‘I understand that he’s lived all his life in the village, and that his father and grandfather were carpenters before him. His great-great-grandfather probably helped to build Trenchard House.’
Dr Sampson was searching among the mass of papers on his desk. He said, ‘There’s one report here. It’s the final report from Aldermaston. I don’t know if you’ve read it, or if you have read it, whether you understood what they were getting at. What they’re saying is that there is no evidence, from the boy’s clothing or body, that any sexual act took place at all.’
Manifold stared at him.
He said, ‘I thought all sadists–’
There’s no such thing as a typical sadist. Get that idea out of your head. Sadism’s a natural instinct. All young children are sadists.’
‘All boys, you mean.’
‘All children. I have two angelic little daughters. At least that’s the way I thought about them until I found them one day. They’d tied up another little girl and were having great fun stinging her with nettles. No. It’s something we’re lumbered with. It could all be part of nature’s plan to keep the human race going, because as soon as we reach puberty in most cases sadism gets sublimated into sex.’
‘But not in all cases?’
‘In a few cases it gets mixed up with baser instincts. The power complex, for instance. When a tycoon sacks a couple of secretaries just to make the rest of the staff crawl, he’s only a grown-up little boy pulling the wings off flies. Or it can get muddled up with patriotism. The Japanese prison guards and Gestapo torturers, our own commandos cutting sentries’ throats. They all did it for their country. And look what happens when sadism gets sublimated by religion. That’s what bred the Inquisition and the black-cowled monks chanting the Te Deum whilst they watched the victims of the auto-da-fé screaming at the stake.’
Dr Sampson was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘But I’m not sure, on balance, that the most dangerous of the lot isn’t what Kunzler, with a singularly unfortunate choice of words, calls the “pure sadist”. He devotes a whole chapter to them in his book, The Causes of Perversion. You ought to read it some time.’
‘Why do you say, particularly dangerous?’
‘Because, for ninety-nine per cent of the time, the pure sadist acts perfectly normally. It’s only on the hundredth occasion that they feel this itch. They feel it more strongly than any sex or drink or drug addict. It’s an itch which has to be satisfied, by performing an act of cruelty, or watching someone else perform one. There are clubs in Soho which cater for them.’
Manifold said, ‘And there’s no way of telling–’
‘By their appearance? The ones I’ve met have looked as normal as you and me. There was a clergyman in our village when I was young. He preached the gospel of forgiveness every Sunday and disciplined his rather timid wife with a dog whip. I’m happy to remember that when the villagers found out they broke all his windows and used his whip on him. Some years ago I remember I had to give evidence in the case of a motherly old body who took in foster children. Her amusement was branding her small charges with red hot wire. When the police found out about it and asked why none of them had complained they said she had warned them that if they told tales she would cut their tongues out with her scissors.’
Manifold repressed a shudder and said, ‘How does anyone ever know, until it’s too late?’
‘You have to spot the little red devil when he peeps out just for a split second. It isn’t easy. But there’s one thing you can be fairly certain about. In their rational moments they’ll be feeling guilty about their addiction. Give you an example. Suppose you were a compulsive shop-lifter. You know it’s wrong and you know it’s stupid but when you see the stuff lying there your hand goes out and you pop it into your pocket. There are people like that. They’re not professional thieves. Very often they are quite well off and in all other respects honest people. Now if they happened to be present when the conversation turned to shop-lifting they’d be almost certain to give themselves away. Either they’d fight shy of the topic, or they’d talk a lot too much. They couldn’t behave naturally. The red devil wouldn’t let them.’
‘Interesting you should say that,’ said Manifold. ‘I do remember one discussion we had about corporal punishment. It was when Ware beat up one of the boys for being impertinent to Elizabeth–’
‘Tell me about that.’
When Manifold had told him, Dr Sampson said, ‘I’d like you to remember every word of that conversation.’
