this for you.”
“For us.”
“She wrote it somewhere else and brought it with her.”
“She may not have even made up her mind about whether to give it to us. She might have waited to decide until she met us.”
“Then the floor she mentions could be anywhere. Why not be more specific? It’s not much of a clue, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“I think she would have given us more information if it had occurred to her. It must have seemed quite obvious to her as she wrote it. She was in a hurry to write this before being discovered doing so and she was thinking about a place so familiar that it didn’t enter her mind that we wouldn’t know it, too.”
“But we’re not from here.”
“Exactly.”
“We don’t know this village.”
“So she didn’t just mean a place in the village, she meant the place where she was when she wrote this, the place where she’s most comfortable and at home, a place that needs no explanation for her.”
“Her home.”
“The rectory.”
“Mrs Price is hidden under the floor in the rectory.”
“It’s as good a theory as we’ve got.”
“Unless the note means nothing. It could be the ravings of a madwoman.”
“But if that’s the case, then we have no clues at all. So let’s assume it means something unless and until we discover that it doesn’t.”
“We don’t even know that this is meant to be Mrs Price. Or, if it is, where the other two are. Mr Price and the boy.”
“No.”
“And who is the man she mentions? ‘He means well.’”
“Yes. But she says ‘He means no harm.’ It could be Mr Price.”
“That doesn’t tell us where he is. This is a maddeningly imprecise note, Mr Day.”
“But I don’t think she means Mr Price. She was nervous, positively jumping out of her chair.”
“Well, three people have disappeared from her village.”
“She was standing next to her husband the entire time. She kept the note a secret from him.”
“Her husband.”
“The vicar. Mr Brothwood.”
“This is getting us nowhere.”
“Not entirely,” Day said. “We’ll want to examine that rectory. And we’ll want to do it without letting Mr Brothwood know that his wife gave us this note.”
“We don’t owe her anything.”
“No, we don’t. But we have no reason to make her life more difficult. She’s clearly already upset about all this. We’ll tread carefully.”
“Not so carefully that the little boy dies while we’re being polite to the vicar and his wife.”
Day sighed. “Of course not. Sometimes, Mr Hammersmith, your single-mindedness is just the slightest bit maddening.”
Hammersmith grinned and pulled another chunk of bread off the roll on his plate.
“Is it good?” Day said.
“Hmm?”
“The groaty dick.”
“Oh, I’m not sure. I didn’t notice right off, but it has a curious aftertaste. And I feel a bit dizzy.”
“It’s been a long day, and it’s colder here than it was in London.”
“True enough, but I’ve been drugged before, and this has the same feel about it.”
“Drugged? You’ve said nothing about being drugged as we’ve sat here discussing mysterious notes and rectories.”
“It may not be drugged. I’m only mentioning the possibility that there may be something in the groaty dick.”
“And if there is? Rose poisoned us?”
“I think perhaps someone did.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine. I had a bite or two, that’s all, but I recommend you eat only the bread.”
“I feel all right. I don’t think there’s anything in the beer.”
“Good. It was probably meant to disguise the taste of the drug. The bitterness.”
Day rummaged in his suitcase and brought out his Colt revolver. He checked the chamber and nodded.
“We’ll go downstairs and confront Rose,” he said.
“What if we don’t?”
“You mean, let him think he’s drugged us?”
“Just that.”
“He’ll know he’s failed when we continue to tramp about his village alive and well.”
“I
“For us.”
“She wrote it somewhere else and brought it with her.”
“She may not have even made up her mind about whether to give it to us. She might have waited to decide until she met us.”
“Then the floor she mentions could be anywhere. Why not be more specific? It’s not much of a clue, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“I think she would have given us more information if it had occurred to her. It must have seemed quite obvious to her as she wrote it. She was in a hurry to write this before being discovered doing so and she was thinking about a place so familiar that it didn’t enter her mind that we wouldn’t know it, too.”
“But we’re not from here.”
“Exactly.”
“We don’t know this village.”
“So she didn’t just mean a place in the village, she meant the place where she was when she wrote this, the place where she’s most comfortable and at home, a place that needs no explanation for her.”
“Her home.”
“The rectory.”
“Mrs Price is hidden under the floor in the rectory.”
“It’s as good a theory as we’ve got.”
“Unless the note means nothing. It could be the ravings of a madwoman.”
“But if that’s the case, then we have no clues at all. So let’s assume it means something unless and until we discover that it doesn’t.”
“We don’t even know that this is meant to be Mrs Price. Or, if it is, where the other two are. Mr Price and the boy.”
“No.”
“And who is the man she mentions? ‘He means well.’”
“Yes. But she says ‘He means no harm.’ It could be Mr Price.”
“That doesn’t tell us where he is. This is a maddeningly imprecise note, Mr Day.”
“But I don’t think she means Mr Price. She was nervous, positively jumping out of her chair.”
“Well, three people have disappeared from her village.”
“She was standing next to her husband the entire time. She kept the note a secret from him.”
“Her husband.”
“The vicar. Mr Brothwood.”
“This is getting us nowhere.”
“Not entirely,” Day said. “We’ll want to examine that rectory. And we’ll want to do it without letting Mr Brothwood know that his wife gave us this note.”
“We don’t owe her anything.”
“No, we don’t. But we have no reason to make her life more difficult. She’s clearly already upset about all this. We’ll tread carefully.”
“Not so carefully that the little boy dies while we’re being polite to the vicar and his wife.”
Day sighed. “Of course not. Sometimes, Mr Hammersmith, your single-mindedness is just the slightest bit maddening.”
Hammersmith grinned and pulled another chunk of bread off the roll on his plate.
“Is it good?” Day said.
“Hmm?”
“The groaty dick.”
“Oh, I’m not sure. I didn’t notice right off, but it has a curious aftertaste. And I feel a bit dizzy.”
“It’s been a long day, and it’s colder here than it was in London.”
“True enough, but I’ve been drugged before, and this has the same feel about it.”
“Drugged? You’ve said nothing about being drugged as we’ve sat here discussing mysterious notes and rectories.”
“It may not be drugged. I’m only mentioning the possibility that there may be something in the groaty dick.”
“And if there is? Rose poisoned us?”
“I think perhaps someone did.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine. I had a bite or two, that’s all, but I recommend you eat only the bread.”
“I feel all right. I don’t think there’s anything in the beer.”
“Good. It was probably meant to disguise the taste of the drug. The bitterness.”
Day rummaged in his suitcase and brought out his Colt revolver. He checked the chamber and nodded.
“We’ll go downstairs and confront Rose,” he said.
“What if we don’t?”
“You mean, let him think he’s drugged us?”
“Just that.”
“He’ll know he’s failed when we continue to tramp about his village alive and well.”
“I
Similar Books
