The Case of the Late Pig

I hesitated. Leo is not one of the great brains of the earth, but I could hardly believe that he had dragged me down from London to confirm his suspicion that Pig had died from a bang on the head. I took it that there was more to come — and there was, of course; no end of it, as it turned out.

Leo stubbed a bony forefinger into my shoulder.

'Like to have a talk with you, my boy,' he said. 'One or two private matters to discuss. Have to come out some time. We ought to go down to Halt Knights and have a look at things.'

The light began to filter in.

'Was P — was Harris killed at Halt Knights?'

Leo nodded. 'Poor Poppy! Decent little woman, you know, Campion. Never a suspicion of — er — anything of this sort before.'

'I should hope not,' I said, scandalized, and he frowned at me.

'Some of these country clubs — ' he began darkly.

'Not murder,' I said firmly and he relapsed into despondency.

'Perhaps you're right,' he agreed. 'Let's go down there. Drop in for a drink before dinner.'

As we went out to the car I considered the business. To understand Halt Knights is to know Kepesake, and Kepesake is a sort of county paradise. It's a big village, just far enough from a town and a main road to remain exclusive without having to be silly about it. It has a Norman church, a village cricket green with elms, three magnificent pubs and a population of genuine country folk of proper independent views. It lies in a gentle valley on the shores of an estuary and is protected by a ring of modest little estates all owned by dear good fellers, so Leo says. The largest of these estates is Halt Knights.

At one period there was a nobleman at the Knights who owned the whole village, which had been left him by an ancestress who had had it, so the name would suggest, from a boy friend off to the Crusades. Changing times and incomes drove out the nobleman and his heirs; hence the smaller estates.

The house and some nine hundred acres of meadow and salting remained a millstone round somebody's neck until Poppy Bellew retired from the stage and, buying it up, transformed that part of it which had not collapsed into the finest hotel and country pub in the kingdom.

Being a naturally expansive person of untiring energy, she did not let the nine hundred acres worry her but laid down an eighteen hole golf course and reserved the rest for anything anyone might think of. It occurred to some intelligent person that there was a very fine point-to-point course there somewhere and at the time Pig got the urn on his head there had been four meetings there in each of five consecutive springs.

It was all very lazy and homely and comfortable. If anyone who looked as if he might spoil the atmosphere came along somehow Poppy lost him. It was really very simple. She wanted to keep open house and the people round about were willing to pay their own expenses, or that was how it seemed to work out.

Leo's story was interesting. I could understand Pig getting himself killed at Halt Knights, but not how he managed to stay there long enough for it to happen.

Meanwhile Leo had reached the car and was looking at Lugg with mistrust. Leo's ideas of discipline are military and Lugg's are not. I foresaw an impasse.

'Ah, Lugg,' I said with forced heartiness, 'I'm going to drive Sir Leo on to Halt Knights. You'd better go back to Highwaters. Take a bus or something.'

Lugg stared at me and I saw rebellion in his eyes. His feet have been a constant source of conversation with him of late.

'A bus?' he echoed, adding 'sir' as a belated afterthought as Leo's eyes fell upon him.

'Yes,' I said foolishly. 'One of those big green things. You must have seen them about.'

He got out of the car heavily and with dignity and so far demeaned himself as to hold the door open for Leo, but me he regarded under fat white eyelids with a secret, contemplative expression.

'Extraordinary feller, your man,' said Leo as we drove off. 'Keep an eye on him, my dear boy. Save your life in the war?'

'Dear me, no!' I said in some astonishment. 'Why?'

He blew his nose. 'I don't know. Thought just crossed my mind. Now to this business, Campion. It's pretty serious and I'll tell you why.' He paused and added so soberly that I started: 'There are at least half a dozen good fellers, including myself, who were in more than half a mind to put that feller out of the way last night. One of us must have lost his head, don't you know. I'm being very frank with you, of course.'

I pulled the car up by the side of the road. We were on the long straight stretch above the 'Dog and Fowl'.

'I'd like to hear about it,' I said.

He came out with it quietly and damningly in his pleasant worried voice. It was an enlightening tale in view of the circumstances.