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

on for dusk. It was one of those hats with flaps that tie under your chin.’
    â€˜What, a sort of Sherlock Holmes affair, you mean?’ asked Jack. ‘A deerstalker?’
    â€˜If that’s what they’re called, yes.’
    â€˜Can you tell me anything else about the man in the car?’ said Ashley.
    Constable Marsh brightened. ‘Oh yes, sir. He was a gentleman, if you know what I mean, and had a very pleasant way with him. I don’t know about him being a thief. We had a bit of a joke together and I can’t see a thief doing that.’
    â€˜What did you joke about?’ asked Jack.
    The constable smiled. ‘He had a sort of rug or big tent rolled up on the back seat and I said it was a bit cold for camping. He laughed and said you wouldn’t find him trying it at this time of year, so I reckon it must have been a rug, after all.’
    Jack’s eyes slid to the blackened body in the car. ‘Was the rug large enough to cover a man?’
    Ashley drew his breath in sharply. ‘Well? Was it?’
    Constable Marsh looked bewildered. ‘But why should a man cover himself up with a rug, sir? If he had done, he must have been completely inside it. I couldn’t see him. Why should anyone do such a thing, sir? It’d be all dusty and very uncomfortable. It doesn’t make any sense.’
    â€˜Just answer me, will you?’ said Ashley patiently.
    Constable Marsh sucked in his cheeks in an effort of memory.
    â€˜Well?’ prompted Ashley impatiently. ‘Was it large enough to cover a man?’
    â€˜It might have been, I suppose, sir.’
    Ashley glanced at Jack. ‘Well done,’ he murmured. He looked at Marsh once more. ‘Describe the man driving the car, will you? What did he look like?’
    Constable Marsh ran his finger under the strap of his helmet. ‘I don’t really know, sir. I couldn’t tell you his height or colour of his eyes or anything like that. I wasn’t looking at him with a view to describing afterwards, you see. All I can really tell you was that he had a big brown beard. A great bushy thing, it was.’
    Jack’s stomach twisted. ‘A beard?’ he repeated.
    â€˜What is it, Haldean?’ asked Ashley.
    â€˜It’s . . .’ He stopped, then looked up and met Ashley’s eyes. ‘When I met Vaughan, he was in Claridge’s,’ he said hesitantly. ‘It was last Tuesday. He was with a man called Craig. Durant Craig, the explorer. You might have heard of him. Anyway, he’s got a very bushy beard. I wondered if it was the same man.’
    â€˜It could be, I suppose,’ said Ashley.
    And so it could; but there might be another explanation, as well, Jack thought, with a sudden lifting of his spirits. He didn’t want it to be Craig in the car. He didn’t want to have anything to do with Craig ever again. The last time he had seen Vaughan, Vaughan had been dressed up as Rasputin with a very realistic beard. Come to that, Mark Stuckley had been wearing a beard and so had a good few other people at the party last night. Jack looked at Constable Marsh. ‘How well do you know Mr Vaughan? Would you recognize him if he was wearing a false beard, say?’
    â€˜Wearing a beard?’ Constable Marsh grinned broadly. ‘What, dressed up, you mean? Why should Mr Vaughan do that, sir?’
    â€˜He had a beard at the fancy-dress party last night,’ Jack explained.
    Ashley nodded in understanding and waited for Marsh’s answer. ‘Well?’
    â€˜Well, I couldn’t say, sir,’ said Marsh. ‘I’ve never seen Mr Vaughan wearing a beard. I don’t know what he’d look like.’
    â€˜Would you recognize his voice?’ asked Ashley.
    Constable Marsh shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know as I would. He speaks like a gentleman and, as I say, this man did too, but it never occurred to me it might be Mr