The older man got a grip on Tommy’s throat, but Tommy loosened it with a right to the stomach which made the man gasp

Hawke nodded when the recital was finished. “Thank you. Where do you say the policeman has gone?” “To Farmer Elias and the man Peggott. Peggott isn’t popular in the district, but that doesn’t mean he’s a rogue.”

“The jewels have gone somewhere,” said Hawke sharply. “I think we might go out to see this Peggott – and Farmer Elias, for that matter.”

“We’ve no car,” protested Whittaker. “There’s the bus outside,” said Hawke promptly. There was some argument, but he had his way. The old bus rattled back along the road, and then took a by-road leading, said old George, first to Farmer Elias’s farm and then to Peggott’s.

As they neared the first place, the figure of the village policeman, riding a bicycle, came from another by-road.

They stopped for him, and he said rather breathlessly: “Afternoon, Colonel! I been to Peggott’s. He won’t let me go inside – says he’ll set his dogs on me if I try. Proper fierce they are, too!”

Scared

Whittaker and Old George looked excited.

“That’s our man, then! He’s got the jewels there, and he is scared to admit the police,” exclaimed Whittaker.

“We’d best get over there at once,” said George. “I think we’ll see Farmer Elias first,” said Hawke, and although the others protested, he had his way. But he humoured them up to a point by sending Tommy to watch Peggott’s farm. It could be seen from Elias’s.

Farmer Elias was delighted to see them, it seemed. “Hallo, hallo, then! What’s all this trouble?” Whittaker explained and Elias looked grave. “It’s a bad do, that it be. An’ who be you suspecting? Not me, I hope – that would be the wrong kind of a joke.”

“Of course we don’t suspect you,” said Whittaker. “But you were next to Peggott all the way. And you had the best chance to see him get out. Did you notice him touch the cupboard at all?”

Elias needed so long to consider that the others – except Hawke – grew fidgety. Then: “Well, he might have – an’ then again, he might not. I reckon I wouldn’t like to swear on oath that he touched it, but I couldn’t rightly say for sure.”

Whittaker turned testily to Hawke. “I told you so – we’re wasting precious time.”

“That’s what my assistant said before,” said Hawke drily. “But I can’t say I’m really satisfied that Peggott took that case. I think Farmer Elias would be quite sure he had seen the action, if it had taken place.”

“Are you suggesting I’m lying?” demanded Elias aggressively.

“No,” said Hawke. “I’m suggesting you would have seen something which happened in front of your eyes. I’m inclined to doubt, as a matter of fact, whether the case ever left the bus.”

“But – ” began Whittaker.

Slammed

Suddenly Old George broke from the little group inside the farmhouse, and was a shade too quick for Hawke to stop him. He slammed the door behind him, and before they had got it opened again, they heard the engine of his bus revving up.

The bus started clattering its way along the road, with Hawke and Whittaker in pursuit, and the policeman almost falling off his bicycle. The bus was headed towards Peggott’s farm, however, and Tommy saw it coming.

At first he thought the others were in it. Then he saw the expression on Old George’s face, and saw the others streaming along behind.

Tommy tightened his lips, and stood on a bank by the roadside. As the bus lumbered up, he jumped. For a moment he thought he was going to miss his footing, but he held on. George tried to fend him off, and to keep control of the bus at the same time. It was impossible, and the steering-wheel turned towards the bank.

Tommy gripped the driver’s wrists. The bus thudded against the bank, and for a moment it seemed as if it would be impossible to prevent it from overturning.

But very slowly it righted itself. As it did so, George made a big effort to throw Tommy off.

In the confined space of the driving-seat they fought desperately. The older man got a grip on Tommy’s throat, but Tommy loosened it with a right to the stomach which made the man gasp and double up.

As he sprawled forward, a package slid from his coat pocket. Tommy picked it up as the others arrived – and he saw on it the label of the jeweller’s.

Whittaker tore the package open, and the fine, shiny pearls glowed.

The policeman was busy charging Old George by then – and the driver confessed. He had seen a chance of stealing the pearls and saying they were lost, and then he had snatched what had looked a golden opportunity to blame a stranger.

“But he chose the wrong stranger,” said Dixon Hawke, a little later, while he and Tommy were having tea in Whittaker’s drawing-room.

“It’s not going to surprise me, Colonel, if you find that the bus driver has quite a collection of stolen or ‘lost ’ things – and no man would steal a necklace unless he knew where to dispose of it. He’s sure to be in touch with a fence.”

Innocent

Hawke was right – and a few weeks later Old George was sent on a long term of imprisonment. He confessed to many small robberies in the district, and also confessed that he had made the counterfeit coins of which Peggott had been suspected.

“Peggott is quite innocent of everything, then,” said Tommy. “I’ve never seen a more crafty-looking specimen! And why wouldn’t he let the policeman search his farm?”

Hawke smiled. “He’s a naturally sour-tempered man, old son – but you aren’t necessarily a crook if you’ve a permanent bad temper, and you keep fierce dogs to ensure privacy.

“Well, that was an unexpected interlude, in every way, but it’s finished as it should. If everything ended like that, this would be a more cheerful world!”

Tommy thought about that, and as usual, he agreed that Hawke was right, as he always was.

More tomorrow.

Two collections of Dixon Hawke stories are available from www.dcthomsonshop.co.uk or freephone 0800 318 846.