want to see where it happened, I'll take you to the place."
10
It was twelve o'clock by the time Mrs Troughton had been convinced of the theft. Despite Tom's insistence that the churchyard desecrators had dug at the precise edge of the trench where the missing arm of the cross would have been, she was resolved to check this for herself. To this end, Mr Purdew had been summoned, his cigarette drooping more dejectedly than ever, and the earth around the roots of the suffering yew tree had been scraped clear for a further foot in every direction. Nothing was found, and, at the warden's behest, the roots were covered over again. There followed a dismal half hour in which Tom was sandwiched between police constable and archaeologist, discussing the crime from every possible angle. Mrs Troughton, who was in a wild state of fury, took immediate exception to Tom's comment that such a theft was inexplicable.
"You do realise," she said, glaring through glasses in Tom's direction, "that this cross is utterly unique. It is clearly of very early Christian date, and may represent a fusion of Saxon and Celtic art unlike anything found before. Who knows, vicar – your little church may stand on a truly ancient site! For even a fraction of the cross to be stolen is an absolute tragedy, and may stop us from decyphering the primitive symbolism on its carvings!"
"There's no firm proof that the missing piece was ever down there," Tom said. "But even if it was, the bulk of the cross has not been touched, and will still be a monument to the early Church. I just don't understand why anyone should try to steal the one arm. Why not take the rest as well?"
"It was too heavy," said PC Vernon, and wrote this down in his book.
"Obviously," said Mrs Troughton.
"But why bother scrabbling round in the dirt in the middle of the night just to pinch a piece of stone, which must itself have been too heavy for anyone to lift without help?"
"Maybe," said PC Vernon, "they're going to ransom it."
Tom didn't know quite how to answer this, though in fact he thought it wasn't such a stupid idea. It was better than any of his own, which were laced with confusion. His head was awhirl with disordered objections to the events of the morning. Even if a ransom was farfetched, there was no other conceivable explanation for the theft, except plain malice. But malice would have led to vandalism, and the rest of the cross had not been touched. And what was all the scorching in the trench? You didn't use a welding torch to shift earth. Tom gave up. It made no sense.
By the time Mrs Troughton had made an ill-tempered departure, Tom was unable to string a coherent thought together. His mood was not improved by the arrival of Mrs Gabriel in his office to complain about the further desecration.
"It's your example they're following," she said, "and thank you no I won't sit down. You started this, vicar, and who knows if there isn't worse to come. Already they've breached the church!"
Tom sighed; to his ears came the accusing sound of Mr Purdew's workmen, mending the door.
"To move the cross!" Mrs Gabriel shook her head at the thought. "Maybe it was there for a reason, did you think of that?"
"Mrs Gabriel, you do not go round burying crosses six feet underground for a reason. And even if someone did, it's been there for hundreds of years and it's time it was found and restored. The people of this day and age would like to see it and enjoy it. They can get spiritual comfort from its antiquity."
"For some people the splitting of the cross would give greater comfort," said Mrs Gabriel. Tom frowned with bewilderment.
"What do you mean? The cross was already split," he said.
"Maybe, but now it's split and separated," said Mrs Gabriel, with firm conviction. Tom felt he was missing something.
"I know it is a great shame, and was a wicked act to steal this relic," he said, "but Mrs Gabriel, we still have most of the cross, and can raise it in the churchyard. It won't be
10
It was twelve o'clock by the time Mrs Troughton had been convinced of the theft. Despite Tom's insistence that the churchyard desecrators had dug at the precise edge of the trench where the missing arm of the cross would have been, she was resolved to check this for herself. To this end, Mr Purdew had been summoned, his cigarette drooping more dejectedly than ever, and the earth around the roots of the suffering yew tree had been scraped clear for a further foot in every direction. Nothing was found, and, at the warden's behest, the roots were covered over again. There followed a dismal half hour in which Tom was sandwiched between police constable and archaeologist, discussing the crime from every possible angle. Mrs Troughton, who was in a wild state of fury, took immediate exception to Tom's comment that such a theft was inexplicable.
"You do realise," she said, glaring through glasses in Tom's direction, "that this cross is utterly unique. It is clearly of very early Christian date, and may represent a fusion of Saxon and Celtic art unlike anything found before. Who knows, vicar – your little church may stand on a truly ancient site! For even a fraction of the cross to be stolen is an absolute tragedy, and may stop us from decyphering the primitive symbolism on its carvings!"
"There's no firm proof that the missing piece was ever down there," Tom said. "But even if it was, the bulk of the cross has not been touched, and will still be a monument to the early Church. I just don't understand why anyone should try to steal the one arm. Why not take the rest as well?"
"It was too heavy," said PC Vernon, and wrote this down in his book.
"Obviously," said Mrs Troughton.
"But why bother scrabbling round in the dirt in the middle of the night just to pinch a piece of stone, which must itself have been too heavy for anyone to lift without help?"
"Maybe," said PC Vernon, "they're going to ransom it."
Tom didn't know quite how to answer this, though in fact he thought it wasn't such a stupid idea. It was better than any of his own, which were laced with confusion. His head was awhirl with disordered objections to the events of the morning. Even if a ransom was farfetched, there was no other conceivable explanation for the theft, except plain malice. But malice would have led to vandalism, and the rest of the cross had not been touched. And what was all the scorching in the trench? You didn't use a welding torch to shift earth. Tom gave up. It made no sense.
By the time Mrs Troughton had made an ill-tempered departure, Tom was unable to string a coherent thought together. His mood was not improved by the arrival of Mrs Gabriel in his office to complain about the further desecration.
"It's your example they're following," she said, "and thank you no I won't sit down. You started this, vicar, and who knows if there isn't worse to come. Already they've breached the church!"
Tom sighed; to his ears came the accusing sound of Mr Purdew's workmen, mending the door.
"To move the cross!" Mrs Gabriel shook her head at the thought. "Maybe it was there for a reason, did you think of that?"
"Mrs Gabriel, you do not go round burying crosses six feet underground for a reason. And even if someone did, it's been there for hundreds of years and it's time it was found and restored. The people of this day and age would like to see it and enjoy it. They can get spiritual comfort from its antiquity."
"For some people the splitting of the cross would give greater comfort," said Mrs Gabriel. Tom frowned with bewilderment.
"What do you mean? The cross was already split," he said.
"Maybe, but now it's split and separated," said Mrs Gabriel, with firm conviction. Tom felt he was missing something.
"I know it is a great shame, and was a wicked act to steal this relic," he said, "but Mrs Gabriel, we still have most of the cross, and can raise it in the churchyard. It won't be
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