‘Did you see anyone else?’
‘I think we saw Toby Thompson getting his cows in for milking – early start for those chaps, not sure I could stand it myself.’
‘But no one you didn’t recognize? No mystery miscreants?’ she said.
‘We could barely recognize each other by then,’ he said. ‘But no, no lurking lawbreakers or vagrant villains.’
‘Any nefarious ne’er-do-wells?’ I said.
‘No, nor any felonious footpads,’ he replied with a smile.
Lady Hardcastle had taken out her notepad and pencil. ‘These other three chaps,’ she said, ‘what were their names again? They sounded like a gang of rogues and ruffians themselves.’
He chuckled. ‘Couldn’t be further from the truth. There was “Flying” Billy Flynn; he’s our left winger. Then there was Big Jim Molson; he plays in the front row. And last but by no means the least substantial, there was Donovan “Lofty” Tredegar; he’s a lock forward.’
‘I see,’ she said, scribbling down the details. ‘Do you have addresses for them? I should like to speak to them.’
‘Of course. But if you come over here on Monday evening they’ll all be here for training.’
‘Training?’ I said. ‘I thought the season was over.’
‘Final day of the season next week,’ he said. ‘We traditionally host a bit of a picnic and booze-up here for the local clubs – Chipping Bevington, Woodworthy, and so on – and we have a five-a-side tournament. It’s just a bit of fun but everyone likes to take it seriously. They’ll be discussing tactics and whatnot on Monday.’
‘If you have no objections, then,’ said Lady Hardcastle, ‘we shall come over and have a quick word with them, just to see if any of them remembers anything useful.’
‘You’ll both be more than welcome,’ he said. ‘We start at around six o’clock and we’ll likely be here until at least nine.’
Lady Hardcastle put her notebook back in here bag and stood. I rose, too, and this time Mr Treble was more mindful of his manners and leapt to his own feet.
‘We shall see you on Monday evening, then,’ she said.
‘I look forward to it,’ he replied, with a little bow. ‘Is it all right if Freeborn comes over and cleans the place up now?’
‘Check with the constable,’ she said, ‘but tell him I have no objections.’
‘Thank you, Lady Hardcastle,’ he said. ‘Good day to you.’
‘And good day to you, Mr Treble.’
We went back out into the sunshine and looked for Constable Hancock but he was nowhere to be seen so we set off for home, stopping at the police station on the way to make a brief report to Sergeant Dobson.
Sunday. Ah, Sunday. What would life be without Sundays? A good deal more interesting, I fancy. Somehow we endured another one, sustained by the pleasure of spending several hours in the dining room after lunch creating another Crime Board in an attempt to resolve the mystery of the purloined trophy.
‘It seems to me,’ said Lady Hardcastle, carefully placing her coffee cup back on its saucer and gazing at the blackboard, ‘that our thief must have had an extra special reason to steal only the cup and the other tat. The first thing anyone says when they see what happened is, “Why didn’t he take the booze and the cash?” He walked past some very saleable loot and went straight for the junk and the cup.’
‘It does seem very odd, my lady,’ I said. ‘And he definitely knew where he was going, too. He even knew he could take a look in through the window to make sure the coast was clear.’
‘It’s an inside job, isn’t it,’ she said.
‘I can’t see any reasonable alternative. It’s someone who knew the club and had some special reason for pinching the memorabilia and the cup. No passing opportunist would have done that.’
‘Nor would they have been so foolish as to step in the oil and leave such obvious tracks,’ she said. ‘Even the most dullardly thief would take care over something like that.’
‘A drunken rugby player on the other hand…’
‘Well, quite,’ she said, standing up. ‘We must definitely go along to their training tomorrow evening and see what Treble’s three friends have to say for themselves.’
‘Right you are, my lady,’ I said. ‘Tea?’
‘What a splendid idea,’ she said. ‘And perhaps some toast and marmalade.’
‘Coming right up.’
Monday passed in a blur of laundry, grocery shopping and nagging Lady Hardcastle to tidy the papers in her study. We had taken tea in the garden and by the time I had tidied up and made sure that there was something interesting in the pantry for supper, I was exhausted. I wasn’t at all looking forward to the trip to the rugby club.
‘Oh come on,’ chivvied Lady Hardcastle. ‘Don’t be such a misery guts. It’ll be fun, I promise. There’s a mystery there, just waiting to be solved.’
‘And sweaty men in rugger togs,’ I said with a grimace.
‘That too. It’ll be a lark. Best foot forward, missy; the sooner we get there, the sooner we’re back.’
And so we had strolled in the warm evening air back to the rugby club.
Training had already begun by the time we arrived, and we sat on the verandah of the clubhouse for a while watching as Mr Treble put the team through their paces.
‘I hadn’t realized he was the team coach,’ I said.
‘Nor had I,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘He’d been running up and down the touchline at the cup match, but I thought it was just because he was an enthusiastic supporter.’
While the players caught their breath after a particularly strenuous exercise, Mr Treble approached us.
‘Good evening, ladies,’ he said amiably. ‘Glad you could come.’
‘Thank you for inviting us,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Are the men here that we wish to speak to?’
‘They are, my lady,’ he said. ‘Your best chance of speaking to them alone would be if I were to send them over one at a time. If you wait until we’re finished they’ll all be in the bar and you’ll never get a chance to speak to them.’
‘That would be most helpful, Mr Treble,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’ She took out her notebook and pencil. ‘Do you think we might start with… with… ah, here we are… with Mr Flynn?’
‘I’ll send him over,’ he said, and walked off. He spoke to a lithe fellow of medium height who looked over towards us. When Treble had finished speaking, the man nodded and walked over to the pavilion.
‘Good evening, Mr Flynn,’ said Lady Hardcastle.
‘Good evening, Lady Hardcastle,’ said Flynn. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Do sit down. I understand you were among the last to leave the club on the night of the dinner.’
He sat in the remaining chair. ‘I was, yes.’
‘Did you see anyone or anything unusual?’
He thought for a moment. ‘No, not really. There wasn’t really anyone about at all. Old Toby Whatsisname up in the pasture there, but no one else to speak of.’