Fell of Dark

‘No.’

‘Any special reason why you came this year?’

Again I was faced with a choice. Again I tried to sidestep it.

‘No, no special reason,’ I said.

If I kept everything as simple as possible perhaps we might rescue the afternoon from this nightmare.

‘Mrs Bentink did not mind, then?’

‘Mind what?’

‘Mind losing you for a week. Or a fortnight. What is it, by the way?’

‘A fortnight. Three weeks. Whatever we decide.’

‘Well, that’s very nice, I must say. You must be self-employed.’

‘Yes.’

‘What?’

‘I own a business.’

‘What kind?’

‘A firm which deals in stationery.’

‘Writing-pads and envelopes, you mean.’

‘Among other things.’

‘Where is Mrs Bentink?’

‘At home, I suppose.’

‘Suppose?’

‘Well, she might be away.’

‘On holiday?’

‘Yes.’

‘But no firm plans?’

‘No.’

‘Not like you.’

I was growing more and more exasperated and it was only my conviction that the meek and nervous Mr Melton was deliberately aiming at this that made me keep my temper.

‘Mrs Bentink is making her own plans this year. I have made my own plans. I would be carrying them out were it not for this business. Couldn’t we hurry it up, Superintendent? It’s getting near lunch time and this mountain air gives me a splendid appetite.’

He shifted his spectacles on his nose. He used them rather like a trombone player uses his slide, to get different tones. He now looked apologetic.

‘I’m very sorry, Mr Bentink. It is getting on, isn’t it? You mustn’t miss your lunch. We have quite a good canteen here. I’ll ring down and ask them to bring something up.’

I was genuinely surprised.

‘I’m sorry, but I don’t want to lunch here, thank you very much.’

‘You mean, you want to leave.’

‘Exactly.’

‘But I’m not finished yet, Mr Bentink. There’s a great deal more. Of course, I can’t stop you leaving. You must do as you think best. But I would much appreciate an opportunity of continuing our talk later on.’

I was nonplussed. The trouble with the police, I thought rather bitterly, is that they are right and we are wrong. Melton pressed his advantage.

‘I feel I should warn you that there’s quite a considerable crowd outside the station. Reporters, photographers, workers with nothing better to do in their lunch-break.’

‘So?’

‘So anyone coming out of this building is going to be subjected to a lot of questions and photographing. These reporters are persistent. At least a couple would follow you to wherever you went for lunch.’

‘Isn’t there a back way?’

‘Oh yes. But that’s reserved for people we’ve finished with.’

He smiled.

Always be a bad loser, my father had taught me, but let your badness be concealed.

I smiled back.

‘All right. You win. But if your canteen cooks like it makes coffee, I can do without it.’

He sat down, content it seemed to go on with the interrogation right away. But I had other plans.

‘I’ve got a packed lunch from the Boot Inn. It looked rather nice. I’ll settle for that, I think. It is in my knapsack.’

We had removed our knapsacks on entry into Armstrong’s car, and I had noticed Lazonby had carried them into the station with him.

‘I’ll have it sent up,’ said Melton, reaching for the phone.

‘Don’t bother. I feel like stretching my legs. I’ll go down.’