A Hundred Thousand Dragons by Dolores Gordon-Smith Read Free Book Online

‘the men report there’ve been no sightseers, male or female. And you’ve been here since what time?’ he asked, turning back to the men.
    â€˜Since first light, sir,’ said one of the policemen. ‘We haven’t heard a peep from anyone.’
    Jack looked at the wreck. It had been, as he’d seen last night, a very substantial car. ‘It’s a Rolls-Royce,’ he said in surprise. ‘Look, Ashley, even all twisted up like this, the grill’s very distinctive and although the mascot’s damaged, it’s identifiable.’
    Ashley looked at the broken flying lady on what had been the bonnet. ‘A Rolls? Well, that shouldn’t be too hard to place. They’re not that common.’
    Dr Wilcott crouched down beside the car, looking at the body. ‘I can’t tell you if it’s a man or a woman yet,’ he said. ‘However . . .’ With a professional calm that Jack could only admire, he reached out and touched the corpse’s temple. ‘I thought as much,’ he said after a moment. ‘He – I’ll say ‘he’ for convenience – he’s got a nasty head injury.’ He rocked back on his heels. ‘He could have cracked himself on the dashboard, I suppose, but I can’t see anything that would cause the injury. It’s a pretty severe blow. I’ll be able to say for certain after the post-mortem, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was dead before the fire started.’
    Ashley glanced at Jack. ‘That would support your idea.’ He broke off as Mr Tarleton arrived. With considerable reluctance the photographer set up his camera and, under Ashley’s direction, got to work.
    Leaving him to it, Jack walked away from the car up the slope to Hammerholt. In the daylight it was easy to see how vital their efforts had been. The grass was blackened and scorch marks ran all the way up to the balcony above. Something grey caught his eye. It was the remains of a man’s hat, a grey homburg, which, although damaged by fire, looked as if it had been new. He showed it to Ashley, who examined it in satisfaction, turning it over in his hands.
    â€˜It’s a pity it’s burnt,’ said Ashley, looking inside the brim. ‘I can’t make out the maker’s name but we might be able to see what it is back at the station.’ He glanced round the glade. ‘I wonder if anything else was thrown out of the car?’
    They quartered the glade, but the hat was the only thing they found. Leaving Ashley by the car, Jack followed the path between the hawthorn bushes down to the river. He hoped he might find more footprints from the mysterious couple but, although there were plenty of footprints in the churned-up mud of the glade, they seemed to be all of firemen’s boots. On the opposite side of the river, the grass showed clear marks where the fire engine had come across the fields, and the little pebbly beach was deeply rutted by its wheels. Apart from that, there was no damage, and no footprints either. The sun-flecked water chattered over the stones, a blackbird sang and a wood pigeon cooed somewhere out of sight. It was a pleasant spot, with grassy banks sloping down to either side of the water. Jack found it a relief to see something that wasn’t scarred by fire.
    He turned back at the sound of his name. ‘Come and see what you make of this,’ called Ashley. He crouched down at the back of the car. ‘I’m trying to read the registration plate,’ he said. ‘The front plate’s a goner, of course, but the back one’s not too bad.’
    Jack sacrificed his handkerchief to wipe the plate. ‘I think it says A and that’s a P followed by 61 something but I can’t make out the next bit very clearly. There’s an eight, I think, but I can’t be sure.’ He looked up. ‘AP? That’s a Sussex plate, of course.’
    Ashley clicked