Death of a Burrowing Mole

5

Attempts to Get Arbitration

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Do I go with you?’ asked Lilian, at the end of lunch at the Horse and Cart next day.

‘I think,’ replied Edward, pushing back his empty cup and saucer and wondering, as usual, why he ever drank what the hotel called coffee, ‘that perhaps one voice may be more effective than two, so I will go alone.’

‘I wonder whether Malpas also has the intention of visiting the manor house?’

‘Oh, now it has come to words between us, I have no doubt that Nicholas will persuade him to do so. That is why I am anxious to get my say in first.’

He and his wife went up to their room and he changed his clothes before going downstairs to the reception desk to ask for the best route by car to Holdy manor house.

The route was short, not more than seven miles, but pleasant. Hill folded into hill, one green, one wooded, another covered in bracken and heather, and the narrow road wound among them through the valleys until it reached wide-open iron gates whose stone gateposts were surmounted by flower-sculptured urns. There was a lodge just inside the gateway and Edward pulled up, but nobody came out, so he concluded that the lodge was untenanted and drove on.

A long lane, bordered by rhododendrons past their time of flowering, later passed beside deciduous woods, heavy, dark and still, for there was no wind and, but for the shade of the trees, the heat would have been that of a desert. Edward encountered the full glare of the sun again when, having come out on to a broad expanse of open parkland, he drove up to the mansion, pulled up and got out of the car.

A very large man wearing a green baize apron answered the door. Before Edward could speak he said, ‘Family ain’t at home. Servants be on board wages. There’s only me and the bailiff.’

‘It is the bailiff I wish to see. I have business with him. Will you take him my card?’

He was admitted to a handsome Georgian entrance hall from which a straight staircase with wrought-iron banisters led up to a broad landing supported on classical columns in the Corinthian style. The floor of the hall was of black and white large tiles, and the general impression was of spacious elegance.

The manservant disappeared along a corridor which opened off the right-hand side of the hall and Edward spent the ten minutes he was kept waiting in looking, without much pleasure or interest, at what appeared to be ancestral portraits on the walls.

The servant did not reappear, but from the corridor came a florid man with a petulant mouth and hooded eyes. Differently dressed, he might have sat for one of the portraits at which Edward had been looking. The likeness was explained, perhaps, when he spoke.

‘Mr Saltergate? I am Mr Mathew’s cousin. I am sorry to have kept you waiting, but I spent a moment of time in looking up your letters.’

‘My last one received no answer.’

‘I should have acknowledged it, of course, but I put off a reply in the hope that my cousin would have answered my own letter on the subject. I’m standing in for him while he is away. Do come along and take a glass of something, won’t you? Wrong time of day, I know, for alcohol, but perhaps something long and cool—?’

He led the way and they went into a white-painted room with a plain ceiling and a modernised fireplace. From the circular table in the centre of the room and the straight-backed but upholstered chairs against the wall, Edward took it that he was in the dining-room. There was no sideboard, but a small occasional table stood against the wall at one side of the fireplace. On the opposite side was the only armchair in the room. The owner’s cousin drew it forward, indicated to Edward that he should seat himself and then added, ‘Shan’t be a minute. Can’t rely on Wicklow to fix a decent drink. Now,’ he went on when, having returned with two tall glasses, he had pulled forward a chair for himself, ‘what can I do for you? My name is Sandgate, by the way. Sandgate and Saltergate, eh? We should get on well together. You health!’

‘I will come to the point,’ said Edward. ‘I wrote, some months ago, as you know, to ask permission to attempt some reconstruction work at Holdy Castle. I was granted that permission, but, now that I have begun work, I find that other parties have been granted equal facilities.’

‘But not, I understand, to carry out the same kind of work.’

‘That is a fair observation, but my difficulty is that I am now faced with a case of encroachment. May I explain?’ He took out a scribbling pad from the briefcase he had brought with him and made rapid sketches with a BB pencil, explaining as he went along. ‘Here is the keep – no problem there – and here is the hall next to it. We shall get them both cleared of rubble and, later on, we hope to repair the top of the keep sufficiently to render it safe. It is secure enough in itself, but the parapet is so much broken away as to leave only a few inches of walling at one place. We can collect enough broken stone to build it up.’

‘And you have my cousin’s permission to do this, I know. I have not visited the ruins myself. So what exactly is your problem?’

‘This,’ said Edward, sketching in his flanking-towers. ‘The other party has permission for an archaeological dig. It is being carried out scientifically and is based, I understand, on a survey previously made from the air as well as on another from the ground. Unfortunately, if Professor Veryan is permitted to carry out his ideas, this is what will happen.’ He traced out a broad circle which cut into the sketch-plan of the walls and towers. ‘You see what I mean.’

‘Yes, indeed. Most unfortunate, but what can I do about it? There are letters from Professor Veryan, too. He has equal rights with yourself. I don’t see anything for it, Mr Saltergate, but for the two of you to come to some amicable agreement between yourselves. My position here is merely that of a bailiff. I can’t alter decisions made and permissions given by the owner of the property.’

