ‘He’s a good deal more in evidence than the other chappie,’ Colonel Myles said.

  The twinkling bright eyes.

  ‘So you didn’t believe him when he told you he was spying?’ Roger said.

  ‘Ah, it wasn’t that I necessarily completely disbelieved him. I think he has a private rule that there has to be a grain of truth in everything he says. But I didn’t take his claim at exactly its face value.’

  ‘So what do you think he was getting the money for?’

  ‘Do you know, I’ve given the matter considerable thought and I haven’t arrived at any satisfactory conclusion. It’s an interesting little problem. What could be described as spying that in real truth would earn money from the War Office, but that isn’t actually as bad as it sounds? I leave it to you.’

  The colonel leant forward. He poured them both second cups of tea.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Masticating his second piece of rich plum cake, Roger arrived at a plan of action.

  He finished the cake, modestly refused a third piece but accepted a third cup of tea. The man who had brought the tea things came in again to make up the fire and draw the curtains. The cold shut out.

  Roger allowed himself to feel at ease.

  When Colonel Myles had finished his third cup of tea Roger said:

  ‘I wonder if I might make a phone call before I leave?’

  The colonel showed him where the telephone box was, humped into his British Warm and left. Roger quickly entered the booth. The Bosun’s watcher might realize the significance of the colonel leaving alone and attempt something.

  Roger’s first thought was to get on to the R.S.P.C.A. and ask them to go and look after Cuchulain. But he decided to leave it for a little longer. If things went his way he would be able to go and get Cuchulain himself. Soon they might be having a long walk together to make up for this spell in prison.

  He rang instead the School number. The call was taken by Miss Hogan. He asked if he might speak to Miss Bloom.

  ‘What name shall I say?’

  The brisk question. The need for regularizing all incoming communications.

  For a moment Roger was tempted to describe himself as Professor William Bosenwite. Would he get a conspiratorial answer? Only the sudden thought that it might be Etain who would prove to be the conspirator stopped him. He said he was Mr Jones.

  ‘Is it a personal call?’ said Miss Hogan. ‘The staff are not expected to receive personal calls in office hours.’

  Roger drew a deep breath.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘it is a personal call, but it’s a very urgent matter, and I’d be glad if an exception could be made.’

  ‘I’ll see if she is in the office,’ Miss Hogan said.

  A long pause.

  Roger pictured the scene. Miss Hogan with her skinny hand neatly clasping the mouthpiece of the telephone and Etain opposite being put through a catechism about a nonexistent Mr Jones.

  At last the dead silence at the other end of the line ceased and he heard clonking sounds as if the receiver was being handed from Miss Hogan to Etain.

  ‘Etain Bloom speaking.’

  More than a trace of resentment.

  ‘Etain, listen, this is Roger. Sorry to have done that to you, but it was necessary. Now listen, I want your help. You’re due to finish work in a few minutes, aren’t you?’

  ‘In exactly seventeen minutes.’

  Etain’s voice coming primly back. Roger imagined Miss Hogan glancing sharply at the clock.

  ‘Grand. Well, could you come straight round to Kildare Street. I’ve been spending the afternoon with Colonel Myles at his club –’

  ‘Daddy’s a member there.’

  ‘Good. Then you’ll know it. By the way, do I gather from your last remark that we are alone?’

  ‘We are. But I wouldn’t put it past somebody to be standing just outside the door. When I see you, incidentally, I’ve got something to tell you on that subject.’

  ‘All right. But listen now, outside the club there is probably someone, or perhaps several people, watching for me. Could you come in a taxi and just wait an instant right outside for me?’

  ‘I say, you’re going the whole hob, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I am. I’ve just learnt something about Austin Boycott and I want to see him before the Bosun sees me. Do you have any idea where I could find him?’

  ‘Well, yes, I do as a matter of fact. Because he said something to me about it not half an hour ago. He’s gone to address a meeting.’

  ‘Hell, that doesn’t sound as if I’ll be able to get hold of him very easily. Where is this meeting? In O’Connell Street?’

&n
bsp; Etain laughed.

  ‘Heavens no. It’s a tuppenny farthing little affair in a school hall somewhere.’

  ‘That sounds better. Where is it?’

  ‘Wait a minute till I think now.’

  A wearisome pause.

  ‘No.’

