The Thread of Evidence Read Free

formed on the wide gravel drive of Carmel House, ready to meet him.
    Griffith managed to suppress his excitement under a gruff official manner. After being introduced to the holidaymakers, he turned back to the garden gates.
    â€˜Right, we’ll get on up there, then.’
    Peter, in defiance of Mary’s threats, was determined not to miss anything. He knew the constable quite well, both from shooting trips and meetings in the local public house.
    â€˜Mind if I come up, Wynne? This sounds interesting.’
    Griffith nodded, but there was a cautious look on his face.
    â€˜I suppose it’s all right, Mr Adams – but you won’t go writing anything in your paper, will you? At least, not until you have a word with my inspector.’
    Peter laughed off the other’s fears.
    â€˜I’m on holiday, Wynne – so don’t worry.’
    Given this ambiguous assurance, the constable set off up the cliff path opposite the gates of the house. With Peter bringing up the rear, the little party followed a winding sheep track through the bracken. Climbing higher and higher up the steep slope, they saw the house shrink in size until it looked like a toy below them. The village behind them came into sight, resembling a medieval map spread out at the top of the valley.
    The little doctor began to puff with exertion, and even the constable had to remove his helmet to mop the sweat from his brow. The sun was on the horizon, but it was still warm as they finally reached the summit of the cliff and found themselves on the fairly level grass at the top.
    They paused for a breather and Peter looked seawards at the great sweep of Cardigan Bay which was now visible.
    â€˜My God, what a view!’ exclaimed one of the Coventry visitors, taking in the wall of cliffs marching to the horizon on either side, with the green sea and white rollers at their feet.
    The policeman was in no mood for scenery and started off along the ridge to the south. On their right, the smooth grass and ferns swept down to the limestone crags which fell sheer into the breakers.
    â€˜Along here, was it, sonny?’ Griffith asked one of the little boys. He was the elder of the two, a carrotty-haired child of about seven.
    â€˜Yes, a bit farther on. I’ll show you,’ chirped the boy. He pranced ahead, the other one racing after him, afraid to be left out of the limelight.
    They stopped at the edge of a little ravine and waited for the grown-ups to come.
    The first lad pointed across at the other side of the little valley.
    â€˜There it is, sir. That hole in the ground.’
    Peter and Wynne looked blankly at the other side.
    â€˜I can’t see anything. Can you?’ asked the doctor.
    All that was visible on the further bank were some gorse bushes and a few stony outcrops.
    â€˜I’ll show you,’ yelled the red-haired boy and charged down into the gully, his legs going like pistons to keep up with his headlong flight. A scraggy sheep stampeded blindly from his path and some gulls rose, screaming abuse into the blue sky.
    â€˜Here it is, Dad!’ yelled the boy. He appeared to be pointing at an outcrop of grey stone; but, as the adults moved nearer, Peter could see that a patch of ferns and stunted gorse hid the opening of a shaft, which faced out to sea.
    A crude ramp, overgrown and crumbling, led to the mouth and the men climbed up to join the two boys.
    â€˜It was in here, Dad,’ said the elder.
    â€˜I found it first, honest,’ yelled the little one, determined not to be outdone.
    John Ellis-Morgan peered into the dark hole.
    â€˜It’s a lead mine all right, not a natural cave. I’ve been in a few of them up here in my younger days; but I never remember seeing this one before.’
    â€˜I’m not surprised,’ commented Peter. ‘The opening faces the cliff. So, unless you happen to be a seagull, you would be hardly likely to notice it.’
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