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.At any rate, it did not seem to affect Professor Darslow sprogress.Cautiously Simon peeped over the rim of the steering wheel and noted that theprofessor had not bothered to scrape the overnight frost from the rear window.Until the sun or the car s heater dissolved the grey crystal coating, it wouldnot be easy for him to discover that he was being followed.The Hirondel awokewith a roar that slipped into rhythmic purring as he flicked the stick intogear and swung out on the trail of theAustin, steering with one hand andmunching a bacon sandwich held in the other.Darslow drove at a steady forty miles an hour once they had cleared thelimits ofCambridge, and the Saint remained a regular fifty yards astern.Asthey followed the main highway towards Saffron Walden he brought theconversation back to the fellows of St.Enoch s. If you think Professor Edwin Darslow is far too meek and mild to be amurderer, he remarked thoughtfully,  why does he have that shifty and evasivemanner? I think he s terribly shy.But he s rather sweet.It was not the objective observation he would have preferred, and Chantek,sensing that he was hoping for something more substantial, continued:  Itdoesn t seem likely that someone who lectures in law would commit a crime.The Saint smiled to himself as he thought of all the pillars of propriety hehad known, from Cabinet ministers and judges to a few police officers, whowere always lecturing in law in one way or another but had not always beenknown to practise their teachings themselves.But he let the matter rest andwent on to see if he could learn any more about Darslow s colleagues. What doyou know about Professor Rosco? he asked. He s sweet. Are all professors sugar-coated as far as you re concerned? Simon enquired,Page 61ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlhalf amused by her innocence and half exasperated by her vagueness. What Imean, Chantek explained with slow deliberation,  is that Professor Darslow issweet like an uncle, but Rosco is mmmmm sweet. The seductive purr made theSaint chuckle. I get the message.Is he one of your tutors? No, bad luck.I m reading English, and he lectures on zoology, she saidwith a sigh.Rosco was clearly a more stimulating topic of conversation, and she needed noprompting to continue. He s really very clever and he has been all over the world on expeditions.Borneo, the Amazon,Africa, everywhere.When he came here last year there was a feature on him in the universitymagazine, full of pictures of him wading through swamps and hacking throughjungles and things.Last summer he went toKenyato study the animals in one ofthe national parks and almost got killed by a leopard. Sounds like stirring stuff, Simon agreed. He doesn t approve of hunting, but he had to kill it with a single shot justas it sprang, Chantek said.The Saint, who had firsthand knowledge of the speed of a big cat going forthe kill and the reflexes needed to stay alive, was duly impressed. He mustbe a good shot. He s won prizes for it.There s a whole cabinet full of them in his study,and he helps to run the shooting club of the university too.  Is that so? hemurmured, and was silent as he considered what Chantek had told him.He had thought Rosco out of place the night before because he appeared lessfusty than the others, and his global wanderings certainly provided a reasonwhy he should be more open-minded than they.The fact that he could alsohandle himself in a tight corner and knew his way around a firearm was of evengreater interest. I don t think that either Dr.Burridge or Mr.Nyall really approves of him,Chantek was saying, and he filed his thoughts for the moment and returned tothe present. Why not?She shrugged. Oh, I don t know really.They re so stuffy and always going on about thecollege and its traditions, and he s not a bit like that.She paused, and he was about to press her for more information about thecollege administrators when theAustinindicated right and turned off the mainhighway onto a secondary road.The Saint followed, and before he could restartthe conversation a signpost announced that they were coming tothevillageofBucksberry.As English villages go, it was neither historically nor visually interesting,but on that particular morning it did have a certain picturesque charm owingPage 62ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlto the riders and their pack of yapping hounds who were gathered on the greenoutside the aptly named Fox Inn.With the last traces of snow still clingingto the rooftops, it could have been a scene straight from a Victorianpainting.Darslow stopped in the pub s forecourt next to a group of locals whowere watching the preparations for the morning s hunt.Simon tucked theHirondel behind the cover of a conveniently placed van outside the generalstore on the opposite side of the road and switched off the engine.Theprofessor clambered out of his car and began talking to two or three of themen standing on the pavement.The Saint wound down his window but was too faraway to hear what was said, and to leave the Hirondel would have riskedinstant recognition if Darslow looked his way.The conversation appeared,however, to consist more of arm pointing and head nodding than verbalcommunication.Darslow s dress ofWellingtonboots, tough cord trousers, and chunky rollnecksweater beneath a heavy homespun jacket blended perfectly with the clothes ofthose he talked to and with the environment generally.If the rest of the daywas to be spent roaming the countryside, the Saint began to fear that hisBondStreetcar coat and Savile Row jacket and slacks might place him at aconspicuous disadvantage. What s he doing, Simon? Chantek asked. I m not sure, but by the look of it he s being given directions.We ll just have to wait and see where to.Although he could not hear Darslow s conversation there was no difficulty inhearing the remarks of the nearer riders and hunt followers as they drainedtheir stirrup cups and speculated on the sport ahead of them.Dominating thegroup and clearly in charge of it was a red-jacketed rider whose heavy roangelding stamped impatiently on the turf.The man, like his horse, was largeand powerfully built.His features were strong and florid and he controlledhis mount with the sureness of an accomplished horseman.The whippers-in were ordering the hounds and the landlord of the inn wascollecting the last of the stirrup cups, indicating that the hunt was about tomove off [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]