Read Online The Sleeping Salesman Enquiry by Ann Purser - Free Book Online
Authors: Ann Purser
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out of the gates of what she and Roy privately called their prison.
“Right, and you are looking lovely as ever, my dearest.” Roy sat up straight as a ramrod in his trundle, and they set off across the Green in the direction of Hangman’s Lane.
Gus Halfhide lived in the end cottage of the Hangman’s Row terrace, and beyond were Barrington Woods, a favourite place for villagers to walk in summer. They were part of the estate belonging to Theo Roussel, the squire up at the Hall. He was very tough on trespassers, but as in many English villages, commoners’ rights were upheld from generation to generation.
Nobody now grazed their cattle on the Green, nor did most sportsmen shoot game in the woods without permission. There were still poachers from time to time, but David Budd, the gamekeeper, kept trespassing under reasonable control. He lived at the opposite end of the terrace with his wife and two small boys.
As Ivy and Roy approached, Rose Budd lifted her head from brushing slush away from her gate, and welcomed them with a cheery smile.
“How are you both? It is lovely now, and the forecast is good.”
“We are venturing out from incarceration,” said Roy with a smile. “We dread being snowbound, don’t we, Ivy?”
“Afraid the boys’ snowman is melting away rapidly,” Rose said. “He was quite something for a while. Are you visiting Mr. Halfhide? I believe he’s at home. We know everyone’s movements here in the Lane, I’m ashamed to say!”
Gus was indeed at home, hiding from his over-friendly neighbour, Miriam Blake. He peeped out of his window when he heard the doorbell, and was relieved to see Ivy and Roy.
“Nice to see you two! Come on in. You must need a rest after a long walk.”
“No thanks,” said Ivy. “We mean to go on into the woods for a bit. Just the path that’ll take the trundle. We thought you might like to join us. You and Whippy maybe?”
Gus sighed. He had been planning an afternoon in front of a football match on the telly.
Ivy sensed his reluctance, and said firmly that the fresh air would do him good, and his dog, too. “That Whippy doesn’t get nearly enough exercise for the breed,” she added. “She should be able to go like the wind, instead of strolling on a lead across the Green to the shop every day.”
“I give her lots of chasing after a ball on the playing fields,” Gus said defensively. “The vet gave her a clean bill of health at her last checkup. But yes,” he added, seeing Roy’s silent signal from behind Ivy, “you’re quite right. I’ll be two ticks, getting my coat. Don’t want you catching cold hanging about.”
• • •
“SO YOU ACTUALLY went out for a walk yesterday, like good King Wenceslas, when the snow lay all around, deep and crisp and even? I must say that was a little foolhardy, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, don’t you start, Gus,” said Ivy. “I don’t see what King Thingummy has to do with it. We were quite safe, and until Roy’s wheels began to slither about in the slush, we were perfectly all right. Then we turned back, but not before something really curious happened.”
“In Barrington? Nothing curious happens down here in Hangman’s Lane.”
“Must have done once, judging from its name,” said Roy. “They say the gibbet was up beyond the woods, at the crossroads. Deliberate, apparently, so that as many villains as possible got the warning.”
Whippy was straining at the leash, scenting rabbits in the woods, and they turned off along a flat path leading to a picnic spot. It was colder under the trees, and Ivy said they should turn around and retreat to Gus’s cottage for a cup of tea.
“Are you going to spin it out, Ivy, in time-honoured fashion, before you tell me what the curious thing was?”
“Yes,” said Ivy. “My feet are getting wet, and Roy’s nose is blue. Come on, let’s quicken up and get back.”
Gus’s cottage was warm. He had a small wood-burning stove in the sitting room hearth, and
“Right, and you are looking lovely as ever, my dearest.” Roy sat up straight as a ramrod in his trundle, and they set off across the Green in the direction of Hangman’s Lane.
Gus Halfhide lived in the end cottage of the Hangman’s Row terrace, and beyond were Barrington Woods, a favourite place for villagers to walk in summer. They were part of the estate belonging to Theo Roussel, the squire up at the Hall. He was very tough on trespassers, but as in many English villages, commoners’ rights were upheld from generation to generation.
Nobody now grazed their cattle on the Green, nor did most sportsmen shoot game in the woods without permission. There were still poachers from time to time, but David Budd, the gamekeeper, kept trespassing under reasonable control. He lived at the opposite end of the terrace with his wife and two small boys.
As Ivy and Roy approached, Rose Budd lifted her head from brushing slush away from her gate, and welcomed them with a cheery smile.
“How are you both? It is lovely now, and the forecast is good.”
“We are venturing out from incarceration,” said Roy with a smile. “We dread being snowbound, don’t we, Ivy?”
“Afraid the boys’ snowman is melting away rapidly,” Rose said. “He was quite something for a while. Are you visiting Mr. Halfhide? I believe he’s at home. We know everyone’s movements here in the Lane, I’m ashamed to say!”
Gus was indeed at home, hiding from his over-friendly neighbour, Miriam Blake. He peeped out of his window when he heard the doorbell, and was relieved to see Ivy and Roy.
“Nice to see you two! Come on in. You must need a rest after a long walk.”
“No thanks,” said Ivy. “We mean to go on into the woods for a bit. Just the path that’ll take the trundle. We thought you might like to join us. You and Whippy maybe?”
Gus sighed. He had been planning an afternoon in front of a football match on the telly.
Ivy sensed his reluctance, and said firmly that the fresh air would do him good, and his dog, too. “That Whippy doesn’t get nearly enough exercise for the breed,” she added. “She should be able to go like the wind, instead of strolling on a lead across the Green to the shop every day.”
“I give her lots of chasing after a ball on the playing fields,” Gus said defensively. “The vet gave her a clean bill of health at her last checkup. But yes,” he added, seeing Roy’s silent signal from behind Ivy, “you’re quite right. I’ll be two ticks, getting my coat. Don’t want you catching cold hanging about.”
• • •
“SO YOU ACTUALLY went out for a walk yesterday, like good King Wenceslas, when the snow lay all around, deep and crisp and even? I must say that was a little foolhardy, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, don’t you start, Gus,” said Ivy. “I don’t see what King Thingummy has to do with it. We were quite safe, and until Roy’s wheels began to slither about in the slush, we were perfectly all right. Then we turned back, but not before something really curious happened.”
“In Barrington? Nothing curious happens down here in Hangman’s Lane.”
“Must have done once, judging from its name,” said Roy. “They say the gibbet was up beyond the woods, at the crossroads. Deliberate, apparently, so that as many villains as possible got the warning.”
Whippy was straining at the leash, scenting rabbits in the woods, and they turned off along a flat path leading to a picnic spot. It was colder under the trees, and Ivy said they should turn around and retreat to Gus’s cottage for a cup of tea.
“Are you going to spin it out, Ivy, in time-honoured fashion, before you tell me what the curious thing was?”
“Yes,” said Ivy. “My feet are getting wet, and Roy’s nose is blue. Come on, let’s quicken up and get back.”
Gus’s cottage was warm. He had a small wood-burning stove in the sitting room hearth, and
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