“Palæontology?”
“Yes, I was already hopelessly addicted to fossils. It is a sort of addiction, Chief Inspector. We may not all be quite as single-mindedly obsessed as Dr. Smith Woodward, but it’s not the sort of job one falls into by chance. You will have realized by now that we’re all dedicated, even passionate about our subject.”
Alec recalled Witt’s words as Tom described the man’s study: “Full of bones and books about bones, Chief, and drawings of bones, and drawings and models of mammoths and such.”
“I reckon they’re all a bit dotty,” said Piper.
Even Ruddlestone, his house crammed full of children and associated paraphernalia, had found space for a few fossils. Yes, they were all dedicated, passionate, perhaps a bit dotty!
12
Ascending the steps far enough to be sheltered by the great rounded arch, Daisy paused to shake out and close her umbrella. It was drizzling again, yesterday’s sunshine forgotten.
At the top of the steps stood a familiar figure, shifting impatiently from foot to foot. Rudolf Maximilian had arrived early at the museum. His long nose touched the glass as he peered through the door into the interior.
Daisy glanced at her watch.Shewas dead on time. A shadowy shape unlocked the central doors as she reached them.
“Good morning, Grand Duke,” she said.
He started, turning. “Ach, it is Miss Dalrymple. Goot morning,gnädiges Fräulein.”He bowed, and rather reluctantly let her enter first.
Sergeant Jameson had unlocked the doors and stayed to hold one open for Daisy. His greeting to her was friendly enough, but his harried gaze was on the Grand Duke behind her. “What’s he want?” he muttered. “His blasted ruby’s gorn, innit.”
“Mine ruby, he is finded?” the Grand Duke demanded.
“Not it, mate. Sir. You sure you haven’t got it at home in a teapot?”
“Teapot? Vhy you talk about teapot? Vhy you not busy mine ruby to find?”
“Not my job, sir, is it? There’s been dozens of men searching all night, and a new lot come on this morning. Just the second floor and the towers to go.”
“I help,” said Rudolf eagerly.
“Not on your nelly you don’t,” exclaimed Sergeant Jameson, but he made no great effort to stop the Grand Duke when he pushed past. “D. I. Wotherspoon’ll put a spoke in his wheel soon enough, or someone else will if he’s dropped off. Poor ole Spoony’s been up all night, but he’s set on seeing it through. And I’ll take it kindly, miss, if you won’t mention what I just called him.”
“I shouldn’t dream of it,” Daisy assured him, hoping that Alec had managed a good sleep last night. She stuck with Jameson as he went to unlock the other doors. “Have they not found anything at all?”
“They think they found the handle the flint was stuck to. Leastways they found a spare handle for a ge‘logical hammer with a splodge of the right kind of glue on it in the right place, and what might be bloodstains. It was in the basement, but they’re all over the place in fossils and minerals both, any road. They all use ’em, so it don’t mean much.”
“And anyway it was probably Dr. Pettigrew’s. No fingerprints on it, I suppose.”
“Nary a one, miss.”
“They haven’t found any skeleton keys?”
“Nor reckon to,” said Jameson, strolling back towards the police post. “The thief’s had plenty of time to get rid of ’em, seeing it could be weeks since the jewels was pinched. Me, I think it was done at night when Dr. Pettigrew was on holiday.
He’d be the most likely to notice some little thing not quite right, but after a few days away he might not. Makes sense, don’t it?”
“It certainly does,” Daisy said warmly, leaning on the L-shaped counter as the sergeant opened the flap and stepped inside his sanctum. About fifteen feet square, it backed onto the front wall of the museum, with a partition filling the fourth side. “When was that?”
“First two weeks in July. I looked it up.” Jameson flipped back through the pages of a large date-book, then swivelled it for Daisy to see, and pointed. “See?”
“A couple of months ago. That’s about how long Mr. Grange said since the cases were opened, isn’t it? Just right. I bet you’re right. Were you on duty nights then?”
“No, miss, I was not,” said Jameson emphatically. “Not neither week, though some chaps’ shifts changed in the middle of that fortnight, and I done my share of night duty since. The fakes was discovered on my watch, but no one can’t say the real jools was swiped on my watch.”
“Mr. Fletcher asked for a list of all you museum police, I remember. Has he seen everyone yet?”
