would.’ Dr Otterly sounded surprised. ‘I suppose you chaps get to know about things.’
‘I’m glad to say that this sort of thing doesn’t come even our way very often. The blow must have fallen above the frill on his tunic and below the strings that tied the bag-mask. Would you say he’d been upright or prone when it happened?’
‘Your Home Office man will know better than I about that. If it was done standing I’d say it was by somebody who was just slightly taller than the poor old Guiser.’
‘Yes. Was there anybody like that in the team?’
‘No. They’re all much taller.’
‘And there you are. Let’s have a look at that whiffler, Fox.’
Fox came back with Ernie’s sword, holding it by the red cord that was threaded through the tip. ‘You can see the stains left by all that green stuff,’ he said. ‘And sharp! You’d be astounded.’
‘We’d better put Bailey on it for dabs though I don’t fancy there’s much future there. What do you think, Dr Otterly? Could this be the weapon?’
‘Without closer examination of the wound, I wouldn’t like to say. It would depend – but no,’ Dr Otterly said, ‘I can’t give an opinion.’
Alleyn had turned away and was looking at the garments hanging on the wall. ‘Tar over everything. On the Betty’s skirt, the Sons’ trousers and I suppose on a good many village maidens’ stockings and shoes to say nothing of their coats.’
‘It’s a cult,’ Dr Otterly said.
‘Fertility rite?’
‘Of course.’
‘See old Uncle T. Frazer and all,’ Alleyn muttered. He turned to the rabbit. ‘Recently killed and gutted with head left on. Strings on it. What for?’
‘He wore it on his head.’
‘How very undelicious. Why?’
‘Helped the decapitation effect. He put his head through the lock of swords, untied the strings and, as the Sons drew the swords, he let the rabbit’s head drop. They do it in the Grenoside sword dance too, I believe. It’s quite startling – the effect.’
‘I dare say. In this case, rather overshadowed by the subsequent event,’ Alleyn said drily.
‘All right!’ Dr Otterly ejaculated with some violence. ‘I know it’s beastly. All right.’
Alleyn glanced at him and then turned to look at ‘Crack’s’ harness. ‘This must weigh a tidy lump. How does he wear it?’
‘The head is on a sort of rod. His own head is inside the canvas neck. It was made in the smithy.’
‘The century before last?’
‘Or before that. The body too. It hangs from the yoke. His head goes through a hole into the canvas tube, which has got a sort of window in it. “Crack’s” head is on top again and joined to the yoke by the flexible rod inside the neck. By torchlight it looks quite a thing.’
‘I believe you,’ Alleyn said absently. He examined the harness and then turned to the Betty’s crinoline. ‘How does this go on? It’s a mountain of a garment.’
‘It hangs from a kind of yoke, too. But in this case, the arms are free. The frame, as you see, is made of withies like basket-work. In the old days there used to be quite a lot of fairly robust fun with the Betty. The chap who was acting her would chase some smaller fellow round the ring and pop the crinoline thing right over him and go prancing off with the little chap hidden under his petticoats as it were. You can imagine the sort of barracking that went on.’
‘Heaps of broad bucolic fun,’ Alleyn said, ‘was doubtless had by all. It’s got a touch of the tarbrush, too, but not much.’
‘I expect Ralph kept clear of “Crack” as well as he could.’
‘And the Guiser?’ Alleyn returned to the bier and removed the sheet completely.
‘A little tar on the front of the tunic and –’ He stooped. ‘Quite a lot on the hands,’ he said. ‘Did he handle the tar barrel, do you know?’
‘Earlier in the day perhaps. But no. He was out of action, earlier. Does it matter?’
‘It might,’ Alleyn said, it might matter very much indeed. Then again not. Have you noticed this fairly recent gash across the palm of his right hand?’
‘I saw it done.’ Dr Otterly’s gaze travelled to the whiffler which Fox still held by the ribbons. He looked away quickly.
‘With that thing,’ Alleyn asked, ‘by any chance?’
‘Actually, yes.’
‘How did it happen?’
‘It was nothing, really. A bit of a dust-up about it being too sharp. He – ah – he tried to grab it away from – well from –’
‘Don’t tell me,’ Alleyn said. ‘Ernie.’
IV
The shutters were down over the Private Bar and the room was deserted. Camilla went in and sat by the fire. Since last night she had felt the cold. It was as if some of her own natural warmth had deserted her. When the landlord had driven her and Trixie back to the pub from Mardian Castle, Camilla shivered so violently that they gave her a scalding toddy and two aspirins and Trixie put three stone hot-jugs in her bed. Eventually, she had dropped into a doze and was running away again from ‘Crack’. He was the big drum in a band. Somebody beat him with two swords making a sound like a fiddle. His jaws snapped, dreadfully close. She experienced the dream of frustrated escape. His breath was hot on her neck and her feet were leaden. Then there was Ralph with his arms strapped close about her, saying: ‘It’s all right. I’ll take care of you.’ That was heaven at first, but even that wasn’t quite satisfactory because Ralph was trying to stop her looking at something. In the over-distinct voice of nightmare, he said: ‘You don’t want to watch Ernie because it’s not most awfully nice.’ But Ernie jumped up on the dolmen and shouted at the top of his voice: ‘What price blood for the stone?’ Then all the Morris bells began to jingle like an alarm clock and she woke.
Awake, she remembered how Ralph had, in fact, run to where she and Trixie stood and had told them to go to the car at once. That was after Ernie had fainted and Dame Alice had made her announcement. The landlord, Tom Plowman, had gone up to the stone and had been ordered away by Dr Otterly and Superintendent Carey. He drove the girls back to the pub and, on the way, told them in great detail what he had seen. He was very excited and pleased with himself for having looked behind the stone. In one of her dreams during the night, Camilla thought he made her look too.
Now she sat by the fire and tried to get a little order into her thoughts. It was her grandfather who had been murdered, dreadfully and mysteriously, and it was her uncle who had exulted and collapsed. She herself, therefore, must be said to be involved. She felt as if she was marooned and deserted. For the first
