offer. The dog, which apparently had followed the conversation, got into the car as soon as Bob opened the door. Having been prevented from lying down on his feet, it then jumped up beside him, buried its nose in his coat and lay perfectly still.
‘Bob’s good with dogs,’ said Dorothy, turning her head. Roger, who was not good with dogs, accelerated rather viciously. The drive to the burnt-out car took twenty minutes.
‘This is where we got lost, I should say,’ he observed, as he brought the car to a standstill. ‘At least, I felt yesterday that we were on the right track until we reached this car. After that, I didn’t quite know. We walked on, and trusted to luck, and certainly were glad to see your house.’
‘We were glad to see
you
,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘And, speaking for myself, more glad to see you upon your second appearance. The fun of sitting at table long after the meal is over can wear thin.’
‘I can imagine it,’ said Roger. ‘By the way, what made Lady Catherine appeal to the police quite so promptly? I understood from George that Mr Lingfield has a habit of popping off to Central Africa when things don’t please him here.’
Mrs Bradley caught his eye in the inside driving mirror, for she was sitting in the back with Bob and the dog.
‘What makes you ask that about the police?’ she enquired. ‘As you’ve stopped the car, let’s get out, and then we can talk.’
‘Well,’ said Roger, when, except for Bob, they were all standing out on the common, ‘on the way home we had a strange experience. The first time we went, I mean. It seemed that the driver had some sort of seizure or hallucination or something, and swore he’d seen a headless corpse on the line. The guard and the fireman got down and searched, using lanterns, and then came along the train to ask for a doctor. There wasn’t a doctor on the train, as it happened, so, as I know a fair amount about accidents—I’m a prep. schoolmaster and take some jerks and games—I offered to give any help I could, and went along.
‘Well, of course, there wasn’t any corpse, and no sign of anything—blood, I mean, or anything like that—so we soothed the driver, and the train went on again, and that was all about it. It was rather a curious experience, all the same.’
‘Curious, indeed!’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘What was the engine driver’s name?’
‘MacIver.’
‘Ah! Of course, that might account for lots of things. May I ask what the time was when this happened?’
‘I don’t know exactly. Somewhere about a quarter past ten, I should think.’
‘Ah, yes. Too bad, of course.’
‘The driver wasn’t tight, if that’s what you mean,’ said Roger. ‘I said so to Dorothy at the time.’
‘Are you a judge of tightness, child?’
‘Well, near enough. I mean, I’ve been tight myself, and I’ve seen other blokes tight, and I’d take myoath the driver hadn’t had a drop. I even went so far as to smell his breath—at his own request, that was—and there’s no doubt about it.’
‘Interesting,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘Let us follow the nose of this hound, who appears to be remarkably restive, and see where his instinct leads us.’
‘To the nearest rabbit-hole, 1 expect,’ said Roger grinning. ‘I say! This does look a bit of a blasted heath!’
He led Mrs Bradley and Dorothy towards the burnt-out car which they had examined the day before.
The dog, calming down, cocked his tail and hung out his tongue. He sniffed round the car for a bit, found it boring, and set off very soon in pursuit of rabbits.
‘Bother the dog,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘It looks as though we shall need to do our own exploring. Let’s go as far as the church.’ But before they moved on Mrs Bradley glanced inside the car. Roger followed her example.
‘I’ve a better idea,’ said Roger. At this moment he caught sight of a policeman who was patiently and rather painfully searching among the gorse. ‘I’d like to have a word
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