  ‘No. What do you mean “no”? You haven’t forgotten?’

  ‘I have. But don’t worry at all. It’ll come back to me.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, really. Don’t you worry.’

  A sudden change of tone.

  ‘Don’t you worry at all, Mr Jones. I have the key and I’ll be right over with it.’

  She rang off.

  Roger went and peered into the darkness from a little window beside the imposing front door. He had no difficulty in spotting the white-faced Collins, leaning against a lamp post hunched in his belted overcoat. He looked extremely depressed. The pavement was damp from the intermittent rain.

  If Collins had informed the Bosun that Colonel Myles had left the club, plainly no immediate attack was being planned.

  Ten minutes later Roger saw through the slit of window a taxi turning into the street. As soon as it was plain that it was going to stop outside the club he swung open the big door and ran down the steps.

  On the far side of the road Collins sprang to life. He waved his two arms violently and the familiar big black American car started up from where it had been parked farther up the street.

  Collins ran across towards the taxi.

  By this time Roger had reached the pavement and had seen with relief that the person in the back of the taxi was indeed Etain. She pushed the door open and Roger scrambled in.

  ‘Rathmines as fast as you can,’ Etain called out to the driver.

  The taxi pulled away from the kerb.

  Collins came running round behind it. He made a grab for the door handle. Roger shoved down the window, leant out and brought his forearm down hard on to Collins’s hand. Collins lost his grip and staggered back to the pavement.

  ‘Hey, what’s going on?’ the driver said.

  He half turned in his seat and the taxi slowed down sharply.

  ‘Never mind him,’ Etain called out. ‘He has drink taken. Get away.’

  Coming towards them on the opposite side of the street was the Bosun’s big black car. Roger saw that the Bosun himself was at the wheel.

  He wondered feverishly what the big American car would do. Would the Bosun swerve across their path? And if he did what would be the reaction of their driver? He obviously had not much liked the incident with Collins and was unlikely to be ready to risk his vehicle in swinging clear. But he was accelerating pretty sharply now and they stood a reasonable chance of making a getaway.

  The two vehicles approached each other. There was little other traffic in the street at that moment. The Bosun could be seen looking from side to side judging the space.

  Roger held his breath.

  And then the Bosun swung away to the far side of the road and they were past.

  Roger flung himself round and peered out of the rear window to see what the Bosun was doing. The reason for his swinging on to the far side was immediately plain. He was making a quick U-turn and was going to come after them.

  Etain sitting in a corner and looking bewildered took hold of Roger’s sleeve.

  ‘What is it?’ she said.

  ‘The Bosun, didn’t you see him?’

  ‘What, in that big car?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Is that him then? I’ve never seen him before.’

  Roger turned to look at her closely in the gloom of the taxi. Surely this was the final proof that she at least was not the Infiltraitor?

  He relaxed against the leatherette of the seat.

  ‘Why did you tell the man to go to Rathmines?’ he said quietly to Etain.

  ‘I had to say somewhere to make him get away quickly,’ she answered.

  Roger twisted round again and looked back. The Bosun had stopped his car and Collins was peltering up from behind to get in. No doubt the Bosun had calculated that the slight delay was worthwhile. If it came to a chase Collins was a good man to have at the wheel.

  They swung round a corner.

  Roger whipped round from the back window.

  ‘Stop, driver,’ he shouted. ‘Come on, Etain, quick as you can.’

  ‘But the lady said –’ the driver began.

  ‘Here’s a quid,’ said Roger.

  He shoved his hand into his pocket and brought out one of Colonel Myles’s notes. The taxi pulled up with a squeal of brakes.

  Roger tossed the note in the direction of the driver’s lap, wrenched open the door and tumbled out on to the pavement. Etain was out an instant after him. He grabbed hold of her hand and, dragging her behind him, ran into the darkness of the nearest doorway.

  The taxi driver did not stop to give them as much as a glance. If people were going mad he was obviously going to get away as fast as he could. Especially with a pound note fluttering about somewhere on the car floor.

  Roger, crouching in the doorway with Etain, watched the red light moving away. It was going at a fair speed when the Bosun’s car came swinging round the corner.

  Had it got far enough away for it not to be obvious that the taxi had stopped? The Bosun’s car pulled expertly round the corner and gathered speed smoothly. Collins driving.