‘I can’t do that. But I can give you the gist of it. The Commander gave us the traditional guff. In his day, I gather, sub-lieutenants used regularly to beat snotties. Did ’em no harm. Turned them into damned good naval officers. Latrobe then blew his top. He took the line that whilst it might not harm the victim, it could turn the beater into a sadist.’
‘Did he actually use the word sadist?’
‘No. I don’t think so. The Commander then accused him of being a trick-cyclist.’
‘And the others?’
‘Ware didn’t say much. I think he made some crack about students. And Diplock turned the whole thing into a joke. I forget exactly how. I think it was about the staff biscuits.’
‘And that’s all you can remember?’
‘It was only a casual conversation.’
‘On a job like that you ought to carry a tape recorder.’ said Dr Sampson sourly. ‘Well, there’s plenty to do. You’ll be pursuing the obvious lines, I take it.’
‘What particular lines,’ said Manifold cautiously, ‘did you have in mind?’
‘For God’s sake, you don’t expect me to teach you police work, do you? The obvious lines. Get hold of someone who was a midshipman when Gaze was a sub-lieutenant. Find one or two boys who had just arrived at Chelborough when Ware was head of his house.’
‘How do we know he was head of his house?’
‘If he was as good as that at games he must have been. Get their opinion of him. Have enquiries made at Farnham, Kirkmichael and Broadstairs to see if there were any suspicious incidents in or near those places when Diplock was teaching there. And I don’t only mean boys. Sadists often practise their abominations on animals. Cattle-slashing, horse-maiming, cutting up dogs and cats. And last but not least, give those photographs to the top vice squad man at the Yard. I think it’s Chief Inspector Taylor. He’s their expert on Soho. Get him round the clubs which cater for sadism.’
Manifold, who had been scribbling hard, said, ‘Anything else?’
‘Yes,’ said Dr Sampson seriously. ‘Get a move on. He’s got to be stopped before he does it again.’
17
It was far from clear how the news had leaked out. Jared Sacher had said nothing. And yet, by the Friday of that week, every boy in the school, from McMurtrie at the top to Holbrow Three who was really too young to be at school at all and was only there because his two brothers were there already, knew for a fact that Manifold was a policeman.
This was the cumulative result of a number of impressions rather than any actual leakage of information. It started with a report, disbelieved at first, that on the night of the attempted kidnapping Mr Manifold and Sergeant Baker had been observed, from an upper dormitory window, coming back together from the direction of the main gate. They were said to have been coming back furtively. The reporter of this was the Pakistani boy, Palel Major, who had been responsible for the visit of the fumigation department at half-term. He was not popular, and anything he said was discounted.
In spite of this, the rumour grew in strength. Boys in a closed community become very sensitive to the nuances of personal relationships. They had already noted the way in which Manifold spoke to his colleagues and to the Headmaster. They now took note of the way the Headmaster spoke to him.
The rumour hardened steadily, and by the end of the week had become accepted truth which no denial would shake.
In practice it made very little difference. It was assumed that he was there to watch
over Jared Sacher, and would remain on guard for the rest of the term. They had already accepted the fact that he could not be fooled with. The news of the summary way in which he had dealt with One-B had dispelled any doubts on this score. The fact that he was now armed also with the panoply of the law only added a touch of glamour to a reputation which was already established.
If Manifold was aware of this change of status he gave no sign of it, and no boy was bold enough to question him. He did, however, have two unexpected conversations, both of them on the Friday following the cricket match.
The first occurred as he was coming back from the village after lunch. Halfway down the drive, set back among the shrubs on the left-hand side, was a small octagonal building. It was the same age as the house and was built of the same brick. The boys, who made up stories about everything, had decided that it was a sentry box, placed there by the nabob, to guard himself against the enemies from India who would be after his blood.
The voice of Lucy Fairfax hailed him from the dark interior. ‘Stick ’em up, Copper. You’re covered.’
Manifold swung off the drive, crossed the rough grass, and stood in the doorway. Lucy was sitting on one of the stone seats which ran round the inside of the building. She had been absent from lunch, and Manifold realized that she had had rather more than her customary two glasses of pre-lunch sherry.
