Until they were clear of the village again, Sir Clinton made no attempt to extract any further information; but when the car crossed the neck at Flatt's cottage and was running beside the bay, he slowed down and turned to Fordingbridge.
“There's a point you might be able to throw light on, Mr. Fordingbridge,” he said tentatively. “Quite obviously, Staveley was supposed to have been killed in the war. Could you give me any information about his earlier history? You came in contact with him at times, I understand.”
Paul Fordingbridge seemed in no way put out by the request.
“I can tell you all I know about the fellow easily enough,” he answered readily. “You'll have to go elsewhere for any real information about his past; but, so far as I'm concerned, I met him here. My nephew, Derek, brought him home to spend his leave with us at Foxhills. That was in 1916. In the spring of '17, he was slightly wounded; and we asked him down again to stay with us when he was convalescent. He married my niece in April 1917. The marriage wasn't a success—quite the other thing. The fellow was a scoundrel of the worst brand. In September 1917 we learned privately that he had got into the black books of the military authorities; and my private impression—it's only that, for I really don't know—my private impression was that he ran the risk of a firing-party. What I heard was a rumour that he'd been given a chance to rehabilitate himself in the field. There was a big attack being mounted at the moment, and he was sent in with the rest. That was the last we heard of him. After the attack, he was posted as missing; and a while later still the War Office returned some of his things to my niece. It seems they'd found a body with his identity disc on it. Naturally we were relieved.”
He halted for a moment; then, seeming to feel that he had put the matter in an unnecessarily callous way, he added:
“He was a thoroughly bad lot, you understand? I caught him once trying to forge my name to a cheque for a good round figure.”
Sir Clinton nodded his thanks for the information.
“Then I suppose one has to assume that in some way or other he managed to escape, after exchanging identity discs with somebody who was really killed,” he suggested. “It's not difficult to see how that could be done.”
Wendover interposed.
“More difficult than it looks at first sight, Clinton. How do you imagine that he could conceal himself after the battle? He'd have to give some account of himself then.”