William couldn’t help wishing he’d stayed in New York and was now visiting the Frick, rather than roaming around the countryside searching for an abandoned car.

‘What in hell’s name are they up to?’ said Danny, when he spotted a couple of youths unscrewing the bolts on the wheel of a car. He threw on the brakes, but the two lads had fled in different directions long before he got out of the car, one of them with a wheel under his arm.

‘Do you want me to go after him, boss?’

‘No,’ said William, staring at the number plate. ‘They’ve left a far bigger prize behind. Call Inspector Thomas, tell him to send a tow truck, and to keep the car under wraps until I get back in touch with him.’

While Danny was on the radio, Ross, who had circled the car several times, was now looking over a nearby hedge. ‘Over here, sir,’ he shouted.

William quickly joined him. They clambered through the hedge and into a muddy field, where William used a small branch to carefully pick up a chauffeur’s hat.

‘We’ll only need one fingerprint to confirm that Captain Ralph Neville is in fact Miles Faulkner,’ said William. ‘But what I want to know is why he dumped the car here.’

‘That might be the reason,’ said Ross, pointing to a bus stop.

‘Well spotted,’ said William. They crossed the road and examined the timetable inside the shelter. ‘There was a bus to Sevenoaks at two twenty on Saturday,’ said William.

‘That would fit in with the timing,’ said Ross, as Danny joined them.

‘Inspector Thomas is on his way, and a tow truck will follow shortly. What next, guv?’

‘Seal this in an evidence bag,’ said William, handing over the chauffeur’s hat, before he checked the timetable once again. ‘I’ll take the next bus to Sevenoaks and meet you both there, at the last stop. Ross, when you get there, try to see everything through Faulkner’s eyes. That might help us work out what he did next. I’ll do the same while I’m on the bus.’

William watched as the two of them climbed back into the car and sped away. He sat down in the shelter and waited for the next bus to appear.

CHAPTER 10

THE LOCAL BUS TRUNDLED SLOWLY over the hill and juddered to a halt at the stop. A solitary passenger climbed aboard and took a seat near the front.

‘Where to?’ asked the ticket collector.

‘Sevenoaks,’ said William.

‘Sixty pence.’

William took out his warrant card and asked, ‘Were you working this run yesterday afternoon, around twelve, one o’clock?’

‘No, sir, that’s Rose’s shift. She’s off today, doesn’t work Sundays.’

‘Rose?’

‘Rose Prescott. Been on this run for years,’ he said with a chuckle.

‘Thank you,’ said William, then sat back and looked out of the window at the passing countryside, wondering if it was possible that Faulkner was still in England. His thoughts were interrupted by a siren, as a police car shot past them on the other side of the road. He made a mental note to call Inspector Thomas and thank him.