An Advancement of Learning

‘No,’ said Ellie. ‘Not since I arrived and that was a long time ago. Perhaps there’s a party.’

‘Roote?’ said Pascoe.

‘Franny Roote, the student president. A man of power.’

‘Oh. One of those.’

Ellie and Halfdane exchanged glances.

‘Better clap him in irons before he demonstrates against you,’ said Ellie.

Pascoe shrugged. He reckoned he’d just about compensated for being late.

‘I must be off,’ he said. ‘I’m looking for Miss Scotby and/or Miss Disney. Do you know where I’ll find them?’

‘Next block,’ said Halfdane cordially. ‘First left through the main door. There’s a Christian Union meeting. They’re having a drive. It’s Find-a-Faith week. I believe Walt does a nice line in turning water into Nescafé. It should be over just now. You’re not going to arrest one of them, are you?’

Halfdane spoke lightly, friendlily, his attitude conciliatory. Even Ellie looked interested. Pascoe toyed with the idea of telling them what had happened. Why not? Everyone would know soon enough.

But why should he have to use tid-bits of professional information to attract friendship? No one else did.

The door burst open and a small knot of students entered.

‘You’d better hurry,’ said Halfdane. ‘That’s half the congregation.’

‘Thanks,’ said Pascoe. ‘I’ll see you again. Sorry about being late.’

The Misses Scotby and Disney proved difficult to prise apart. He made the mistake of approaching Disney first, who claimed to be irretrievably committed to an important discussion with two students who looked desperate for escape. Scotby then came into view, so Pascoe quickly switched the attack. The senior tutor said yes, she would be pleased to spare the superintendent a few minutes of her time, upon which Disney cut herself off in the middle of a reminiscence of her last tour of the Holy Land and joined the party before they had gone three paces.

So Pascoe, poker-faced, ushered them in together; Dalziel to his credit took it in his stride. He came from behind the desk to greet them like a headmaster welcoming important mothers.

All rubbery smiles like the Michelin-tyre man, thought Pascoe.

But once they were all seated, he put on his bad-news face.

‘Now, Miss Scotby, and you too, Miss Disney, I would like to ask you one or two questions whose relevance may not at first be apparent to you.’

He’s been rehearsing, thought Pascoe.

‘I would be grateful if you would just answer the questions, painful though this may be, without requiring from me any further information to start with.’

That’s a bit tortuous, thought Pascoe. Get on with it!

‘Please go ahead, Superintendent,’ said Miss Scotby in her precise tones. Miss Disney said nothing.

‘The questions concern Miss Girling, your late principal. Now, I believe she died in Austria, some five years ago.’

‘Five years last Christmas,’ said Miss Scotby.

‘In a ski-ing accident?’ asked Dalziel.

‘Not exactly,’ said Miss Scotby.

‘Asshaschlange.’ The strange outburst came from Miss Disney. The wisp of lace had appeared again and she was having difficulty with her articulation.

‘Sorry?’ said Dalziel.

‘An avalanche,’ she snapped quite clearly. She essayed another sob, Miss Scotby opened her mouth as though to speak, the sob was contained and she went on. ‘Don’t you recall that dreadful avalanche near Osterwald which swept the hotel coach off the road and over the mountainside? She, Alison … Miss Girling … was in it.’

‘How dreadful,’ breathed Dalziel with a light in his eyes which belied the statement. ‘And her body, if you’ll forgive the expression, where …?’

‘They never found it,’ said Miss Scotby. ‘There were half a dozen who were not recovered. It was a terrible business.’

‘There was a service, Superintendent. On the mountainside. It was most moving,’ interrupted Miss Disney. ‘And quite in order. That was later, of course, much later.’

‘You were present?’

‘Of course.’ The Disney bosom swelled. ‘Where else should I be? I was dear Al’s oldest friend, after all.’

Miss Scotby said nothing but shifted her feet in a minutely, eloquent gesture.

‘If they never found Miss Girling’s body,’ said Pascoe, ‘and all the passengers were killed, how were they certain she was on the coach?’

Miss Disney glanced at him coldly but did not deign to answer a subordinate. Miss Scotby had no such qualms.

‘Remember it wasn’t just a coach, any coach. It belonged to the Gasthof where Miss Girling stayed every year. They were expecting her that night. She was probably a little delayed by the fog …’

‘Fog? Which fog?’ asked Dalziel.

‘Well, it was very foggy that December, I remember. There were lots of delays. I remember watching on my television and hoping the principal had got off all right. I’ve often thought that if it hadn’t been for the fog, the coach would probably have picked her up earlier. And she would not have travelled along the road at just that fateful time.’

‘I see. And the coach …?’

‘It was split in half, I believe, before being swept over the edge into a ravine. It was one of those terrible curving roads with a precipice on one side and a cliff-face on the other. The part of the coach with the luggage boot in it was recovered almost intact. Miss Girling’s luggage was there.’

She became silent. Pascoe felt that the memory gave her real pain.

Dalziel having got what he wanted was now keen to get rid of the women.

‘Thank you, ladies,’ he said, now a jovial innkeeper at closing-time. ‘You’ve been most helpful. I’ll keep you no longer.’

The suddenness of the onslaught had them both nearly through the door before Disney dug her heels in.

‘Superintendent! My outcry this morning (was it only this morning!) when those awful … remains were found. You cannot be taking it seriously! I was distraught. You are wasting your time. You …’

Words failed her, but Miss Scotby took up the burden.

‘Do you really believe it might have been Miss Girling, beneath her statue, I mean?’