The Barker's Dozen - Reminiscences of an Early Police Dog

by Robert Warr

  Richard walked round the pit and looked carefully at it from all sides, then left the arbour and walked a few yards back along the path before returning carefully scrutinising the ground. The General started to say something but Richard raised his hand in a peremptory gesture for silence before kneeling and examining the earth that had been removed from the hole.

  ‘Well Richard, what do you make of it?’ the old man asked as his son stood up.

  ‘It appears that someone has dug a hole,’ the great detective replied with a straight face.

  ‘A hole!’ the General bellowed. ‘Any blasted idiot can see that someone has dug a hole. What ruddy use is it having a detective in the family if all he does is point out that someone has dug a hole?’

  ‘To be a bit more precise,’ Richard replied, laughing gently. ‘Two men actually dug the hole while a third person, probably a young lad waited in the maze proper. This third person was probably acting as a lookout.’

  ‘How do you work that out?’ the General snarled, obviously annoyed by his son’s rather flippant attitude.

  ‘Simple really,’ Richard said pointing into the hole. ‘You can see from the marks that two spades of differing widths were used to dig the hole. Where the lookout stood someone has spent some time idly bending yew trigs in the hedge. The damage is slightly lower than I would have expected.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Only that I think that they must be local and have some idea of the layout of the estate.’ Richard looked round and rubbed his hands together before continuing. ‘I think that you can ask Davies here to repair the damage.’

  The General turned to the head gardener and told him to start the repairs. He then suggested that we met for breakfast in half an hour so that we could discuss the matter further.

  Having already dressed for the day I spent the time before breakfast walking Snuffles and three of the house pack round the lake.

  Breakfast at Arlesford normally obeys an etiquette that James tells me is common in Officers’ messes in this country. The meal is eaten in complete silence except for soft voiced exchanges between a servant and guest. The loudest noise is the rustle of newspaper and the occasional ‘harrumph’ whenever the General reads anything that annoys him, which is quite frequent.

  This morning the four of us entered the breakfast room before anyone else and after a few courtesies the General dispensed with his normal conventions.

  ‘What do you make of this outrage, Richard?’ The old man emphasised his question by rapping the table with his knife.

  ‘I must admit that when my man woke me and said there was a big hole in the maze I thought that it was one of those idiot Spaniels again.’ Richard paused while one of the servants filled his teacup. ‘It seems to be a remarkably pointless piece of vandalism. I wonder if you have upset any of the locals recently?’

  ‘Not more than any other landowner and much less than some I’d wager.’

  ‘How about your recent changes to the village? Perhaps you have inadvertently destroyed part of someone’s garden and they decided to ruin your maze in return?’ James asked thoughtfully, ‘we all know that the common soldier can get very heated over his presumed rights and I doubt that the average villager is any better.’

  ‘I was careful when I started rebuilding the village although I own all of it,’ the General frowned slightly. ‘I made sure that my estate manager discussed my intentions with every family and where there were reasonable objections we altered the plans accordingly. You could be right though, James and I will have your suggestion checked.’

  I was aware that one of the maids was hovering as if she wanted to speak but was afraid of the consequences if she ventured an opinion. She picked up an empty tray and turned towards the door. I sighed with relief because I did not think that the General was in a mood to be told that his improvements had ruined her Grandpa’s turnips or whatever. I was, therefore, quite shocked when she loudly put the tray back on the sideboard and, turning to face the General, softly interrupted the conversation.

  ‘It’s not that at all, Sir, if you’ll pardon my saying. I think that someone has finally decided to find the Arlesford Treasure.’

  ‘The Arlesford what?’ the General bellowed again, the girl paled slightly and took a step back.

  ‘The treasure, Sir,’ she said, her voice firmer now that she was committed. ‘You know the one, Sir. Your Father took it from the Spanish and buried it in the maze.’

  ‘Young Lady, that is the most preposterous thing I have heard,’ the General was starting to become rather red in the face so Richard, leaning forward, whispered to his father ‘allow me’ and turned to the girl.

  ‘You are Mary Birch are you not?’ Richard asked in a very calm and pleasant voice. ‘You normally live in the village but stay in the house when extra servants are needed?’

  ‘I am and I do, Sir,’ the girl relaxed as she responded to the polite, calm questions.

  ‘As you will doubtless gather, we have absolutely no idea what you are talking about and I think that we would all appreciate it if you would explain further.’

  ‘You might not know, Sir, but if you were to ask anyone in the village they would all tell you that the Admiral’s Spanish gold is hidden in the maze. I don’t think many of them would believe that none of you were aware of the secret.’

  ‘Why do people in the village believe that there is treasure buried in the maze?’ Richard kept his voice pleasant but I could see a tightening of the skin round his eyes that made me think that he too was starting to become angry.

  ‘As if you don’t know!’ The girl was starting to sound rather haughty as if she was in some way morally superior to us all. ‘Some of us have Grandfathers too and some of they remember about the night the treasure arrived. The Admiral may have thought he was clever having his ill-gotten gains rowed to the house in the dead of night, but he forgot all about the poachers. You look startled, yes poachers, men you call criminal and yet who saw a greater crime...’

