All Fall Down

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Cripes,” Ellis mumbled, as he methodically chewed an excellent piece of roast beef. “What an agonising thing it is to be young.”

Gilkison looked up enquiringly.

“That poor child. You should have seen her, Gilk. I just longed to take her and hug her, and say ‘there, there’ to her.”

“She’d have been mightily offended if you had.”

“Then and there, yes. At another place and time, no. Poor pet! She was all raw, all nerves, trusting me one minute, spitting at me the next. If she had to face an ordinary jury, I’d be scared for her. She’s quite capable of doing a fury at them, or else sulking and refusing to answer.”

“What will happen, if she does?”

“Here? They’ll just say how overwrought she is, and shoo her out of the box as quick as they can.”

“You seem to have a poor opinion of the local sense of justice.”

“Not a bit. They don’t see it the same way, that’s all. They take a local, pragmatic view.”

“What’ll you do if they find it was an accident?”

“Nothing. Just plug along, quietly.”

“Doesn’t a verdict like that close the case?”

“Unless further evidence come to light. If we choose to accept it, we can regard the case as closed.”

“Bradstreet will want to.”

“He’ll want to, all right. But he’s a conscientious chap, is the Bradder. I don’t know——” Ellis frowned.

“What?”

“Nothing. We’ll see what we’ll see.”

“You haven’t told me yet what you went to church for,” Gilkison said, after a pause.

“My dear Gilk. What does anyone go to church for?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re a bloody ignorant heathen, that’s what you are.”

“I asked, what did you go for?”

“To worship. And I felt much the better of it.”

“You know, Ellis, at times I find you positively nauseating. How you can have the hypocrisy to pretend you went to that place for anything but your own purposes——?”

“It’s not a matter which I am prepared to discuss with you. As I say, you’re ignorant, and a heathen. What are you doing this afternoon?”

“Going on with my job. What about you?”

“I shall take a nice deck chair out into the garden. I shall read for a short while, and then I shall sleep.”

“You needn’t look so fatly smug about it.”

“I don’t know how to look thinly smug.”

The waitress came up to Ellis.

“If you please, sir, you’re wanted on the telephone.”

Ellis wiped his mouth, and went off, still clutching the napkin.

“Yes? Oh—hallo, Bradder. Any news?”

“Nelder’s in Devonport.”

“Good. When do we go to see him?”

“I thought we might go along to-morrow, after the inquest. The trains run convenient. We could be back by dinner time.”

“After the inquest?”

“We can’t go before.”

“You don’t regard him as a material witness, then?”

“We have no evidence that would directly connect him with the business, have we?”

Ellis made a curious face at the wall.

“What are we having this inquest for, Bradder?”

There was a short pause at the other end: then, “It’s the procedure laid down by law,” Bradstreet replied.

“I know, duck: but why?”

“To ascertain the cause of death,” the voice said, rather woodenly.

“Will it?” Ellis asked, and hung up before Bradstreet could answer.

He was whistling between his teeth when he came back to the table.

“Shall I have coffee?” he asked. “Or will it keep me awake? Ill risk it. Yes, please, Gladys. That was the Bradder to say that Nelder’s been run to earth in Devonport. He proposes we should go and see him to-morrow, after the inquest.”

“I shall be much interested to hear what he was doing here.”

“Good God. You’re as bad as the Bradder. Haven’t you any sense, man? After the inquest. AFTER the inquest. What the hell will there be to see him about after the inquest! Except the academic query you have just uttered. Oh, go and catalogue Matt’s books. It’s all you’re fit for.”

“I suppose,” Gilkison said, getting up, “it gives you some obscure pleasure to be offensive.”

“Nothing obscure about my pleasure. Plain for all to see.”

Gilkison left him. Ellis finished his coffee, waddled off to get a book, and, talking happily to himself, fetched out a chair and a cushion and took them to the part of the garden he had selected. He set up the chair, put the cushion where he wanted it, and settled himself down with grunts of extravagant pleasure. He read for a while, emitting every now and then a loud yelp of laughter. Then he shut the book, clasped his hands over his stomach, and slept.

