‘Got a plan, eh? Trick Tredegar into giving himself away,’ said Sir Hector.
‘We’ll see,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Does the office of Grand Eternal Poobah entitle you to call extraordinary meetings of the club? Would you be able to get a few of the chaps here this evening at seven o’clock, do you think?’
Sir Hector’s eyes lit up. ‘I shall give it a jolly good try,’ he said with enthusiasm. ‘Be good to have a project. Just tell me who you need and I’ll get Bert on to it at once.’
‘Thank you, dear,’ she said, kissing him on the cheek. She took out her notebook and pencil and scribbled a list of names which she tore out and handed to Sir Hector. ‘Just these chaps, if you will, please.’
‘Certainly, certainly,’ he said, clutching the torn scrap of paper as though it were vital military orders. ‘Can we give you a lift home?’
‘That’s very kind,’ she said, ‘But don’t worry about us; it’s just a short walk home and we need a chance to talk a few things over.’
‘Right you are, m’dear,’ he said. ‘Lead the way, and I’ll lock up.’
We set off for home.
‘You’re a sly one, my lady,’ I said as I placed a plate of sandwiches on the cast iron table in the garden.
‘Me, pet? Sly? Surely not.’
The sun was still shining, the birds were singing, the bees were buzzing and there was a proper feeling of early summer in the air. And Lady Hardcastle was very much back to full fitness, both physically and mentally.
‘Yes, my lady,’ I said. ‘Sly. I’ve been working with you for… what is it?… fifteen years?… and you still love to do your cards-close-to-the-chest, magician’s flourish, “ta-dah” thing. Sly. Underhand. Sneaky.’
She laughed. ‘“Ta-dah”?’
‘Ta, as you clearly heard, dah.’ I finished pouring the ginger beer and sat down. ‘“I say, Flo, dear, I’ve got absolutely no idea what could possibly be going on. Here, hold my hat while I grub around on the floor for a bit and solve the mystery.”’
She was still laughing. ‘Sigh no more, Flo. Emilies were deceivers ever. I just don’t like to announce my wilder thoughts until I’m more certain of my footing.’
‘Pfft,’ I said, and picked up a ham sandwich. ‘And I suppose you know who the thief is.’
She grinned. ‘I’ve a pretty good idea now, yes.’
I looked at her expectantly, gesturing for her to elucidate, but she just carried on grinning.
‘Pfft,’ I said again, and tucked in to my sandwich.
At seven o’clock that evening we were sitting in the committee room at Littleton Cotterell Rugby Club, waiting for our guests to arrive. Sir Hector had been the first and was sipping on the generously sized gin and tonic he had poured himself at the bar.
‘Bottoms up,’ he had said as he sat down and waited excitedly with us.
Next to arrive was club president, Lancelot Treble. He, too, had poured himself a drink and he made small talk while he tried to arrange his tall frame comfortably in one of the committee chairs.
Winger Billy Flynn arrived, looking troubled and careworn. He didn’t have a drink, but he looked the most in need of one. Things were clearly still not looking good at the engineering workshop.
The stocky little forward Jim Molson had come in with him but his mood was noticeably brighter and now the gathering was complete.
Once they were all seated, Lady Hardcastle stood and began to pace around the room as though giving a lecture.
‘Thank you all so much for coming,’ she said, smiling sweetly. ‘I know it must have been a rush for you to get here so soon after work and I hope not to keep you too long.’
‘What’s it all about?’ said Lancelot Treble. ‘I thought Dobson had arrested Tredegar for the burglary.’
‘He has,’ she said. ‘But there have been certain… developments… and I believe he has the wrong man.’
A murmur went round the table. I scanned the faces for signs of guilt or fear, but no one was giving anything away.
‘If you’ll all be good enough to indulge me,’ she continued, ‘I’d like to recount the events of Friday evening as we understand them.’
‘We all know what happened,’ said Molson, belligerently. ‘We was all here.’
‘Quite, Mr Molson,’ she said, evenly. ‘But it shall all make so much more sense if I start at the beginning.’
He huffed, but said no more.
She resumed her pacing. ‘On Friday evening, we enjoyed a delicious meal at the Grey Goose and then the ladies retired discreetly while you gentlemen returned here to the club to… to… whatever on earth is it that you do that makes you so ashamed that you can’t bear to speak of it in front of ladies. No matter. You indulged yourselves with drink and carousing until shortly after dawn when you four were the last to leave. You walked home through the village while some unseen and unknown stranger entered the clubhouse through the unlocked storeroom door. He stepped in some oil and left a trail of bootprints as he ransacked the committee room and stole the Wessex Challenge Cup and a few other mementoes. The police were summoned by the caretaker in the morning and bafflement ensued.’
‘That much we already knew,’ said Flynn. ‘Big Jim’s already said that we were all here. We know all that.’
She smiled indulgently. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘we all know all that, except that’s not what happened.’
I swear I could almost hear the whoosh of their heads all turning sharply towards her.