  ‘Be quiet, girl!’ Richard’s voice cracked like a whip stopping the maid in the middle of what was fast becoming a rant. ‘Please remember to whom you are speaking.’

  ‘I beg your pardon, Sir,’ the girl said in a small contrite voice. ‘I don’t know what came over me then, really I don’t.’

  ‘About this treasure Mary, please tell us the story and we will all forget any recent unpleasantness.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir. The story is quite simple really. It all happened back when the Admiral’s father was still alive and the Admiral himself was just a Captain, must be a hundred years or so by now. One of the Admiral’s ships anchored off the mouth of the Arle and three boats were rowed up river one night. When they reached the House a crew of sailors unloaded some heavy boxes, which were carried into the house, all secret like.

  ‘Some few years later the Admiral gave up the sea and came back to Arlesford. Once the new master was in residence things started to change, the Admiral spent a king’s ransom as he rebuilt the house and laid out new gardens. Nobody minded as there was plenty of work and some of the wealth of the House passed into the village.

  ‘There were some who were curious about the change in fortunes that allowed the Admiral to afford all these improvements. It wasn’t long before someone remembered the chests that were quietly rowed up the river. A few years later, one of the Admiral’s old sailors just happened to visit a relative in the area. One evening, he got rather drunk in the inn and told an amazing tale.

  ‘He was serving with the then Captain Thompson who had been ordered back to England from the West Indies. Half way across the Atlantic, they came across a Spanish galleon, chased it down and captured it. The ship was crammed with chests full of gold and jewels, tons of treasure. Now Captain Thompson was a poor man and although he knew that he would receive a lot of prize money, he decided that he could also take a few crates for himself.

  ‘For a while this treasure was hidden in the House’s cellars but after a while
the Admiral became worried that someone else would learn of his treasure, so one night he had it moved and buried in the maze.’

  ‘Poppycock! Absolute and utter poppycock!’ The General bellowed.

  ‘Deny it all you like, but it doesn’t change the truth of it one bit,’ the girl replied with spirit. ‘The proofs are all around you. It was Spanish money so the Admiral started breeding Spanish dogs.’

  The General had turned an interesting colour and was banging his fist on the table. The girl looked at him with some concern before Richard caught her attention.

  ‘Thank you for telling us that interesting story,’ he spoke pleasantly to the girl. ‘I think, however, that you should return to your duties before you say something that my Father cannot ignore.’

  Having been dismissed the girl left the room quickly and as the door closed, the General raised his head and let loose a howl of delighted laughter.

  ‘The whole tale is built on a few unrelated coincidences and the words of a paid off sailor who obviously found a way of getting free drinks.’ The General gasped as he controlled himself with some difficulty. ‘Why now, if they’ve had this fanciful tale for eighty years or so, why now?’

  ‘Eighty years?’ I asked mightily intrigued by this tale and hoping, rather perversely I'll admit, that there was treasure somewhere.

  ‘Isobel, all this happened a few years before I was born,’ the General smiled at me in a conspiratorial fashion and lowered his voice. ‘My father’s last posting was the India Station. As he came up the channel he anchored off the mouth of the Arle and had most of his dunnage rowed ashore. The boats stopped near the village because of the weir and his luggage was carted to the house.’

  ‘I know why this has come to a head now.’ James paused until he had everyone’s attention. ‘When you started improving the village you had the church renovated and a fine new marble monument erected on the Admiral’s tomb!’

  ‘Yes, but what of it?’ I asked.

  ‘The boy’s right,’ the General said approvingly. ‘On one end of the monument there is a list of the ships my Father served on while at the other end there is a list of the places he served, both lists are abundantly blessed with dates.’

  ‘So all someone had to do was compare the lists and see which ships your father served on in the West Indies?’

  ‘Two of them, the frigate Swiftsure and the Indomitable, a sixty-four,’ the General sighed and then winked at me. ‘You see, Isobel, what happens when you build a school and educate these people.’

  Saturday Afternoon

  I had hoped to spend some of the day with James but after breakfast, he joined his uncle and grandfather in the latter’s study where they have been closeted for most of the day.

  Rather than spend the better part of the day moping I decided to sit by the lake and try to sketch the house. I say try because, due to the attentions of Clara, Snuffles and various members of the house pack, I spent more time throwing sticks into the water than I did wielding my pencils. At last, exhausted and slightly damp from over enthusiastic Spaniels I retreated to a small folly, one of several that grace Arlesford. The enclosed sketch shows the house as seen from this faux Grecian temple, hence the pillars. The tall hedge to the left of the house is the maze.

  The hunt meets at Arlesford tomorrow morning and tonight several people are coming over for a pre-hunt dinner. I understand that most of them will be staying overnight and riding out with us in the morning; hopefully, I will get some time to talk to James during the evening because, even with his injured leg, I know he will be a much better rider and will undoubtedly leave me behind during the hunt.

