Hawke's Tor (20 page)

Once again the news he had just received overwhelmed Horace Morgan. He was no longer the arrogant, overbearing man whom Amos and Tom had met at Trelyn when they had paid their first visit there and was almost timid in his manner when he asked, ‘What happens to me now?'

‘You are free to go, Mr Morgan. When you have written your letter to your wife give it to Sergeant Dreadon at Trelyn for urgent delivery to me and I'll see that it goes to India in a diplomatic bag from London. In the meantime remain at Trelyn until my murder investigation is completed – but there is no need to say anything to anyone about your interview here.'

‘Thank you.'

Rising to his feet, Horace Morgan said, ‘I owe you a debt I can never repay, Superintendent. Had it not been for you I might never have learned that my wife and family survived the massacre at Cawnpore.'

‘I need no repayment, Mr Morgan, but if you think of anything that might help in my murder inquiry here, please let me know.'

Horace Morgan looked at Amos without speaking for a few minutes then, apparently making up his mind, he said, ‘You asked me whether Kerensa had ever suggested to me that I might not be the father of baby Albert, but I never told you
exactly
what it was she said to me. In fact, during one of our arguments she
did
claim someone else was his father. She even told me where he was conceived: in the empty gamekeeper's house by the fishponds on the Trelyn Estate, she said.'

Both policemen were immediately interested and Amos asked, ‘Who did she name … one of the gamekeepers?'

‘No. She said it was Colonel Trethewy.'

‘T
HERE IS NOTHING at all that can be done about it unless you can substantiate what Morgan told you, Amos.'

Amos was in the chief constable's office later that morning, having repeated to the police chief what Horace Morgan had told him.

‘Even if it
is
true, Colonel Trethewy has broken no law … I assume there is no suggestion that Mrs Morgan was not a consenting party?'

‘None at all, and even if there was the defence could call a whole army of men to give evidence of her promiscuity.'

‘That is what I thought. We will keep the information to ourselves for the time being, but it does add Colonel Trethewy to your list of suspects.'

‘It does, but although Morgan must remain on the list too, both Sergeant Churchyard and I are convinced he never received word that his Indian family survived the troubles they had there. If we are right it takes away the strongest motive he had for wanting to rid himself of his English wife.'

‘Is there a chance we could charge him with bigamy?'

Amos shook his head, ‘He genuinely believed he had lost his Indian wife and family and no jury listening to his story would ever convict him. Besides, it was in all probability a Hindu
wedding and I am not at all certain that would be considered as binding in this country. Even if it was, we would have an impossible task obtaining the necessary documents to prove our case. Quite frankly I think he has already suffered far more than any man should, his is a harrowing story.'

‘I will take your word for that, Amos – oh, by the way, will you pass on a “very well done” to Sergeant Churchyard for me? I have had a personal letter from the chief constable of Wiltshire asking me to thank Churchyard for the help given to his daughter when they met in Wiltshire. He says she is delighted with the girl Churchyard recommended to her. He also mentions in his letter that she is coming back this way to make some recommendations for a hospital to be built in Plymouth, so no doubt she will be visiting you and your wife.'

‘I hope so, she is a very pleasant woman who has been a great help to us.'

 

Confirmation of Verity's proposed visit was not long in coming. There was a letter from her waiting for Amos when he arrived home that very evening. Addressed to both him and Talwyn, in it she confirmed what her stepfather had written to the Cornwall chief constable and said she would be in Plymouth for a full week. Apologizing for giving them such short notice, she asked if she might visit them for a day during the coming weekend, which was merely two days away. She explained she felt she could not possibly be so close to their home without visiting them, but that this was the only time she would have free during her stay in Plymouth.

Talwyn told Amos she had already replied, inviting Verity to stay with them for the whole weekend and she suggested to Amos that they invite Tom to have lunch with them on the Sunday.

Amos agreed, but he could not resist adding a wry comment about her all-too-obvious attempt at match-making having little chance of success.

 

Verity arrived by a morning train from Plymouth and was met by Tom at the Bodmin Road railway station. Despite his disparaging remarks about ‘match-making', Amos had asked Tom to take a horse-drawn wagonette from the police headquarters to bring Verity to the Hawke home.

Verity was delighted to see him and, seated beside him, was smiling happily as they drove away from the station – and here they passed Colonel Trethewy, who was being driven to the station in a similar vehicle but had arrived late to meet a relative who had been on the same train as Verity.

