make a small school assembly hall, and climbed the stairs. Sounds of conversation and glasses as from a saloon bar followed them upstairs from one of the ground-floor rooms. The Wilkinson Square vigilantes had made great play of drunkards falling noisily out of the Club late at night and then falling noisily into their cars, which were parked in a most inconsiderate manner all round the Square. Wield had found no evidence to support these assertions.
Haggard did not pause on the first-floor landing but proceeded up the now somewhat narrower staircase. Observing Pascoe hesitate, he explained, 'Mainly classrooms here. Used for storage now. I suppose I could domesticate them again but I've got so comfortably settled aloft that it doesn't seem worth it. Do come in. Have a seat while I pour you something. Scotch all right?'
'Great,' said Pascoe. He didn't sit down immediately but strolled around the room, hoping he didn't look too like a policeman but not caring all that much if he did. Haggard was right. He was very comfortable. Was the room rather too self-consciously a gentleman's study? The rows of leather-bound volumes, the huge Victorian desk, the miniatures on the wall, the elegant chesterfield, the display cabinet full of snuff-boxes, these things must have impressed socially aspiring parents.
I wonder, mused Pascoe, pausing before the cabinet, how they impress the paying customer now.
'Are you a collector?' asked Haggard, handing him a glass.
'Just an admirer of other people's collections,' said Pascoe.
'An essential part of the cycle,' said Haggard. 'This might interest you.'
He reached in and picked up a hexagonal enamelled box with the design of a hanging man on the lid.
'One of your illustrious predecessors. Jonathan Wild, Thief-taker, himself taken and hanged in1725. Such commemorative design is quite common-place on snuffboxes.'
'Like ashtrays from Blackpool,’ said Pascoe.
'Droll,' said Haggard, replacing the box and taking out another, an ornate silver affair heavily embossed with a coat of arms.
'Mid-European,' said Haggard. 'And beautifully airtight. This is the one I actually keep snuff in. Do you take it?'
'Not if I can help it.'
'Perhaps you're wise. In the Middle Ages they thought that sneezing could put your soul within reach of the devil. I should hate you to lose your soul for a pinch of snuff, Inspector.'
'You seem willing to take the risk.'
'I take it to clear my head,' smiled Haggard. 'Perhaps I should take some now before you start asking your questions. I presume you have some query concerning the Club?'
'In a way. It's a bit different from teaching, isn't it?' said Pascoe, sitting down.
'Is it? Oh, I don't know. It's all educational, don't you think?'
'Not a word some people would find it easy to apply to what goes on here, Dr Haggard,' said Pascoe.
'Not a word many people find it easy to apply to much of what goes on in schools today, Inspector.'
'Still, for all that . . .' tempted Pascoe.
Haggard regarded him very magisterially.
'My dear fellow,' he said. 'When we're much better acquainted, and you have proved to have a more than professionally sympathetic ear, and I have been mellowed by food, wine and a good cigar, then perhaps I may invite you to contemplate the strange flutterings of my psyche from one human vanity to another. Should the time arrive, I shall let you know. Meanwhile, let's stick with your presence here tonight. Have my neighbours undergone a new bout of hysteria?'
'Not that I know of,' said Pascoe. 'No, it's about one of your films. One I saw tonight. Droit de Seigneur.'
'Ah yes. The costume drama.'
'Costume!' said Pascoe.
'Did the nudity bother you?' said Haggard anxiously.
'I don't think so. Anyway it was the assault scene I wanted to talk about, where the girl gets beaten up.'
'You found it too violent? I'm astounded.'
'The scene was brought to my attention . . .'
'By whom?' interrupted Haggard. 'Has he not seen A Clockwork Orange? The Exorcist?
Haggard did not pause on the first-floor landing but proceeded up the now somewhat narrower staircase. Observing Pascoe hesitate, he explained, 'Mainly classrooms here. Used for storage now. I suppose I could domesticate them again but I've got so comfortably settled aloft that it doesn't seem worth it. Do come in. Have a seat while I pour you something. Scotch all right?'
'Great,' said Pascoe. He didn't sit down immediately but strolled around the room, hoping he didn't look too like a policeman but not caring all that much if he did. Haggard was right. He was very comfortable. Was the room rather too self-consciously a gentleman's study? The rows of leather-bound volumes, the huge Victorian desk, the miniatures on the wall, the elegant chesterfield, the display cabinet full of snuff-boxes, these things must have impressed socially aspiring parents.
I wonder, mused Pascoe, pausing before the cabinet, how they impress the paying customer now.
'Are you a collector?' asked Haggard, handing him a glass.
'Just an admirer of other people's collections,' said Pascoe.
'An essential part of the cycle,' said Haggard. 'This might interest you.'
He reached in and picked up a hexagonal enamelled box with the design of a hanging man on the lid.
'One of your illustrious predecessors. Jonathan Wild, Thief-taker, himself taken and hanged in1725. Such commemorative design is quite common-place on snuffboxes.'
'Like ashtrays from Blackpool,’ said Pascoe.
'Droll,' said Haggard, replacing the box and taking out another, an ornate silver affair heavily embossed with a coat of arms.
'Mid-European,' said Haggard. 'And beautifully airtight. This is the one I actually keep snuff in. Do you take it?'
'Not if I can help it.'
'Perhaps you're wise. In the Middle Ages they thought that sneezing could put your soul within reach of the devil. I should hate you to lose your soul for a pinch of snuff, Inspector.'
'You seem willing to take the risk.'
'I take it to clear my head,' smiled Haggard. 'Perhaps I should take some now before you start asking your questions. I presume you have some query concerning the Club?'
'In a way. It's a bit different from teaching, isn't it?' said Pascoe, sitting down.
'Is it? Oh, I don't know. It's all educational, don't you think?'
'Not a word some people would find it easy to apply to what goes on here, Dr Haggard,' said Pascoe.
'Not a word many people find it easy to apply to much of what goes on in schools today, Inspector.'
'Still, for all that . . .' tempted Pascoe.
Haggard regarded him very magisterially.
'My dear fellow,' he said. 'When we're much better acquainted, and you have proved to have a more than professionally sympathetic ear, and I have been mellowed by food, wine and a good cigar, then perhaps I may invite you to contemplate the strange flutterings of my psyche from one human vanity to another. Should the time arrive, I shall let you know. Meanwhile, let's stick with your presence here tonight. Have my neighbours undergone a new bout of hysteria?'
'Not that I know of,' said Pascoe. 'No, it's about one of your films. One I saw tonight. Droit de Seigneur.'
'Ah yes. The costume drama.'
'Costume!' said Pascoe.
'Did the nudity bother you?' said Haggard anxiously.
'I don't think so. Anyway it was the assault scene I wanted to talk about, where the girl gets beaten up.'
'You found it too violent? I'm astounded.'
'The scene was brought to my attention . . .'
'By whom?' interrupted Haggard. 'Has he not seen A Clockwork Orange? The Exorcist?
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