‘ “Tis the strumpet’s plague, To beguile many and be beguiled by one,” ’ Joe murmured. ‘I think there was more to it than the knowledge that he’d deceived her in the matter of the gun-running.’

‘Ah, yes, Sandilands, your theory that there was some romantic alliance between those two? I hear no evidence of that from any other quarter but it wouldn’t surprise me. Nasty piece of work, Rheza Khan, though quite seductive I would have thought.’

Edgar Troop poured himself a further glass of wine and passed the decanter to Charlie Carter. ‘I don’t believe it,’ he said. ‘I don’t believe that Alice was romantically interested in Rheza Khan. In fact I’ll go further – I don’t think she was interested in men at all.’

‘Are you perhaps obliquely telling us that on some occasion or occasions unspecified you found her inappropriately uninterested in you? Now, Joe, perhaps you have something to add to this debate? Very taking little thing, Alice.’

‘I pass,’ said Joe.

Sir George’s generous grey eyebrows rose in query. ‘The deputy police superintendent passes! We must return to you, Edgar, for further illumination.’

‘I believe,’ said Edgar Troop shaking his head, “she had many admirers. And, yes, all right, I’ll agree, myself amongst them.‘ He turned to Joe. ‘Yourself amongst them too possibly, Sandilands?’

‘All right,’ said Sir George, ‘since this seems to be the fashion, I will add myself to this list. But, to get a dispassionate view, Carter, since you seem to be the only man in Simla proof to her charms – what have you to say on this subject?’

‘I agree with Edgar. The only person she was at ease with in Simla, the only person she did not deceive and manipulate, was her friend Marie-Jeanne Pitiot.’

‘Are you suggesting…?’ The eyebrows rose again.

‘I think I have an insight into that particular relationship,’ said Joe. ‘When we were staging the seance routine I remember Minerva Freemantle saying that Alice returned week after week in the hope of contacting her mother. Alice herself told me that her mother had died when she was eleven, leaving her to be brought up by her cold, uncaring and ambitious father. The first in a long line of men to betray and abuse her. Marie-Jeanne is much older than Alice – I think she sees her as a mother-replacement. Perhaps the only person in India or the world that she can truly trust. And since Alice has totally disappeared I would think it sensible to keep a watch on Marie-Jeanne because it is to her that Alice will go, I think, to find shelter.’

Charlie Carter added eagerly, ‘That’s taken care of, Sir George. I have had men posted outside her house for the last three days and I have had the house and her warehouse searched.’

‘Your stable-door-shutting techniques are second to none,’ Sir George said. ‘And what does Marie-Jeanne have to say about all this? I assume that you have interviewed her?’

‘Seems to have nothing to hide – well, we know she hasn’t because the search was pretty thorough. Says she hasn’t seen Alice for at least a week. She wanted to know if we were keeping her a prisoner, surrounding her house with troops, and gave us notice that she’s intending to leave Simla tomorrow. She has a long-standing engagement in Bombay and has booked her ticket. She said she wouldn’t object if a policeman accompanied her if I wanted to send one along. I think she was being ironic, sir.’

Clever, confident Marie-Jeanne. Helpful on the surface, Joe thought but, given her strong loyalties to Alice, surely she would make some attempt to help her friend? Joe decided that there was one more call he should make before his time in Simla was up.

Sir George sighed. ‘Go on, Carter, tell us what other steps you have taken to trail after your light-footed quarry.’

Businesslike, Carter replied, ‘Alice has two ways of getting out of the country. On the narrow gauge rail from Joginder Nagar and on to Amritsar or doubling back to Simla and getting out in a tonga or the Toy Train to Kalka and on to Delhi.’

‘Was there no sign of her on the Simla road when you came hot-footing it to the rescue up the mountain?’

‘No, sir. But it would have been very easy for her to hide herself along the route when she caught sight of the patrol.’

‘Yes,’ drawled Sir George, ‘well, you were certainly visible. From miles away, I should think. A squadron of Bengal Lancers, Slater’s Horse I believe, armed to the teeth and clattering along in the dark preceded by a dozen flare carriers and, if I know anything about those popinjays in Slater’s, singing the Eton Boating Song! Yes, she’d have seen you coming. So she could by now, three full days after the drama, be safely back and hiding in Simla or anywhere else for that matter. What about the other exit?’

‘All passengers taking the train from Joginder Nagar have their identity checked, sir. So far no European woman has tried to get on the train.’ He passed a list of passengers to Sir George.

‘And what about the exits from Simla?’

‘They likewise are being watched. The papers of every passenger are checked both in Simla and Kalka. I have men stationed on the tonga road and they too check all passengers. So far nothing.’ He passed over another list. ‘Not many leaving Simla of course at this time of year which makes our job easy. Mostly people are flooding in.’

Sir George inspected the list. ‘Mmm… six tax-inspectors, five opium smugglers, four French nuns, three box-wallahs, two brigadiers,’ he paraphrased, ‘but no partridge in this pear tree. Keep shaking the branches, Carter!’

‘Doesn’t surprise me,’ said Edgar Troop suddenly grim. ‘You’re looking in the wrong place. She had two more hours of daylight when she rode off into the wilderness. Not long enough to reach any civilized part or even shelter. She would have been riding a tired horse through dangerous country whichever route she took. Bandits… wild animals… rough terrain. Wouldn’t care to do it alone myself, even armed to the teeth. Alice didn’t have a rifle with her – she only had her little pop-gun. Wouldn’t scare off a monkey let alone a leopard. So, the other chance which none of you has mentioned is that Alice may be dead!’ He looked from one to the other and suddenly his large red face was haggard in the candlelight. ‘She may well be dead,’ he repeated. ‘Can’t think why you don’t all acknowledge it.’

There was a moment’s silence as all did acknowledge it.

‘Hmm,’ said Sir George. ‘If so –

‘Now boast thee, Death,

In thy possession lies

A lass unparalleled.’

Chapter Twenty-eight

«^»

Summer 1922

In the moment of waking, Joe Sandilands could not work out where he was. A distant and regular underfloor throb accompanied by the cry of a passing sea-bird told him that he was on board a ship. But what ship and why he could not for the moment decide. A dazzle of sunshine reflected in the ceiling a few feet above his face told him that it was early morning, the breakfast tray at his elbow – a dish of croissants and a white china coffee pot – reminded him at last that he was on one of the few remaining French liners which ran from Bombay to Marseilles. A slight but insistent headache reminded him that, celebrating his escape from the confusions of crime-prevention in India, he’d had too much to drink the night before.

He was glad to be on a French boat. P&O were grand and formal but French boats were domestic, comfortable and informal. Furthermore, not many English people travelled this way and, in all the circumstances, on his present journey Joe was glad of the anonymity until, from Marseilles, he could run straight home to England by train and into the safe and predictable confines of his regular London life. ‘I’ve had enough India,’ he’d said to himself. ‘Yes, definitely enough India.’ He searched his mind. Any regrets? He found he was delighted – relieved and delighted – to be out of the shade of George’s umbrella. ‘Another month and I’d have become a performing poodle at the Residence!’ He spared a moment to think of Charlie Carter. ‘The Good Centurion’ he decided. ‘A bon copain if ever I had one. Could we have worked on together? Years of steady police work in the sun?’ It was for a moment a tempting thought. But at the last, London beckoned. ‘Okay. That’s it. Charlie’ll be okay.’