‘There must surely be a question of priorities. Didn’t my application arrive before that of Professor Verya.n?’

‘Even if it did, he has an established right to work on the site, just as you have. My cousin also filed a letter from someone who signs himself T. V. M. Hassocks and the filed copy of my cousin’s reply gives this person permission to attempt to locate the castle wells. What interest he can have in them I do not know, but there it is. My cousin seems to have strewn permissions all over the place.’

Profoundly dissatisfied, Edward drove back to the Horse and Cart to seek what consolation he could obtain from Lilian and he was even less pleased when, just beyond the manor house gates, he passed Veryan’s car with Tynant seated beside the owner-driver.

‘Professor Veryan?’ said Sandgate. ‘I am delighted to make your acquaintance. I have just had a visit from a Mr Saltergate, whom I believe you know.’

‘Yes, indeed. I thought he might have been here. I passed his car on the road. Not to beat about the bush, I have reason to think that my visit may not be unrelated to his.’

‘Come and sit down and let us talk things over. He left some sketch-plans with me.’

‘Of his flanking-towers, no doubt.’

‘His? I was under the impression that, if they belong to anybody, it is to my cousin, the owner of the Holdy estate.’

‘Of course, of course. I meant only to refer to the work he intends to carry out.’

‘And I meant only a rather clumsy pleasantry. Mr Saltergate was not very coherent. This is the sketch-plan he left with me. Perhaps you can explain it better than he did.’

‘Oh, well,’ said Veryan, taking a chair and picking up the sheet which Saltergate, at leaving, had torn off his scribbling pad, ‘it is simple enough and is what I hope to talk to you about.’

‘Before you begin, I had better repeat what my position is here. I am nothing more than a caretaker. Portia (if I remember my schoolmasters and their attempts to get me to read Shakespeare and, what was worse, to get some of him by heart) could not alter a decree established. I find myself in exactly the same circumstances. I have been through all the relevant correspondence very carefully and it seems to me that my cousin has granted you and Mr Saltergate equal rights. There is also another candidate in the field, someone called Hassocks.’

‘Oh, he can be ignored. He and his companion are undergraduates with a thesis to write. They are glad to learn from Saltergate and myself, and have put themselves at our disposal. They are charming boys and will be a great help when it comes to all that digging.’

‘Digging? Digging for what?’

‘Obviously Saltergate did not explain very clearly what our object is. We certainly are not digging for gold or diamonds, although young Hassocks may have some such idea. We are excavating a Bronze Age burial ground. Unfortunately the trench – here it is on Saltergate’s plan – is likely to touch (no more than touch) the foundations of one, or, at the most, two of the flanking-towers. This sketch he has left with you exaggerates the scope of my dig.’

‘He seemed greatly concerned.’

‘A bit of a dog in the manger, I am afraid. I cannot allow him to override me. I am engaged upon an important piece of archaeological research which I hope to record, along with other such projects, in a book which I have in preparation. I cannot allow my work to be truncated because of some fantastic objections on his part.’

‘I see the difficulty, yes, but I don’t see how I can help either of you. I will get in touch with my cousin, if you like, and find out whether he has anything to suggest. It does seem to me, though, that you are in a stronger position than Mr Saltergate is. You are in a position to undermine his work; he can hardly retaliate by damaging yours.’

‘Well, I don’t know so much,’ said Malpas, knitting his brows and then giving a rueful smile. ‘He has a determined wife and four feckless undergraduates on his side. I would trust Saltergate himself not to step outside the bounds of fair play and civilised behaviour, but I would hesitate to go bail for the others.’

‘Four undergraduates, Professor?’

‘Certainly. There are the two boys, Hassocks and Monkswood, and Saltergate has brought along two girls. There is also the woman lecturer from the girls’ college, but, of course, I am sure she would never join in any mischief.’

‘But what mischief could the others do?’

‘They could rough up my excavation and, in doing so, destroy all sorts of most valuable evidence.’

‘But you don’t believe Mr Saltergate would be a party to anything of that sort?’

‘No, I don’t, but he is in a very angry mood and I think this might inflame the others in his party, particularly his wife.’

‘Well, I can only suggest you keep an eye on them, Professor. Meanwhile I will get in touch with my cousin. Is it possible for me to come along at some time and see how the work is progressing?’

‘Oh, by all means. I shall be delighted to take you round and explain what we are doing.’

‘Well,’ said Veryan, joining Tynant in the car, ‘he says there is nothing he can do.’

‘What did you ask him to do? After all, to be perfectly fair, we are more of a menace to Saltergate’s towers and walls than ever he is to our excavation. Couldn’t we—’

‘No, we couldn’t. My work is all-important. His is mere play by comparison. If my trench impinges upon his walls, well, that is just too bad, but it cannot be helped, and I shall have to tell him so.’

‘What kind of fellow is this bailiff?’

