cease-fire was duly observed for a further few minutes, whilst the proper commiserations were expressed. It was only when he produced the letter from Valerie that Morse's manner appeared to Lewis to become strangely abrasive.
Phillipson read through the letter quickly.
'Well?' said Morse.
Lewis felt that the headmaster was more surprised by the sharp tone in the inspector's voice than by the arrival of a letter from his troublesome, long-lost ex-pupil.
'Well what?' Phillipson clearly was not a man easily bullied.
'Is it her writing?'
'I can't tell. Don't her parents know?'
Morse ignored the question. 'You can't tell me.' The statement was flat and final, with the tacit implication that he had expected something better.
'No.'
'Have you got some of her old exercise books we could look at?'
'I don' t really know, Inspector.'
'Who would know?' Again the astringent impatience in his voice.
'Perhaps Baines would.'
'Ask him in, please,' snapped Morse.
'I'm sorry, Inspector, but Baines has this afternoon off. Tuesday is games afternoon and . . .'
'I know, yes. So Baines can't help us either. Who can?'
Phillipson got up and opened the study door. 'Mrs. Webb? Will you come in here a minute, please.'
Was Lewis mistaken, or did she throw a rather frightened glance in Morse's direction?
'Mrs. Webb, the inspector here wonders if any of Valerie Taylor's old exercise books may have been kept somewhere in the school. What do you think?'
'They may be in the store-room, I suppose, sir.'
'Would it be the usual practice for pupils themselves to keep them?' Morse addressed himself directly to the secretary.
'Yes, it would. But in this case I should think her desk would have been turned out at the end of term and the books would be . . .' She was getting lost and looked helplessly towards the headmaster.
'I'm sure Mrs. Webb is right, Inspector. If the books are anywhere, they will be in the store-room.'
Mrs. Webb nodded, swallowed hard and was given leave to withdraw.
'We'd better have a look in the store-room, then. You've no objections?'
'Of course not. But it's in a bit of a mess, I should think. You know how things are at the beginning of term.'
Morse smiled weakly and neither confirmed nor refuted his knowledge of such matters.
They walked along the corridor, down some steps, and turned off right through a classroom, wherein all the chairs were neatly placed upon the tops of the desks. The school was virtually deserted, but intermittent shrieks of joyous laughter from the direction of the sports field seemed to belie the view that games were too unpopular with the majority of pupils.
The headmaster unlocked the door to the large unwindowed, unventilated store-room, and when the three men entered Lewis found himself facing with some foreboding the piles of dusty textbooks, files and stationery.
'I'm afraid it may be a longish job,' said Phillipson, with some irritation in his voice. 'If you like, I could get some of the staff to go through all the old exercise books here.' He pointed vaguely to great piles of books stacked on wooden shelves along the far wall.
'That's very kind of you, headmaster, but we can deal with this all right. No problem. If we can call back to your office when we've finished here?' It was an unmistakable hint that the presence of the headmaster would not profit the present stage of the investigation, and Morse listened carefully as Phillipson retraced his steps to his study. 'He's a bit worried, wouldn't you say, Lewis?'
'I don't blame him, sir. You've been pretty sharp with him.'
'Serve him right,' said Morse.
'What's he done wrong?'
'I spoke to him on the phone this morning and he said he was interviewing some new pupils.'
'Perhaps he was,' suggested the honest Lewis.
'I had the feeling he didn't want to talk just then, and I was right.'
Phillipson read through the letter quickly.
'Well?' said Morse.
Lewis felt that the headmaster was more surprised by the sharp tone in the inspector's voice than by the arrival of a letter from his troublesome, long-lost ex-pupil.
'Well what?' Phillipson clearly was not a man easily bullied.
'Is it her writing?'
'I can't tell. Don't her parents know?'
Morse ignored the question. 'You can't tell me.' The statement was flat and final, with the tacit implication that he had expected something better.
'No.'
'Have you got some of her old exercise books we could look at?'
'I don' t really know, Inspector.'
'Who would know?' Again the astringent impatience in his voice.
'Perhaps Baines would.'
'Ask him in, please,' snapped Morse.
'I'm sorry, Inspector, but Baines has this afternoon off. Tuesday is games afternoon and . . .'
'I know, yes. So Baines can't help us either. Who can?'
Phillipson got up and opened the study door. 'Mrs. Webb? Will you come in here a minute, please.'
Was Lewis mistaken, or did she throw a rather frightened glance in Morse's direction?
'Mrs. Webb, the inspector here wonders if any of Valerie Taylor's old exercise books may have been kept somewhere in the school. What do you think?'
'They may be in the store-room, I suppose, sir.'
'Would it be the usual practice for pupils themselves to keep them?' Morse addressed himself directly to the secretary.
'Yes, it would. But in this case I should think her desk would have been turned out at the end of term and the books would be . . .' She was getting lost and looked helplessly towards the headmaster.
'I'm sure Mrs. Webb is right, Inspector. If the books are anywhere, they will be in the store-room.'
Mrs. Webb nodded, swallowed hard and was given leave to withdraw.
'We'd better have a look in the store-room, then. You've no objections?'
'Of course not. But it's in a bit of a mess, I should think. You know how things are at the beginning of term.'
Morse smiled weakly and neither confirmed nor refuted his knowledge of such matters.
They walked along the corridor, down some steps, and turned off right through a classroom, wherein all the chairs were neatly placed upon the tops of the desks. The school was virtually deserted, but intermittent shrieks of joyous laughter from the direction of the sports field seemed to belie the view that games were too unpopular with the majority of pupils.
The headmaster unlocked the door to the large unwindowed, unventilated store-room, and when the three men entered Lewis found himself facing with some foreboding the piles of dusty textbooks, files and stationery.
'I'm afraid it may be a longish job,' said Phillipson, with some irritation in his voice. 'If you like, I could get some of the staff to go through all the old exercise books here.' He pointed vaguely to great piles of books stacked on wooden shelves along the far wall.
'That's very kind of you, headmaster, but we can deal with this all right. No problem. If we can call back to your office when we've finished here?' It was an unmistakable hint that the presence of the headmaster would not profit the present stage of the investigation, and Morse listened carefully as Phillipson retraced his steps to his study. 'He's a bit worried, wouldn't you say, Lewis?'
'I don't blame him, sir. You've been pretty sharp with him.'
'Serve him right,' said Morse.
'What's he done wrong?'
'I spoke to him on the phone this morning and he said he was interviewing some new pupils.'
'Perhaps he was,' suggested the honest Lewis.
'I had the feeling he didn't want to talk just then, and I was right.'
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