English Breakfast Marmalade thickly over a slice of toast.
‘Do you realise what time it is?’ he demanded when I appeared at the breakfast room door.
I said I did and apologised for disturbing him at this hour, but a serious matter had arisen.
‘Very well,’ he said with a deep sigh, leaning back in his chair and taking a bite from the toast. ‘Go on, dear boy, go on.’
‘Fowler has been found.’
‘Well, that’s good news!’
‘Or, rather, his dead body has been found.’
This announcement caused Dr Rogers to drop his slice of toast, sending a cascade of butter and marmalade down the front of his dressing gown.
While he wiped this away with a serviette and retrieved the toast from the floor, I explained, ‘Mr Lewis and I found Fowler’s body on the gravel road behind the school—in exactly the same spot where we had expected to find it yesterday, after what we saw on the roof . . .’
I trailed away because the Head was glaring at me, blinking furiously. ‘Dead?’ he said in a voice hushed by disbelief.
‘Cold and stiff. He’s been dead for some hours. Probably since Jack and I saw him die yesterday. Would you like me to make the phone call to the police, sir?’
Dr Rogers nodded, and then told me to use the phone in the hallway, just inside the front door.
As I walked to the hall and picked up the phone, he brushed past me, muttering about needing to get changed before the police arrived and ‘the whole horrible business begins’.
With one foot on the stairs he turned back and said, ‘The boys will have to be told, of course. Perhaps I shall get the Dean to make an announcement at chapel this morning. Yes, that would be best—he would be tactful.’
Dr Rogers mounted the stairs, and I heard a click on the phone as the operator at the village exchange came on the line. I asked for the police, and a moment later there was another click and then the sound of a phone ringing.
‘Police cottage—Butler speaking,’ growled the voice on the end of the line.
I knew that the local police cottage did not employ a butler, but rather that I was speaking to the village bobby, Constable Bernard Butler.
‘There’s been a death at the school’ was all I said.
‘What? A death? One of the boys?’ he asked.
‘One of the masters,’ I replied.
‘Right then, I’m on my way.’
As soon as he was off the line I rang the exchange again and asked for Dr Marcus Green. His wife answered the phone and handed it over her husband, saying, ‘It’s the school calling, dear.’
I explained that there had been a violent death and that he would be needed in his capacity as the local police surgeon. Like Constable Butler, the doctor promised to come at once.
As I was hanging up, Dr Adrian Rogers was coming back downstairs, clad now in his usual dark grey suit and academic gown.
I told him the police and the doctor were on their way, and then explained that I should get back to where Jack was standing guard over the body. He nodded and waved me away.
From the Head’s house I hurried next door to Dean Cowper’s. Warnie was up and breakfasting, so I began to tell him the news. Just as I started the Dean walked into the room, so I began my tale again from the beginning. Warnie gaped at me open mouthed while the Dean muttered seriously, ‘The news will have to be broken to the boys—very carefully, of course.’
‘I think the Head is rather hoping that you will do that,’ I said. Cowper nodded and said he would give some careful thought as to how it could best be expressed. Warnie and I then left him and hurried out to the gravel road behind the school.
We found Jack standing, deep in thought, over the corpse of Dave Fowler. Warnie was bubbling over with all the predictable questions.
Jack replied, ‘We don’t have the answers, old chap. All we have at the moment is a very strange puzzle.’
Warnie looked upwards at the stone balustrade that edged the roof of the Old School, and then muttered,
‘Do you realise what time it is?’ he demanded when I appeared at the breakfast room door.
I said I did and apologised for disturbing him at this hour, but a serious matter had arisen.
‘Very well,’ he said with a deep sigh, leaning back in his chair and taking a bite from the toast. ‘Go on, dear boy, go on.’
‘Fowler has been found.’
‘Well, that’s good news!’
‘Or, rather, his dead body has been found.’
This announcement caused Dr Rogers to drop his slice of toast, sending a cascade of butter and marmalade down the front of his dressing gown.
While he wiped this away with a serviette and retrieved the toast from the floor, I explained, ‘Mr Lewis and I found Fowler’s body on the gravel road behind the school—in exactly the same spot where we had expected to find it yesterday, after what we saw on the roof . . .’
I trailed away because the Head was glaring at me, blinking furiously. ‘Dead?’ he said in a voice hushed by disbelief.
‘Cold and stiff. He’s been dead for some hours. Probably since Jack and I saw him die yesterday. Would you like me to make the phone call to the police, sir?’
Dr Rogers nodded, and then told me to use the phone in the hallway, just inside the front door.
As I walked to the hall and picked up the phone, he brushed past me, muttering about needing to get changed before the police arrived and ‘the whole horrible business begins’.
With one foot on the stairs he turned back and said, ‘The boys will have to be told, of course. Perhaps I shall get the Dean to make an announcement at chapel this morning. Yes, that would be best—he would be tactful.’
Dr Rogers mounted the stairs, and I heard a click on the phone as the operator at the village exchange came on the line. I asked for the police, and a moment later there was another click and then the sound of a phone ringing.
‘Police cottage—Butler speaking,’ growled the voice on the end of the line.
I knew that the local police cottage did not employ a butler, but rather that I was speaking to the village bobby, Constable Bernard Butler.
‘There’s been a death at the school’ was all I said.
‘What? A death? One of the boys?’ he asked.
‘One of the masters,’ I replied.
‘Right then, I’m on my way.’
As soon as he was off the line I rang the exchange again and asked for Dr Marcus Green. His wife answered the phone and handed it over her husband, saying, ‘It’s the school calling, dear.’
I explained that there had been a violent death and that he would be needed in his capacity as the local police surgeon. Like Constable Butler, the doctor promised to come at once.
As I was hanging up, Dr Adrian Rogers was coming back downstairs, clad now in his usual dark grey suit and academic gown.
I told him the police and the doctor were on their way, and then explained that I should get back to where Jack was standing guard over the body. He nodded and waved me away.
From the Head’s house I hurried next door to Dean Cowper’s. Warnie was up and breakfasting, so I began to tell him the news. Just as I started the Dean walked into the room, so I began my tale again from the beginning. Warnie gaped at me open mouthed while the Dean muttered seriously, ‘The news will have to be broken to the boys—very carefully, of course.’
‘I think the Head is rather hoping that you will do that,’ I said. Cowper nodded and said he would give some careful thought as to how it could best be expressed. Warnie and I then left him and hurried out to the gravel road behind the school.
We found Jack standing, deep in thought, over the corpse of Dave Fowler. Warnie was bubbling over with all the predictable questions.
Jack replied, ‘We don’t have the answers, old chap. All we have at the moment is a very strange puzzle.’
Warnie looked upwards at the stone balustrade that edged the roof of the Old School, and then muttered,
Similar Books
