The Elusive Bowman by Vivian Francis

Author:Vivian, Francis [Vivian, Francis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, British
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Published: 1951-10-12T20:56:53+00:00

Chapter 10

THE MYSTERY OF MADDISON

Lancaster was sleeping uneasily when the telephone roused him at six next morning. He turned over in bed, reached for the instrument, and listened intently. He swung himself to the edge of the bed. “I’ll be down right away,” he said.

He chuckled as he dialled Knollis’s hotel. It was time the fellow was up; he could help with the worrying.

“Lancaster here,” he announced. “Just a call from the office. The Teverby constable has brought in a poacher who says he has something to tell us, but will only come clean to me and the London gentleman. See you down there!”

Police-constable Robinson was smiling broadly when Lancaster met him in the corridor and hustled him to the office.

“What’s it all about, Robinson?”

“I’ve been trying to pick up Wilson for the past three months, sir,” said Robinson, “and I got him tonight! He’s been working Ell Wood, and slipping me every time. I suddenly realised what he was doing—going through an old culvert and coming out on the other side of the boundary, so I waited at the other end for him and caught him with two purse-nets and half a dozen copper snares. They fetched him in for me, and now he says he must see you and Inspector Knollis.”

Knollis hurried into the room, still heavy-eyed with sleep, and Robinson repeated his story.

“Better fetch him in,” said Lancaster. He turned to Knollis. “John Henry Wilson is one of our die-hard poachers. He’s been down four times now, but can’t leave the game alone. It’s more a hobby than a profession for him.”

Wilson was a ferretty little man with a blue and red checked scarf and large dirty hands. He favoured them with an ingratiating smile, and shuffled toward the desk.

Lancaster clicked his tongue sympathetically. “What was it this time, Wilson? Bad luck, or a mistake on the constable’s part? Or weren’t you there at all and he picked on the wrong man?”

“I wasn’t after anything,” Wilson said naively. “I just like being out in the moonlight, that’s all!”

“And the snares and nets?”

Wilson squirmed and gave a greasy smile. “I found them in the wood, sir! I’‘d just picked them up when Mr. Robinson came along—and there I was with them in my hands! What could I say?”

“You’ll have to learn a new technique,” said Lancaster. “You know, learn to charm them out of their burrows, and then you won’t be caught in suspicious circumstances. Learn to whistle ’em so that they follow you home and give themselves up. Been in the charge-room yet?”

“They never forget that,” said Wilson. “Trespassing, and being found on enclosed land in possession…”

He wiped his sleeve across a moist nose.

“There’s a thing, Mr. Lancaster.”

“Now look,” said Lancaster, pointing the butt end of his pen at him, “it can’t be your wife this time! To my knowledge she’s had three babies in twelve months, and if you say she’s going to have another I just won’t believe you!”

“It was something I saw,” sniffed Wilson, “and it was the night Mr.

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