"I found that out," Margaret said. "You don't know how it worried me."
"Did it? I'm sorry." He smiled down at her, and Celia caught her husband's eye significantly. "I drew a blank, except that I found someone had tried to buy the place. I next got on to Wilkes."
"Yes, what made you suspect him?" Peter asked. "Was it that electric-plant of his?"
"Not at first. It was just one little thing after another. I found that when you traced all the Priory ghost stories back they generally came from the same source: Wilkes. The very day you arrived' - he nodded at Charles - 'Wilkes spun a very fine yarn about having seen the Monk. I don't know if you remember, but Fripp was in the bar at the time, and he recounted the whole story to me. It was a good story I thought, and there was only one flaw. Wilkes couldn't be content to confine himself to eerie feelings and shadowy figures: he had to strain after an effect, which he doubtless thought very terrifying, and say he saw the Monk standing behind him. And he then committed the crowning error of saying the Monk just vanished into thin air. That was going a bit too far, and it set me on to his tracks. Then there was Duval. He used to come every day to the Bell, and he wasn't exactly the sort of customer a landlord of Wilkes' type encourages as a general rule. When he was drunk he got talkative, and rather abusive, but so far from throwing him out Wilkes always seemed anxious to humour him. The electric light plant I couldn't get a glimpse offor quite some time, but one thing I did see: Nearly every night, at opening-time, most of the village turns up at the Bell, as you probably know. They're in and out the whole evening; and the bar's usually pretty full. I kept a watch on the various habitues, and I noticed that two of the men who went in I never saw come out again. Moreover, Wilkes was never visible in the early morning, and it looked very much as though he was in the habit of keeping remarkably late hours. That gave me the idea that there might be a way down to the underground passage from the Inn. As you know, the Bell is very old, and it may well have been some sort of an annexe to the original monastery. The difficulty was to locate this possible entrance, and that's not an easy matter in a public inn. You never know whom you'll run into if you start prowling about. However, I got a chance to go down into the cellars unperceived yesterday, and I seized it. It's full of bins, and I managed to hide myself successfully. It was one of the most uncomfortable evenings I ever spent, for once down I didn't dare come up again till I'd discovered all I hoped to. I saw Wilkes, Spindle and two other men come down soon after closing time, and I watched them shift a big cask that stood on top of the trap-door. All but Spindle went down, and when he had replaced the cask over the trap, Spindle went off again. He's obviously the look-out man. The night Duval was murdered, and you came to the Bell, Malcolm - do you remember what a time it took for Wilkes to materialise?"
"I do indeed," Charles said.
"Spindle, didn't go upstairs to wake him. He nipped down the back stairs, gave the signal that would summon Wilkes - there's an electric bell just inside the trap door, by the way - and nipped up again. Wilkes came hurrying back, went up the back stairs, and came down the front fully dressed. You thought that was what had taken him so long.
"But I'm wandering from the point. Where was I?"
"Behind a beer-barrel," said Charles. "Come to think of it, you might have chosen a worse hiding-place. Go on."
"I wish I'd thought of that earlier," Michael said. "I thought it a rotten spot. I stayed there till about four o'clock when Wilkes and Co returned. Still, I was repaid, for the two strangers were full of something that had happened. Evidently they hadn't been able to give vent to their feelings down below, and they meant to talk it all over with Wilkes before they left the Inn. Duval was mentioned, and apparently neither of them had the smallest doubt that the Monk had done him in. They were in a great way about that, partly out of fear of the Monk, partly because they thought Duval's death would bring the police down on them. Then one of them said that it wasn't that so much as "what's happened tonight." They both agreed about that, and the other one said that it was too thick, and he wouldn't be a party to murder. Wilkes tried to soothe him by saying there'd be no murder, but it was plain that the milder one of the pair wasn't satisfied. He kept on saying that he wouldn't stand for it, until the other one turned on him and told him to go and tell the Monk so if he dared. He replied if he knew who the Monk was, he would, and be damned to the lot of them, and then they both roundedd on Wilkes, and accused him of knowing the Monk's identity. The ferocious one said that it was his belief Duval had found "where the Monk goes," and he'd half a mind to have a shot at doing the same thing. Wilkes managed to pacify him, and I learned from what he said that the Monk meant to clear out as "soon as the run's finished," things having got suddenly dangerous. That was you, of course, but I didn't know that at the time. After a bit more palaver they all cleared out, and as soon as I dared I went up to my room, ascertained that Wilkes had gone to bed, got hold of Fripp and a perfectly good disguise - hired from Clarkson's, by the way - and went down to see what I could discover. The rest you know." He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. "Tomlinson ought to be arriving at any moment now, and as soon as he comes I want to investigate the rest of that staircase."
"I never heard such a thrilling tale in my life!" Celia said. "And you can say what you please, but I think you're a pretty clever detective!"