Eye For A Tooth Read Free Page B

a Salzburg Bank – under sealed cover and marked ‘For Safe Custody.’
    Here I should say that not until then did I learn that, while George and I were waiting for him at Salzburg, Mansel, Carson and Rowley were doing a dreadful duty some hundred odd miles away.
    “It was always clear,” said Mansel, “that it had to be done. In the first place, the dead deserve burial. In the second place, so long as it lay unburied, the body might well have been found, and, rightly or wrongly, it is our present aim to deny to those who killed Bowshot all evidence of his death. As things stand, we’ve done more than that, for we have convinced the Consul that Bowshot is still alive. And so his disappearance will not be announced. That will perplex the murderers: they will not know what to think: but they will be forced to the conclusion that for some reason or other the body has not been found. What action they’ll take, I don’t know. But if, as I think, they are anxious that Bowshot should be known to be dead, they may pursue the matter. Putting myself in their place, if there was a lot at stake, I should have a stab. I may be entirely wrong, but I think I’m right. I can’t get over that label’s being pulled out. Why pull it out, if they only wanted Bowshot out of the way? They didn’t only want that. They wanted more. They wanted proof that Major John Bowshot was dead. And it must be provoking for them, when they know he is dead, to think that they’re losing their labour because the Austrian police don’t know their job. So very provoking that they may feel compelled to come back. I mean, that’s what I should do…”
     
    It was two days after our raid that we took up our quarters at Goschen – a decent farm, some fourteen miles from Latchet and twelve from the fatal spot on the Salzburg–Villach road. This was very much better than any inn, for the house was agreeably placed and as private as we could wish. Though few would have guessed it, it was in fact served by two drives, the lesser of which ran out of the stable-yard: from there it passed through woods for a quarter of a mile, before slipping into a byroad which led to a hamlet called Talc. And here were crossroads. But the principal drive ran out of the Villach road. We, therefore, had a ‘back door,’ the approach to which was well masked; so that, if we took ordinary care, to keep a watch on our movements would be very hard. Then, again, there was a very fair trout stream, five minutes’ stroll from the house. But, best of all, the people were used to the English and had received them as guests before the Great War. It is, I think, common knowledge that during those four lean years their country was ranged against us largely against its will, and these poor peasants were not only plainly thankful to see some English again, but clearly most anxious to prove the goodwill which they felt. This was, of course, of great value; for our goings out and our comings in were pretty sure to be most irregular.
    Still, fortunate as we were, it was no good sitting still and wondering what was toward. If things were going to happen, they were going to happen at Latchet or close to the Salzburg road. So within six hours of our settling down at the farm, Mansel took George and myself to show us as much as he knew. And Bell went with us.
    Before leaving, we studied the map. This showed that, as the crow flies, Latchet lay less than three miles from where Mansel had found the body in the midst of the way.
    “There may be a path,” said Mansel, “but that is for us to find out. By road, as you see, it’s nearly eleven miles; and it is not clear that Bowshot had the use of a car. You heard no mention of one. Now I said, if you remember, that his body had been dragged from the woods. That was going too far. I can only swear it was dragged from the side of the road. So he may have been brought there by car. But I don’t think he was. If I am to speculate, I think he was on