Footsteps in the Dark

by Georgette Heyer

"You would have him," Charles reminded her. "You despised our efforts, and now that you've got a trained sleuth on to the job you're no better pleased."

"What I'd really like," Celia said, "and what I always had in mind was a detective, not an ordinary policeman."

"You don't appreciate friend Flinders," Peter told her. "He may not be quick, but he's thorough. Why, he even inspected the bathroom, didn't he?"

"That's right," said Charles. "Dogged does it is Henry's watchword. He won't leave a mouse-hole undisturbed. You wait till he comes down our chimney one night to see if it can be done, before you judge him."

But during the next two days, as fresh evidence of the constable's devotion to duty was continually forthcoming, he became even less popular. On the first day of his watch, Jane, the housemaid, was with difficulty persuaded to rescind her "notice," which she promptly gave on discerning the constable crouched under a rhododendron bush. She was on her way home, soon after sundown, and this unnerving sight induced her to give way to a strong fit of hysterics under the drawingroom window. Celia and Peter rushed out in time to witness the aghast constable endeavouring to reassure Jane, while Mrs. Bowers, first upon the scene, divided her attention between scolding the distraught damsel, and predicting the future that awaited those who could find nothing better to do than to frighten silly girls out of their wits.

When Constable Flinders had stumbled over a cucumber-frame in the dark, and smashed two panes of glass with the maximum noise, got himself locked in the gardener's shed by mistake, and arrested Charles on his return from a game of billiards with Colonel Ackerley, it was unanimously agreed that his energy should be gently but firmly diverted. In spite of his incorrigible habit of doing the wrong thing they had all of them developed quite an affection for the constable, and it was with great tact that Peter suggested that a watch on the Priory was useless, and that Mr. Flinders would do well to turn his attention to the possible suspects.

The constable, whom only the strongest sense of duty induced to patrol the dread Priory after dark, was not at all hurt, but on the contrary much relieved at being dismissed from his heroic task, and thereafter the Priory saw him no more. Celia, who had been the bitterest in denunciation of his folly, even confessed to missing him. During his guard he had been quite useful in giving her horticultural advice and he had very kindly weeded three of the flower-beds for her, incidentally rooting up a cherished cutting of hydrangea, which he assured her would never flourish in such a spot.

It was not long, however, before they heard of Mr. Flinders' new activities, for Charles encountered Mr. Titmarsh in the village street, and Mr. Titmarsh, catching sight of the constable some way off, remarked fretfully that he did not know what had come over the fellow.

With a wonderful air of blandness Charles inquired the reason of this sudden remark. Mr. Titmarsh said with asperity that the constable was apparently running after his parlour-maid, since he was forever stumbling over him, either waiting by the gate or prowling round the house. "And apparently," said Mr. Titmarsh, "he thinks it necessary to enlist my sympathy by exhibiting a wholly untutored interest in my hobby. He has taken to bringing me common specimens- for my opinion, and last night when I was out with my net I found the man following me. Most irritating performance, and I fear I spoke a little roughly to him. However, it seems he is genuinely anxious to observe the methods I employ, and really it is of no use to lose one's temper with such a simple fellow."

When this was recounted to the others it afforded them considerable amusement, but when Peter said: "I never met such an ass in my life," Charles reproved him. "He's doing well," he said, selecting a walnut from the dish. "Much better than I expected. I admit his Boy Scout stunts are a little obvious, but look at his ready wit! When old Titmarsh discovered him in ambush, did his presence of mind desert him? Not at all. He said he wanted to look for moths too. That's what I call masterly."