‘Take the weight off your feet,’ she said. ‘Why are policemen supposed to have large feet? You’ve got rather nice feet.’
Manifold came in and sat down beside her. His bulk had been blocking the narrow doorway. When he moved he let in a shaft of sunlight and he was able to see her face. The expression on it disturbed him.
‘You remember that little talk we had,’ she said. ‘Soon after you came. I told you you weren’t a school master, didn’t I? And I was right, wasn’t I?’
She put one hand on his arm, but Manifold had the impression that it was more a move to anchor him to her side than a gesture of affection.
He said, ‘It seems to be fairly common knowledge now that I’m here to help Sergeant Baker look after Jared.’
‘It may be common knowledge, Ken. But I’m not one of the common people. Inspector? Chief Inspector? Superintendent?’
‘Detective Chief Inspector is the correct title. But Ken will do for the moment.’
‘All right, Ken. I’ll confess to you. I know exactly why you’re here. You’re looking for a man. A man who assaults little boys. And Ken, I can help you catch him. Because I can tell you something. Something you’d never guess, not if you tried for a hundred years.’ The grip tightened until he could feel her long fingers digging into the muscles of his arm.
He said, ‘All right, I’ll buy it.’
‘It isn’t a him, Ken. It’s a her.’
‘You’re talking about Elizabeth, I suppose.’
‘Of course. When I heard about the man being supposed to dress up as a woman – I couldn’t help laughing – think of old Dip in a wig and falsies. He’d look like a pantomime dame.’
She realized that she had lost her audience. Manifold had jerked free of her, and was standing up. He said savagely, ‘I suppose your husband couldn’t keep his mouth shut. How many more people have you talked to about this?’
‘It wasn’t my husband who told me. He never tells me anything. And I haven’t said anything to anyone.’
‘If he didn’t tell you, who did?’
‘I heard it. From our bedroom. I can hear everything that’s said and done in that study.’
Manifold said, ‘I see.’ Something of the coldness in his voice got through to Lucy’s alcohol-inflated mind. She said, ‘I promise you Ken, I haven’t said a word.’
‘When you heard me talking to your husband about this, I gather you thought it was funny.’
‘Not funny, really. Just the thought of someone dressing up as a woman. When it really was a woman all along.’
‘Have you got any reason to suppose it was Elizabeth?’
‘But of course I have. Can’t you see, Ken? She’s just the sort of person who would. She was a nurse. You knew that.’
‘Yes.’
‘In a mental hospital. You know the sort of things that go on there. You read about them in the papers.’
‘Go on.’
‘And she’s strong. Much stronger than you’d think. Nurses in those places are trained in dealing with patients. She’d have no difficulty with a boy.’
‘And that’s the whole of your reason for making an accusation.’
‘No. That isn’t all. It’s difficult to explain, Ken. But she’s hard. Perhaps it’s easier for a woman to see than a man. It’s an inner hardness. It doesn’t give itself away, but you can feel that it’s there, all the time.’
Her voice died away into silence. Lucy gave a sudden shudder. She said, ‘It’s cold in here. I don’t know why I came. I’m going back.’
Manifold was blocking the doorway again. He made no move to let her past. He said, ‘Since you know so much, I’m going to tell you a little more. And I’m going to give you a warning. It’s not a woman who has been doing these things. It’s definitely a man. He’s been seen, by at least four people. Not close enough, or for long enough, to be recognized. But no question that he’s a man. And he’s on his own. If there had been a second person at the scene of the crime, the signs would have been picked up. That information is confidential. You understand me?’
Lucy said, in a very small voice, ‘Yes.’
‘We’re dealing with a man who has got to be caught. The net’s closing in on him. It may be a matter of days. It may be only hours. But if he was warned, if he knew what we were up to, he might still slip out or destroy the vital evidence. If I had any reason to suppose that you had repeated what you managed to overhear, or what I’ve just told you, I’d have you taken down to the police station, and held there.’
