she had something pretty delish for today.â
âThatâs fine. As soon as it can be managed then.â
The landlord disappeared and presently his wife, a rather sullen young woman, appeared, to lay a cloth on one of the glass-topped tables. She did not seem to enjoy her work.
âThereâs only sheepâs hearts,â she said.
âThank you,â Carolus smiled. âI like them very much.â
âItâs a good thing you do because thatâs all weâve got. Itâs no good laying a lot in at this time of year.â
âOf course not. Very kind of you.â
âYou can have some soup first if you want it,â she melted sufficiently to say.
âExcellent.â
âAnd thereâs a treacle-roll for afterwards.â She was brightening rapidly. âBut I donât expect you care for that.â
âI love it,â said Carolus truthfully and wondered what Mrs. Stick would say.
âLike some sprouts with your heart?â
âThank you.â
âThereâs a nice Stilton, too.â
âItâs a banquet,â Carolus told her.
âI knew thereâd be suffish,â put in the landlord. âCatering-wise the wifeâs terrif, really. Only she doesnât shout about it.â
âNo, and I donât call a twelve-by-twelve little dining-room the Tudor Hall and then have to ask people to eat in the Saloon. And I donât put up a notice saying lunch being served now, when thereâs not a soul in the house,â she retorted, her irritation returning with a rush.
As she went out, the landlord grinned at Carolus.
âThatâs the way they are,â he said. âBut I donât expect I have to tell you that. Woman-wise I bet youâre pretty expier.â
C HAPTER F IVE
I T WAS A COLD AND gloomy afternoon of low clouds and a threat of rain when Carolus left the Falstaff Hotel and took the road to Hallows End. He wanted to have a look round the village and the road to Monkâs Farm before meeting any of the people with whom he intended eventually to become acquainted.
The road was not wide and its many curves were not made easier to take by the high hedges which ran on each side of it. But he passed nothing except a small farm lorry, which obligingly pulled hard in and waved him past. Even so, it took some twelve minutes to cover the four miles.
The village, when he reached it, appeared to be a rather dreary collection of small houses with one or two larger ones hiding behind dense shrubs. It had an overgrown and neglected look and its streets were almost empty of pedestrians. There was a pub, the Ploughman, and a few shops, including a post office, general store, a butcherâs and a family grocerâs, all of which would have benefited from a coat of paint. No church was visible and if the Rectory was here, it was indistinguishable from other larger houses.
However, he decided not to spend time on enquiries at the moment but to take the road out to Monkâs Farm, the road beside which Duncan Humbyâs car had been found. He had to ask the way to this and stopped beside a gnomish little manhobbling along with a twisted stick, a de la Mare creature with sharp eyes under thick brows.
âMonkâs Farm?â the gnome said. âWhat you going there for?â Amused, Carolus told him he had business.
âOh,â said the gnome and stared at him without giving any information.
âCould youâ¦â
âYou going to see those Neasts?â
âYes,â said Carolus, without impatience.
âQueer lot,â said the little man and stared again.
âThe same road leads to the church, doesnât it?â
âChurch is beyond the farm. I donât know whether youâll find those Neasts about up there. Police have been to see them.â
âI can try,â said Carolus, âif youâll tell me â¦â
âTheyâve just lost one of their
Marion Chesney, M.C. Beaton