An extract from The Coming Day
Francis and Gordon Jones are youth hostelling in Cornwall, when they are approached for help by the local police in search of a missing girl
It was 9.50 and moonlight by the time the boys wearily wheeled their bicycles into the grounds of the hostel.
‘Ten minutes later and we’d be sleeping in the hedge,’ said Gordon, who had studied the Youth Hostel Handbook assiduously. ‘Then we’d be in hot water with Mr Tethers.’
‘It looks as if someone’s in hot water already,’ said Francis. The Wolseley police car had spread itself ominously across the front entrance. ‘Someone’s probably complained about your attempt at community singing.’
‘Well, what time do you call this?’
Mr Tethers wasn’t quite in his pyjamas but looked as if the responsibility of keeping track of thirty parent-free boys on the loose in Cornwall had exhausted him.
‘You two’ll be the death of me. I was about to set up a search party. Get your bikes put away and come in. You’re wanted by the police.’
Once inside, Mr Tethers looked them up and down, straightened Gordon’s collar and took them into the warden’s office where a tall, well-dressed man in a blue serge suit was sitting, his fingers steepled as if in deep thought.
‘This is Francis and Gordon, sir,’ said Mr Tethers. ‘Despite appearances to the contrary, they’re quite harmless. Shall I fix us some cocoa?’ He gave the boys what Francis described as ‘a look’ and hissed ‘Chief Superintendent Scott, C.I.D.’ at them as he left the room. The man in the serge suit beamed at them.
‘Nothing to worry about, lads, but I am here on official business. I’ve been in contact with the Norfolk constabulary who put me on to Inspector Slaughter. He told me you were on this school trip, and recommended that I have a word with you.’
Gordon’s eyes almost popped out of his head.
‘Inspector Slaughter recommended us?’
‘Well, perhaps that’s not quite the right word. When I mentioned your names he had a choking fit.’
‘And turned a nasty colour too, I should think,’ added Gordon.
‘Constabularies are trying to cooperate with one another much more nowadays. We’ve had a girl reported as missing for several days. Of course there’s dozens who go missing every year. Most of them turn up safe and sound eventually, but this one hasn’t, and there’s been a lot of bad publicity, and the public complaining that nothing’s been done about finding her. Her name’s Mary Shepstone, aged eighteen. Last seen leaving her place of work, Morthingtons Laundry, two weeks ago. She lived with her aunt and uncle.’
‘How dreadful,’ said Francis. ‘Surely someone must have an idea where she is? Had she a boyfriend?’
‘Not according to her parents. She was a quiet girl, by all accounts. Her sudden disappearance is completely out of character.’
Francis sighed deeply if unconvincingly. ‘I don’t see how this concerns us, sir.’
Superintendent Scott didn’t believe Francis for a moment. The boy knew exactly what was coming.
‘I read about you two likely lads in the Daily Sketch.’
‘Yes,’ said Francis, ‘I’m afraid we are occasionally mentioned in the popular press.’
‘It was the Mallingering Affair, if I remember correctly. It stayed in my mind as a classic solving of a Missing Persons case.’
‘The Mallingering Affair? I don’t recall it,’ said Francis with a faraway look. ‘Do you recall it, Gordon?’
‘Of course I do,’ said Gordon, knowing that Francis remembered it perfectly well too! How irritating Francis was when he came over all Sherlock Holmes and treated Gordon as if he were Dr Watson.
‘I believe the case involved the Crown Prince of Narpithhia?’ said Scott.
‘That’s right, sir’ replied Gordon. ‘He was abducted and kept prisoner, and attempts were made to smuggle another boy, Toby Mallingering, out of the country disguised as His Highness.’
‘Of course, ‘ said Francis. ‘Now it comes back to me. My suspicions were aroused when I discovered that the Crown Prince’s equerry had bought a tin of Dark Tan Cherry Blossom Boot Polish. His Highness only ever wore black shoes, you see, patent. Why would his equerry need a tin of Dark Tan? Obviously, to change the appearance of the severely anaemic Toby Mallingering so that he would pass for the dusky-skinned Crown Prince.’
‘Thus solving a most puzzling case!’ cried the Superintendent.
‘Not to mention at the same time averting civil war in Narpitthia,’ said Francis, who had no intention of not mentioning it.
‘The long and short of it is,’ said the Superintendent, ‘that we want you boys to give us any assistance you can to discover what has happened to Marie Shepstone.’
‘We’re only here for two days,’ said Gordon. ‘Youth hostel regulations forbid any extension.’
‘You needn’t worry about that. Your school has been informed, and the Youth Hostel HQ has given you special dispensation to stay here as long as you wish. Naturally, we don’t want to spoil your holiday. If you would rather devote yourself to your Youth Hostel holiday, and move on with the rest of your school to the next hostel as arranged, we shall perfectly understand.’
Mr Tethers returned with the cocoa. It was lukewarm and a thick skin had formed on its surface. The lugubrious voice of the warden called ‘Lights Out!’ from some crevice of the building. From even deeper within came the morbidly sad refrain of someone attempting to cheer things up with yet another chorus of ‘Ging Gang Goolie’.
‘We shall need a few more details,’ said Francis.
