Death of a Delft Blue by Gladys Mitchell

Author:Gladys Mitchell [Mitchell, Gladys]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery
Google: eU6pXwAACAAJ
Amazon: B001752IKW
Publisher: Michael Joseph
Published: 1964-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

CHAPTER TWELVE

Towards Kinderscout

‘Delay is kind,

And we too soon shall find

That which we seek, yet fear to know.’

Thomas Stanley

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Laura made haste to contact Dame Beatrice, who told her to stay in Amsterdam where she would join her on the following day.

‘I think Sweyn knows something,’ said Laura, when they met. ‘All that guff about Saxon crosses in Derbyshire is so much mashed potato, you know.’

‘You surmise that these Saxon crosses do not exist?’

‘Oh, I’m quite sure they do, but why should he be so anxious to refer to them and to advise me so strongly to go and see them?’

‘You have led him to believe that you are interested in rune-stones.’

‘Yes, but Saxon crosses don’t bear much resemblance to rune-stones, except that lots of rune-stones have a religious bias, and can be found in churchyards. No, he was giving me a broad hint. I want to know why.’

‘We could go to Derbyshire and find out, child.’

‘I hoped you’d say that. Of course, my hunch may be quite wrong. I may be taking you on a wild-goose chase.’

‘I have great faith in your hunches. Purchase steamer tickets. By tomorrow night, at the latest, we can be back in London. There you shall hie you to a public library and read all about Derbyshire, a county of great charm and with some delightful natural scenery, and one with which I have only the most superficial acquaintance. Indeed, except for a tea once in Glossop and a lunch, on another occasion, in Matlock Bath, I know nothing about it at all.’

‘Read up all I can find about Derbyshire? A job after my own heart,’ said Laura. ‘You shall know the county from A to Z by the time I’ve finished.’

What she came up with at the end of her researches was of significant interest. Dame Beatrice listened as, after dinner, Laura read her notes aloud.

‘Most interesting stuff,’ she said, before she began her recital, ‘and, if Florian was really keen on caves and holes and things, definitely germane to the issue.’

She proceeded to describe deep fissures, eerie caverns, abandoned lead mines, underground lakes, stalactites and mysterious streams.

‘You will enjoy yourself,’ said Dame Beatrice, at the end of the recital.

‘You’re not thinking of coming with me, then?’

‘No, I have decided that my work lies in North Norfolk, and that, in any case, you will be happier without me. I should be very much obliged, though, if you would take a companion. Can you think of anyone who might like to go?’

‘Most people, I suppose, are otherwise engaged at this time of year. Old Kitty wouldn’t be any good at pot-holing, and it’s the wrong time of year for Alice — bang between her summer holiday and the break at half-term.’

‘Suppose I could arrange for our dear Robert to accompany you, would you like that?’

‘Gavin?’ said Laura, referring to her husband, as usual, by his surname. ‘Could you really wangle it?’

‘I could try.’

As Dame Beatrice’s infrequent but powerful representations to the Home

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