Death of an Adept

"About the Hand? Nothing. And we don't intend to tell them anything. They'd only want to take it away with them as evidence - and frankly, that could be tantamount to handing a child a loaded gun. They don't have either the knowledge or the resources to deal with a thing like this. No, everyone is better off if we keep it here until Adam has time to examine it properly, and possibly determine where it came from."

Chapter Twenty-Five

DOWN at the gate lodge, the police had completed their survey of the crime scene and were now gathered in the sitting room by the light of candle and lantern, taking stock of their findings over steaming mugs of tea. Across the hall, the kitchen door was standing open to encourage dissipation of the residual fumes from the Hand. Peregrine had explained the lingering smell to the police as being the product of the glue sizing he used to prepare his canvases. He had been relieved when the two policemen appeared to take his word for it.

"I'm afraid your would-be burglars left precious little behind in the way of evidence," said the senior officer, whose name was McLachlan. "When they wear gloves, they don't leave prints. Footprints can be useful, but the snow's been well trampled round about the back door. The few clear footprints we found aren't likely to tell us much."

"Any idea how many intruders there were?" Adam asked.

McLachlan pursed his lips. "I'd say at least two, plus one driving the getaway van. The tracks converge on the house from two different directions. But that's about all I can say for certain."

He transferred his attention to Peregrine. "You don't happen to keep anything of significant worth or value on the premises here, do you, Mr. Lovat? Something that might interest a collector of art or antiquities?''

"No, nothing," Peregrine said with a shake of his head.

"That's strange, then," McLachlan grunted. "Most burglars try to avoid breaking into a house where they know there are people at home - unless they're after something specific, that they know is in the house. Cat burglars will sneak into a house when the occupants are sleeping - they almost regard it as a challenge - but they don't usually cut phone lines."

"What about power lines?" Peregrine demanded. "Was that just to frighten us?"

"And to help them get away," McLachlan replied, "though it sounds like the arrival of Sir Adam and his man was what really scared them off."

"That still doesn't explain what they were after," Adam said, though he had a fair idea it was not what but who.

McLachlan shrugged. "I don't suppose they could have mistakenly thought that you lived here, Sir Adam? After all, you're a physician. Maybe they thought there were drugs in the house."

"If they were sophisticated enough to cut the phone lines - and then the power lines - they'd have known better than that," Adam pointed out.

"Well, whatever the case, you and your wife were damned lucky, Mr. Lovat," McLachlan said, turning to Peregrine. "This far out in the country, you're isolated enough to present an inviting target to anyone looking for trouble, if I were you, I'd maybe reconsider that cat flap. And get secondary locks fitted to your doors and make sure your windows are securely shut after dark."

"For that matter," Adam said, "it's probably time we had the security arrangements upgraded all over the estate. You can be certain I'll start making the necessary phone calls first thing in the morning. In the meantime, thank you both for coming so promptly."

"Glad to be of service, Sir Adam," McLachlan said. "I guess that about wraps things up for tonight. Mr. Lovat, you have my card and telephone number, if anything else crops up that you think we ought to know about. Meanwhile, we'll get an advisory bulletin on the wire and let you know if and when there are any further developments."

Following the departure of the police, Peregrine sank gratefully into the nearest armchair.

"Whew! I'm glad that's over," he muttered fervently. "I feel as if I've been hit by a lorry."

"You do look as if you could use a breather," Adam said. "Just stay put for a few minutes and recollect yourself. I'll tidy up the tea things."

He carried the tea mugs into the kitchen and rinsed them under the hot water tap by candlelight, crouching down to inspect the cat-flap again before closing and locking the kitchen door and then returning to the sitting room. Peregrine had taken off his spectacles and was knuckling his eyes like a tired child. He started at the sound of Adam's footfalls, shaking his head as he put his spectacles back on.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," he fretted. "Ever since we came back here, I've been attempting on and off to see if I could pick up some visionary impression of whoever was attempting to gain entry. But it's no use. However hard I try, I just can't seem to get focused."