The Case of the Missing Bronte by Robert Barnard

Author:Robert Barnard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scribner

CHAPTER 10

AT THE SIGN OF THE RISEN MOSES

After a night spent tossing and turning in one of Miss Wing’s inadequate little beds I arose next morning with sore bones, a general feeling of depression, and a sinking sense that I had little or no idea what to do next. Which way was my decidedly erratic investigation going to direct itself now? Admittedly there were some loose ends to be cleared up, and I pottered around clearing them — phoning here and there to fill in the picture. I checked with the hospital and there was a glimmer of good news about Miss Wing’s condition: there seemed to be signs of returning consciousness, though they were still unsure how far the brain was affected, and it would certainly be several days before she could be questioned. Then I heard from the Bradford police about two Scandinavians who had stayed at an obscure guest-house on the outskirts of the town. They had checked out yesterday, with no forwarding address. They had given their names as Hans Olsen and Jens Nilsen, of Oslo. Ho-ho, I thought. The Norwegian equivalent of John Smith and Bill Brown of London. Another door slammed in my face.

For there really did not seem to be anything very obvious to follow up next, and I could hardly sit around in the cottage day after day at the Yorkshire police’s expense, waiting for something to turn up.

It was at that point that Jan rang.

‘Hello. Still feeling down in the dumps?’

‘I’m certainly not dancing tiptoe through the clouds. So if you’ve rung me up to tell me what a cock-up I’m making of this case, Jan, you can just ring off. I have no idea where the manuscript is. The two Scands have disappeared, leaving behind them nothing but false names and Oslo as their address. And I haven’t had a single idea about any possible connection Tennyson may have with the case . . .’

‘Ah yes, Tennyson,’ said Jan, with an unmistakable ooze of self-satisfaction in her voice. ‘I rather think you may have been barking up the wrong tree there, Perry.’

‘You mean not Alfred, Lord?’

‘No, more Björn Borg.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I’ve been on the phone to a friend doing Scandinavian languages at Newcastle.’

‘You all do the oddest things at Newcastle. But go on.’

‘In Norwegian the definite article “en” is added to the end of masculine nouns . . .’

It took quite some time to sink in.

‘Oh, Christ. Tennis-en. You mean the blighters were just talking about bloody tennis. Well, thank you very much, Jan. That’s another door up another alley closed in my face.’

‘Do you really think so, Perry? Surely they wouldn’t have been talking about going to play a genteel match or two as a break from the serious business of thuggery? You said they looked as if they were talking business. Perry, I don’t know if you’ve seen the papers today — ’

Then I cottoned on.

‘Of course! I’ve been seeing posters all over. The North of England Championships.

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