  In a moment it had shot past Roger and Etain’s hiding place. Roger waited a few seconds watching the two sets of rear lights rapidly fading into the distance. Then they were obscured by a bunch of other cars.

  ‘This way,’ Roger said.

  He marched Etain swiftly back on their tracks and round into Kildare Street again.

  ‘Well,’ Etain said, ‘you seem to have gone in for the adventurous life hook, line and barrel.’

  Roger sighed.

  ‘I’m afraid I have,’ he said. ‘And I’ve got to go on with it. The first thing is to get over to my flat as quickly as possible. The Bosun was watching it and Cuchulain was inside. With any luck he’ll have withdrawn his men when they ran me to earth at the club. I want to get back there before he finds out he’s not chasing me.’

  He hailed a cruising taxi in Nassau Street and bundled Etain into it.

  ‘Now,’ he said, ‘have you remembered where Austin Boycott’s meeting is?’

  ‘You sound as if you expected me not to have done,’ Etain said.

  ‘Well, haven’t you?’

  ‘Of course I have.’

  The smile in her voice in the dark of the taxi.

  ‘That’s grand. Now, how do we get there?’

  ‘Not we,’ said Etain. ‘I’m awfully sorry but I promised Mammy and Daddy I’d have dinner at home tonight. And I think I must do it if I possibly can.’

  ‘Oh, all right. I suppose you must.’

  Etain laughed.

  ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘Only that you sound so disappointed.’

  ‘Well, what’s funny about that? I am disappointed.’

  ‘I know. It isn’t funny. It’s nice.’

  Roger thought about this.

  ‘You can’t change your mind?’ he said.

  ‘Sorry, but they’d be awfully put out. It’s Daddy’s birthday.’

  ‘Oh, well then you must go. But can I ring you up later? I may have some good news.’

  ‘You surely can. And in your own voice if you like.’

  Roger got the taxi to drive all the way along his street. It caused a certain amount of commotion among the barefoot urchins in the doorways, but there was no other excitement. It was clear that the Bosun had withdrawn his forces.

  Cuchulain started barking like a mad thing as they came up the stairs. Roger let him out of his kennel room with caution, but he seemed no worse for imprisonment. He was in remarkably high spirits.

  Etain stood up very well to having her face licked.

  At last Roger managed to get the heavy leash attached to Cuchulain
’s collar.

  ‘From now on,’ he said into the hairy ear, ‘you’re coming with me. I think we can be useful to each other.’

  They all three walked to the bus stop where Etain had told him he could get a bus out to the school where Austin Boycott was addressing his meeting.

  Etain gave him final directions and the bus loomed out of the traffic.

  ‘Heavens, I forgot,’ Etain said as she saw it.

  ‘Forgot what?’

  ‘About Miss Hogan, what I was going to tell you about her.’

  The bus came to a halt. The three people standing in front of them made a rush towards it.

  ‘Tell me quick.’

  Etain skipped beside him as he followed the three determined travellers.

  ‘She told me today that she’s come into money,’ she said.

  Roger turned and looked at her.

  ‘Into money? Did she say how? How much is it?’

  ‘You’ll miss the bus. Austin Boycott may have left by the time you get there.’

  Roger looked at the bus. The three eager passengers had boarded it in line abreast. There was always the possibility that Cuchulain would suddenly balk as he reached the platform. It had happened before.

  ‘Where did she get it?’ he asked urgently.

  Abruptly the three passengers fell back. They were replaced from inside the bus by an enormously wide woman with a basket on either side of her like panniers on a donkey. If she was to get off everybody else would have to wait. The eager passengers backed and sidled down on to the pavement.

  ‘She wouldn’t say much about it,’ Etain said. ‘But I gathered it was quite a lot. Certainly more than the hundred pounds I got from Uncle Leo.’

  ‘So you did really –’

  Roger bit back the rest of the sentence.

  Etain smiled.

  ‘Did you think it was a bribe to me?’ she said. ‘You know, you could check on whether my Uncle Leo did die six months ago. It wouldn’t be inseparably difficult.’

  Roger’s turn to smile.

  The only sign that a public meeting was taking place at the St Peter’s Road School was that the iron gates leading into the dank asphalt playground were open. Roger went through them and stood for a moment in the wet darkness listening. Cuchulain lifted up his giant head and moved it about uneasily.