  Sunday Morning

  Lucy I am writing this entry before I go to bed. The party has just broken up after one of the most exciting evenings of my life. I hope that once I have written everything down I will be calm enough to sleep, but I am inclined to believe otherwise. As I sit here writing I can hear the General standing on the terrace shouting at some of the more recalcitrant members of the house pack who are refusing to leave the lake. Although the old man’s words sound stern and uncompromising, I can tell that he is on the verge of great laughter. It has been one of those nights.

  I was seated at dinner by a rather pleasant old clergyman who, having spent his working life in India, has retired to England and our healthier climate. I gather he knows James’ father who is serving in India and it is this connection that led to the reverend being given an empty house on the estate. He is a very fascinating conversationalist and kept my part of the table spellbound with his tales of native customs set against a backdrop of immense wealth and abject poverty.

  Listening to him you became aware that he had a deep love for India and its peoples and it had upset him to leave, especially after so many years. He confided to me that it was only his poor health that had led to his returning home. During his ministry, he had come into contact with many native diseases and eventually they had eroded even his iron hard constitution. He tells me that the British either love or hate India (there is very little middle ground) and many of those who fall in love with her stay for the rest of their lives.

  The dessert course had been served and our glasses charged when the General tapped loudly on his glass and, once silence had fallen, told the servants that he would ring when he wanted them. This was of itself unusual enough to rivet everyone’s attention on the old man as he began to speak.

  The General told the story of the hole in the maze starting from the moment when he was woken by a servant to be told of the outrage through to the maid’s tale. This latter became very funny when Richard repeated her words verbatim in a high, squeaky, falsetto voice and he had to pause on several occasions for laughter to die away. I expect that his memory is a great asset in his work but I doubt that he gives evidence in that manner.

  Once the story was finished one of the younger men asked if anyone was game for a moonlight treasure hunt. The General sighed theatrically and explained the coincidences that had led to the villager’s story. The young man was obviously somewhat disappointed and suggested that we all go and dig up the Swiftsure arbour just on the off chance that the villagers were correct.

  The General was adamant that no member of the party was going to dig up his maze but he offered an acceptable alternative entertainment, He pointed out that the moon was full and the sky was cloudless, a combination that allowed clandestine excavations without the need for lanterns. These favourable conditions would not repeat for another four weeks making it very likely that the villains would return to dig up the second arbour once they thought that the house was quiet.

  The young man expressed the opinion that anyone with any common sense would lie low for a month or two until all the excitement had died down. To my surprise, it was the elderly clergyman who contradicted him. Gold, he said, was such a lure and temptation to some minds that the thought of it could override all common sense. The perpetrators would be convinced that everyone would work out why they had dug the first hole and would be afraid that if they delayed someone would beat them to it. Believing their myth to be real they would also expect the General to move the treasure to a more secure hiding place. For those in the grip of treasure mania it would have to be tonight or not at all.

  The young man who had been looking rather downcast suddenly brightened and thumping his hand on the table rather enthusiastically blurted, ‘Gosh, now I see. You are going to let the peasants dig their hole and then nab them and the treasure.’

  This statement was met by a resounding silence broken only by a whispered, ‘Inbreeding, poor pup’ which sounded like it came from the hearth. I looked around quickly and saw James and the General smile at each other as if they had shared a secret joke. I would not have thought of either of them as a likely ventriloquist.

  Softly the General explained his plan. The maze has two entrances one of which is overlooked by the house while the other can be seen from the kennel block. We would behave normally for the rest of the evening
until just before we retired when the General would lead a group off to the old stables to see a new litter. A few of this group would remain in hiding watching the maze’s rear entrance while most of the party returned to the house and supposedly to bed.

  As soon as the house was quiet those of the party wishing to take part in the night’s entertainment were to come quietly down stairs and wait in the library, lit only by the remains of the fire. Richard was to remain in his room watching for a signal light from the old stable block while I volunteered to watch the entrance to the maze nearest to the house.

  When our expected guests arrived, the watcher who saw them would let them enter the maze and then after five minutes show a light briefly in their window. Once that signal was seen, the men would wait another three minutes then issue from the buildings and enter the maze through its two entrances. With both their escape routes blocked, the villains would soon be in our hands.

  It was about one thirty when Richard caught a sudden gleam of light from the bell turret on the old stables. As he went past my door on his way to warn the party he was good enough to whisper that the prey had arrived. I counted softly under my breath I had just about reached the three-minute mark when the terrace doors opened and a surge of men and Spaniels spilled out of the house, down the steps and onto the lawn. At the same moment, there was a loud barking from the stables and I realised that someone, probably James, had let the breeding dogs out.

  As soon as the breeding pack sounded, the housedogs joined in and, barking happily, they surged past the men and into the maze. I was not surprised to see Snuffles in the vanguard but I was shocked, and slightly mortified, when I saw my own small puppy following him.