The Belting Inheritance by Julian Symons

Author:Julian Symons
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: The Belting Inheritance
ISBN: 9780755128143
Publisher: House of Stratus
Published: 2013-01-03T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Scene in a Courtyard

“You almost knocked me over.” I was held effectively in Uncle Miles’ arms, and even Elaine paused for a few seconds before running to the corner of the alley. She came back. “He’s gone.”

I attempted explanation. “It was a man, he crossed the road suddenly and ran down there.”

Uncle Miles looked at us as if we had taken leave of our senses. “What man? Who was he?”

“He said his name was Ulfheim. Or it might have been Strawman.”

“Strawman?” Uncle Miles began to giggle and then the giggle turned into a laugh. He pointed to the name on the corner. It said Brick Alley. Between gasps of laughter he asked, “Do you suppose he’s a bit of the straw they make bricks out of? He’s vanished into the bricks, that’s where he’s gone. Strawman into Brick Alley.”

I began to laugh too. Elaine looked at me in amazement.

“Strawman,” I said. “Went into Brick Alley. Can’t make bricks without straw, do you get it?”

“Yes. And that’s funny?”

I gave up. Uncle Miles coughed. I introduced him and explained, as I felt I had to, that she was the niece of Ted Sullivan.

He looked hunted. “I told you I wasn’t at home, I don’t know anything about it.”

“No Wainwright wants to remember it or know much about it, isn’t that right?” Elaine demanded militantly. She had put on her glasses. “It’s no good going after that man now, whatever his name was. And anyway, I must get back to the office.”

“Shall I see you again?” I was aware that I wanted to.

“You’ll find the number in the book.”

Uncle Miles gazed after her. “What a forceful young woman. Whatever were you doing together? I don’t suppose you’ll tell me. But I have a bone to pick with you, Christopher. Let us find somewhere to pick it in peace.”

Five minutes later we were settled in the tea lounge of one of Folkestone’s stuffier restaurants. While we were talking there, and Uncle Miles was ordering coffee and sweet biscuits, of which he was very fond, I had been trying to solve a problem. Had Mr Ulfheim bolted down Brick Alley because he wanted to avoid Uncle Miles, had Uncle Miles put his arms round me in order effectively to check our pursuit of Mr Ulfheim? Or had Mr Ulfheim simply been engaged in getting away from us? I could not ignore the fact that through meeting Uncle Miles we had lost Mr Ulfheim, yet looking at his red face and bald head, considering his air of pettish annoyance and the way in which it was assuaged by the sweet biscuits, it was hard to associate him with anything that required even a small amount of devious cunning.

“We should have had tea,” Uncle Miles said abruptly.

“Why?”

“Because you need tannin.” I laughed dutifully. “You didn’t tell me you’d been to see that woman.”

For a moment I couldn’t think what he was talking about. “You mean Betty Urquhart?”

“That terrible woman.”

I said mendaciously, “I thought Stephen would have told you.

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