The Trelyn landowner recognized Tom but did not return his polite nod of acknowledgement as the two vehicles passed each other. Tom did not look back at him but Verity did.

‘Isn't that Colonel Trethewy from Trelyn?'

‘Yes.'

‘He is still watching us and has an expression as black as thunder! Have you or Amos done anything to upset him?'

Tom gave her a weak smile, ‘I think Colonel Trethewy is permanently upset with us, but yes, we had Horace Morgan in the Bodmin police station overnight this week and the colonel was not at all happy about it. Actually, had Amos and I known the full story of all Morgan had been through in India we would never have subjected him to a night in a dark cell. He had a frightening nightmare and broke down completely when we showed him your letter.'

‘Oh dear, poor man … but did you learn whether he knew his Indian wife and family are still alive?'

‘I don't believe he did and Amos agrees. It came as a great shock to him. Even so, he was embarrassingly grateful to us – and to you – for giving him the news. He has written a letter to his wife there and Amos has had it sent to her through diplomatic channels. Morgan intends returning to India as soon as we find the killer of Kerensa and the others.'

‘So he is no longer a suspect?'

‘He has to remain a suspect until we have found evidence implicating someone else, but I really don't believe he is the murderer. Nevertheless, he has been able to help us in a way that we would never have considered had your letter not persuaded him to open up to us in the way he did.'

‘I am pleased I was able to be of assistance to you, but how is the investigation progressing … and how is your young gypsy girl?'

Tom brought Verity up-to-date on where and what Zillah was doing but admitted he had not seen her for some days.

‘That's a pity. I was hoping I might have an opportunity to meet her while I was here. I have been thinking of her rather a lot in recent weeks because I have a feeling she is a quite exceptional girl. It is probably because I think you have a good eye for someone out of the ordinary. You certainly recognized the potential in Millie Farmer. She is not only extremely intelligent and possessing more than her share of common sense, but she is also quick to learn.'

‘I'm pleased. Her father will be too, he was very concerned in case he was committing his daughter to a life of sin by allowing her to go off and be a nurse.'

‘He has nothing at all to worry about. Millie is a very moral girl and I really don't know how I could manage without her now. She has already lifted a great deal of work from my shoulders,
whilst at the same time learning many of the nursing skills that have older women struggling. I am truly grateful to you for finding her for me, Tom.'

V
ERITY'S WISH TO meet with Zillah was unexpectedly fulfilled the following day when the young gypsy girl paid an unprecedented visit to the Bodmin Police headquarters in search of Tom, riding from Gassick Farm in her usual manner, with no saddle and mounted on the pony she had broken in herself.

It was a Sunday and when she had convinced the sergeant in charge of the duty office that she was known to Tom and had some important information for him – and him alone – he directed her to the local church where one of the constables had reported seeing him attending the morning service with Superintendent and Mrs Hawke and their guest.

The service was over by the time she arrived, but the vicar was standing outside the church chatting to one of his churchwardens. Whilst not telling this rather wild gypsy where they actually lived, he was able to direct her to the road along which they would be travelling on their way to the Hawke home, adding in a disapproving manner that she would no doubt be able to catch up with them, riding as she was in such an unorthodox and unladylike manner.

Putting her mount into a brisk canter she soon sighted the party ahead of her, Tom driving with Amos beside him, while the two women were seated in the back of the wagonette.

It was Verity who first saw the rider rapidly catching up with them and called out to the men. ‘We are being pursued by what appears to be a rather wild-looking girl on a horse. I suppose it couldn't be your gypsy girl, Tom?'

‘I doubt—' Looking over his shoulder as he spoke, he broke off suddenly. ‘It
is
her … it's Zillah!'

Hauling back on the reins he brought the horse and wagonette to a halt as Zillah reached them. ‘Zillah, what are you doing off the moor, has something happened?'

After a quick glance at the two women in the vehicle who were looking at her with great interest, Zillah addressed Tom. ‘I don't know if it's something you'd rather we spoke of in private. It's about the shawl I made for baby Albert.'

Both Amos and Tom were immediately interested and Amos said quickly, ‘Everyone here knows about the case, Zillah.' Pointing to each of the women in the wagonette in turn, he said, ‘This is Verity Pendleton who has been able to help us by gathering information from outside the county, and this is Talwyn, my wife … but, of course, if you have some
new
information for us it might be better if we discussed it in private.'