He was wakened by Gilkison pulling at his sleeve.

“Ellis. Wake up. It’s most important.”

Ellis blinked, looked at the sun, then, quickly, at his watch.

“So it is! You’re right. Lord—teatime, and I might have missed it.” He jumped up. “Shall we have it here, or inside?”

“Listen. The books—some of them are missing.”

Ellis stood still.

“Some of the first editions have gone,” Gilkison went on breathlessly, “and seconds or inferior copies have been substituted. Of Human Bondage, Death and Splendour, Lakewater—the one with the cancelled advertisement—is gone, and an ordinary first put in its place. Far From the Madding Crowd——”

“It doesn’t matter which ones,” Ellis said. He stood, staring at the hedge. “Damn you, Gilk. I’ve been waiting for this, or something like it.”

“You mean to say you expected it?”

“I was afraid. Many gone?”

“I was beginning to tell you, when you stopped me,” Gilkison took out his notebook. “I’ve found nine, so far. Very likely there will be more.”

“Where were they? In the front room?”

“Yes.”

“All in the same shelf?”

“No.”

“Any idea where the substitutes came from? Never mind. We can go into that later.”

“From the same shelves. The books are in double rows: the inferior copies were at the back. When Matt had duplicates, he often did that.”

“Often? Not always?”

“I can’t say. I don’t know enough. After all, I have had very little opportunity to examine the library as a whole.”

“All right, don’t get narked. No one’s impugning your professional skill. Damn! damn! damn!”

“What’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter? When you come running here to tell me that?”

“I can’t see why you seem so put out about it personally.”

“My good Gilk—don’t you see what it means? We know now why Matt had to be killed on Friday. Before you and he could find out the loss.”

Gilkison opened his eyes and uttered a prim, almost soundless whistle.

“Yes,” Ellis said. “The one strong point in the Baildons’ favour is gone. You see now why I asked you where the substitute books came from.”

“I don’t.”

“If they were in the same room, anyone who’d been in there might know about them. If they came from somewhere else——”

“Ellis.” Gilkison stopped dead, a look of real distress on his face.

“Yes. Goon. Tell me.”

“The second edition of one book—Lakewater. That didn’t come from the front room.”

“Sure?”

“I noticed it particularly, the last time I was here. It has a bookplate on the flyleaf—Coppin: Charles Coppin. I remember noticing the design.”

“What room did it come from?”

“It was in the room where I was sleeping. I had time to examine the books there.”

“Whose room?”

“Joan Baildon’s.”

Ellis sighed.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s have tea. Then I’ll get on to the Bradder, and tell him his inquest’s off.”

“Inquest off? But I thought you implied——”

“Nelder.”

“Nelder? You don’t think he took the books.”

“Oh, Gilk, Gilk! Who wrote to Nelder, if Matt didn’t? Who needed the money Matt wouldn’t hand out? Who was in for the worst sort of trouble, as soon as Matt discovered that the books were gone? Nelder’s evidence is vital. Even the locals can’t suggest holding the inquest until we’ve got what he has to say.”

“Ellis. This is appalling.”

“Just found that out, have you?”

“Do you really mean that those two——?”

“Don’t put it on to me. I don’t mean anything. I go by the facts, like the poor bloody policeman I am. It must have struck you what brought Nelder here.”

“I didn’t think of it. I must say, Ellis, I think you are going ahead rather faster than the facts warrant. What proof have you Matt didn’t get rid of the books and make the substitution himself? May he not have written to Nelder? He sold books before.”

“Gilkie! Gilkie! You’re as bad as the Bradder. Worse, in fact, for you haven’t the same excuse. You’re going right back on yourself. To start with, you were incredulous that Matt could have had dealings with anyone but you. Now, like the sentimentalist you are, you switch right across, and argue against your own professional status.”

“You dare to call me a sentimentalist! After saying you were afraid I’d find something like this, and damning me for finding it. No, but seriously, Ellis, I don’t see how you can prove that Matt wasn’t responsible.”

“That’s why Nelder’s evidence is vital, and the inquest must be adjourned till we can get it. Now—tea. Tea. And lots of it.”