‘He is a cousin of the owner and, I should guess, a poor relation at that. The servants are all on board wages except (he told me) one gamekeeper who has had to remain at work because of the young pheasants, and—’

‘I thought a big chap in a green baize apron let you in. That wasn’t this cousin, was it?’

‘No. That’s a manservant called Wicklow. The other reason I have for thinking that the cousin is a poor relation is not his clothes, threadbare though his jacket was. Half the population goes about looking like tramps and nobody thinks anything of it nowadays—’

‘I thought that was only the young. How old is this fellow?’

‘Forty, perhaps. Anyhow, what struck me most forcibly was that manservant’s attitude towards Sandgate.’

‘He needed a good setting-down and he did not get it? Obviously he has no respect for his master’s poor relation, which is what you take Sandgate to be.’

‘The man behaved to Sandgate as though he recognised no difference in their social standing.’

‘Perhaps he is resentful at being left on duty while the other servants are absent.’

‘I suppose that could be so. All the same, although Jack may be as good as his master and, in some cases, very much better, I am a stickler for the old values and I think that dependants should pay lip-service to their employer and not attempt to bridge the gap which custom and usage have placed between them. It is better and more convenient for both sides to have it so.’

‘But this Wicklow chap probably sees the two of them as fellow workers in the same vineyard.’

‘But even in a vineyard there are the supervisor and the supervised.’

‘I am sorry you went, as you obtained no satisfaction from the visit,’ said Lilian Saltergate, ‘and I am sorrier still that your car passed Malpas’s on the road back and so he knows you went. What kind of man is the bailiff?’

‘I did not care for him. I received the impression that he has some axe of his own to grind and that the rift between Malpas and myself fits in with his plans.’

‘It would be interesting to know whether Malpas got any more satisfaction from him than you did.’

‘Tynant was in the car with Malpas, but I don’t know whether he went into the house with him.’

‘Probably not. Malpas prefers to play a lone hand unless he is in need of help. Do you think there is anything between him and Susannah?’

‘Between Malpas and Susannah? I thought she and Tynant—’

‘I am not so sure. I have seen glances exchanged and a hand brushed against another hand.’

‘You scandal-mongering woman!’

‘It’s all very well to laugh, but Susannah is very lovely; very intelligent, too.’

‘And Veryan is a married man.’

‘Not any more. Oh, dear, my head-in-the-sand old ostrich, you are behind the times! They divorced each other ages ago. It was kept very quiet, but it happened.’

‘One sees their names as attending the same conferences. They are listed as Professor and Mrs Veryan.’

‘What of it? She goes as a delegate in her own right, the same as she always did. It only means that she hasn’t married again, that’s all. Is the Holdy estate a large one?’

‘I should think so, but probably not of very much value. There would not be rich grazing or prosperous large farms around here. The size of the estates in this part of the country was achieved because the local nobility and gentry intermarried and added one estate to another and, of course, in England the property is not divided up when the father dies. The younger sons often come off very badly.’

‘But this – what was his name?’

‘Sandgate. No, he is not a younger son. He is the owner’s cousin.’

‘Why didn’t you like him?’

‘Perhaps because his name is reminiscent (to him) of mine. He suggested that we ought to get on well together. Somehow I felt there was something behind the remark.’

‘ “As I came through Sandgate I heard a lassie sing”,’ said Lilian, turning to go up to change for dinner.

As she came from the bathroom into the bedroom, Edward said, ‘Even if I have to stand at my flanking-towers with a shotgun, Malpas is not going to touch them. His wretched dig could do irreparable damage and I won’t put up with that.’

‘Stop worrying yourself, and don’t envisage situations which will probably never arise. Do you think the Horse and Cart will improve on last night’s offering of stewed steak and dumplings, followed by rice pudding and very sour plums? I suppose in the depths of winter they serve cold chicken and salad, followed by an ice-cream sundae. This is a loathsome little inn.’

‘We could always move to the Barbican.’

‘And have you and Malpas throwing crusty rolls at one another? Anyway, I’ve made Malpas and Nicholas feed those two boys and get them an occasional bath. Nicholas is your best bet, you know. If anybody can restrain Malpas, he can.’

‘If the worst looks like coming to the worst…’ began Edward, but Lilian did not allow him to finish.

‘I will tell Nicholas that Malpas takes more than a fatherly interest in Susannah,’ she said, her plump, smooth face creasing suddenly into a smile, ‘then he will murder Malpas and all will be well.’

‘You shouldn’t make jokes about murder.’

‘Oh, oh! Who talked of guarding our walls with a shotgun?’

‘Malpas adopts an irritatingly superior attitude in comparing his work with mine. When he has satisfied himself with his Bronze Age burials, the ground will all be smoothed over again, as though nothing had ever happened to it, but my restoration of the castle defences will last a thousand years. Doesn’t that mean something?’

‘Nothing means anything to a fanatic except his own fanaticism.’

‘Perhaps that applies to me as well as to him, and he may learn that to his cost!’