Lucy said, her face white, ‘You couldn’t do that.’
‘I most certainly could. You’d be assisting the police with their enquiries.’
‘It’d be against the law.’
‘In this particular case,’ said Manifold calmly, ‘I don’t give a bent nickel if I have to break every rule in the book. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes,’ said Lucy faintly.
‘That’s the entrance to the Duke’s palace,’ said Mr Bishop. ‘And though I shouldn’t say it, I think it’s rather smart.’
‘It’s lovely,’ said McMurtrie.
‘Very ducal,’ agreed Jared.
‘Are you sure it won’t blow over?’ said Billy Warlock. ‘Father was doing Shakespeare in the open air once, and Macbeth’s castle fell on his head. He had concussion for a week.’
‘If it’s wet or windy, we’ll be in here,’ said Mr Bishop. ‘If we’re outside, we’ll fix it to the balustrade. It’ll be all right.’
‘What are those other bits?’
‘That’s the back of the lady’s house. You’ll have a few bushes in tubs out in front, so you know you’re in the garden. Then you move them away, and bring those two side bits forward–’
‘Flats,’ said Roger Warlock firmly.
‘Is that what you call them? Mr Latrobe sketched them out for me.’
That Mr Bishop should have turned out to be a scenic artist as well as a carpenter was no surprise to them. They knew him to be a versatile man.
McMurtrie said, ‘I think they’re stupendous.’ As he said this he caught Mr Bishop’s eye, and jerked his head very slightly to the right, moving away to the far end of the gym. When they were out of earshot he said, ‘I was going to ask your right reverence if you’d do something for me. Jared and Joss and I were planning to celebrate the last night of our stay in this abode of learning by having a little celebration.’
‘A dormitory feast, eh?’
‘Something of the sort.’
‘Sausage rolls, doughnuts, ginger pop?’
McMurtrie shuddered. He said, ‘You’ve been reading too many comics. That sort of t
hing went out with Billy Bunter. I meant a real celebration.’
‘And had you anything particular in mind?’
‘Actually what we wanted was a few bottles of bitter lemon and half a bottle of vodka.’
Mr Bishop half opened his mouth, and then shut it again. He said, ‘I could get it. But I’m not going to bring it up to the school. It’s all very well for you. If you got caught, you’d just get walloped. If I got caught, I’d lose this job, and I’ve been doing it too long to want to do that.’
‘Of course I’ll come and fetch it. We don’t want you to take any risks at all. And if it’s found, I’ll say I brought it back when I went out with my father, after the cricket match.’
‘When do you want it by?’
‘I’ll come down on Monday, as soon as it gets dark. That’s TEF’s night for bridge with the vicar. It’ll be quite safe the way I come. I’ll be out and back again in twenty minutes. No trouble at all.’
‘I hope not,’ said Mr Bishop. ‘I really do hope not.’
‘You can fool some of the people all the time,’ said Elizabeth, ‘and all the people some of the time, but you can’t fool me.’
‘That wasn’t what President Lincoln said.’
‘It’s what I’m saying, and I mean it.’
She was lying beside him stretched out along the edge of the swimming bath, one hand paddling in the water.
‘All right,’ said Manifold sleepily. ‘I can’t fool you.’ He had had a long lazy bathe and had dried off in the sun and was feeling more relaxed and happy. The fact that Elizabeth had come and laid herself down beside him increased his happiness. She really was a beauty. What had a dumb athlete like Ware, a piece of totally brainless cheese-cake, done to deserve her?
‘You’re a policeman, aren’t you?’
Manifold turned his head to look at her. It was the proportion of leg to body that took a girl out of the merely attractive class and made her seductive. Also something to do with the way the legs joined the body. Breasts were important, but irrelevant. It was the curve of the hips and the buttocks and that fascinating little hillock –
Night of the Twelfth Page 16