‘Why don't you come home with us, Zillah?' Talwyn suggested. ‘You can stay and have some lunch with us.'

Both women in the wagonette were dressed for church, while Zillah was her usual self, bareheaded and shoeless with the hem of her dress rising above her knees as a result of her unladylike riding position.

‘I'm not dressed to go into anyone's house,' Zillah replied, making it a statement of fact and not an apology, ‘and I need to return to Gassick for grandma.'

‘What a pity,' Verity said, ‘and you are the only one of us sensible enough to come out dressed for the weather. I can't wait
to get back to Amos and Talwyn's home and take some of this off.'

‘Verity is quite right,' Talwyn said, ‘but at least come to the house, Zillah. I am so sorry about your father but I know how determined Amos and Tom are to catch whoever is responsible. They have both mentioned you so often I feel as though I know you myself and I've been longing to meet you.'

When Zillah looked uncertainly at Tom, he mouthed the word ‘
please
' soundlessly and, nodding her head in Talwyn's direction, she said, ‘All right, you ride on and I'll follow … but I won't be able to stop for too long.'

‘Splendid! Wouldn't you rather ride with us in the wagonette, Zillah, then we could chat as we go along?'

Shaking her head, Zillah said, ‘The pony wouldn't let anyone else ride her and she'd play up and probably break free or hurt herself if she was tied behind a moving cart.'

Accepting her explanation, the party set off with Zillah either riding behind them or alongside, as the road allowed. When the Hawke home was reached and Zillah dismounted but hung back, Verity was particularly attentive to her, commenting on a scar that was barely visible on the gypsy girl's bare arm. Zillah explained that it had been caused by a fall from a moving caravan, when she was a small girl.

‘Who treated it for you?' she asked.

‘My Dado, he was very good at treating injuries of both animals and people.'

‘He made an excellent job of it, Zillah, most people having a cut of that length and obvious depth would have been left with an ugly scar for life. Yours can hardly be seen. I wish I had been able to meet him and learn his secret.'

Praise of her late father made Zillah more at ease with them
and when Verity went on to praise the sketches Zillah had given to Tom it opened up conversation between them even more,. However, when the gypsy girl entered the house and saw the comparative opulence of its furnishings compared with anything she had known she fell silent once more.

This time it was Tom who came to her rescue by bringing up the subject of the shawl.

‘You said you had some information for us about the shawl, Zillah, is there something else you remember about it that might make it even easier for us to recognize?'

‘It's more than that, Tom, I've seen it!'

There was a sharp intake of breath from everyone in the room; and, much to the frustration of Talwyn and Verity, Amos said, ‘This could be very important news indeed, Zillah. I think we should go outside to the garden and you can tell Sergeant Churchyard and me all about it.'

Both Verity and Talwyn were familiar with police investigations and aware that if Zillah's information was of a sensitive nature it should not be discussed in the presence of anyone not actually involved in the case. Although deeply curious about what she had to tell, they curbed their curiosity, knowing Amos would tell them in due course, if at all possible.

When the men and Zillah had left the room, Verity said, ‘What a very pretty girl … and intelligent too. It is hardly surprising Tom is so smitten with her.'

Grimacing, Talwyn said, ‘Unfortunately there can be no future in it for either of them. Tom is very well thought of in the Cornwall Constabulary but the chief constable would never allow one of his men to marry a gypsy, or even a half-gypsy, as Zillah is. She would be a pariah among her own people too if she became involved with a policeman.'

‘What a sad world we live in, Talwyn. I thought that last night when Amos was telling us about that poor man whose wife was murdered. His Indian wife was quite obviously born into a rich and influential family, yet she would never have been accepted by any of the Europeans with whom her husband worked. I learned this lesson when
I
was working in India and had some extremely intelligent Indian girls nursing my patients there. I found it very frustrating at times … but I must not bore you with my thoughts on such matters. When I last stayed with you I saw some sketches made by Zillah, does Amos still have them in his office, or have they been returned to her?'

‘Neither, he brought them home because he doesn't want to risk having them mislaid at police headquarters.'

‘Oh good! May I see them again, please? I was talking about them to an artist friend of mine in London … a woman artist, no less, and one who is very well thought of in the London art world. She thought it fascinating that a gypsy girl should show such talent without having had any formal training. I would like to be assured I was not deluding myself by praising the sketches to her.'

‘I don't think you were, I am very impressed with them too. I'll go and fetch them now and we'll look at them together while the men are outside talking to Zillah.'