Mr Nosegoode finished shaving. He put the cut-throat razor aside and examined his face in the mirror, noting the white traces of soap. He ran his fingers down his chin and, without taking his eyes off his reflection, asked Cody, “What time are you setting off?”
“Same time as you. Immediately after breakfast. You’ll go off on your errands, and I’ll wait for Blackbeard at the front. As soon as I see him, I’ll start tracking him. I’ll watch his every move.”
“You really expect to find proof that the owner of that fake beard is a criminal?”
“I do. If I didn’t expect it, I wouldn’t traipse after him all over town. I’d lie in the garden, warming my old bones in the sun.”
Ambrosius rinsed his face, wiped it with a towel and reached for his aftershave.
“Are you sure you won’t choose the garden after all?”
Cody gave him an indignant look.
“How can you say that? You know that I don’t break my resolutions.”
“Unfortunately, I do know!” the detective sighed.
“What do you mean, ‘unfortunately’? Maybe you don’t think a dog should keep his resolutions?”
“Not at all!” Ambrosius protested and began preparing breakfast.
For a little while, Cody pretended to be offended, but when milk, cottage cheese and fresh buns appeared on the table, there was no trace of resentment remaining.
At eight o’clock, the two friends left the house. A bright morning greeted them outside. The sky was cloudless, and the garden resounded with birdsong. Ambrosius inhaled the brisk air and asked his dog, “Where are you going to wait for Blackbeard?”
Cody looked around for a hiding place. “Behind that wild rose bush. There’s a good view of Mrs Hardtack’s house from there.”
Ambrosius complimented him on his choice and then gave him a gentle flick on the nose.
“Well, take care!” he said.
Cody suddenly realized that he’d soon be alone, without his friend, left to his own devices. For a moment, his resolve wavered. Maybe I should back out? he thought. Maybe I should tuck in my tail and let Blackbeard be? Why risk an encounter with a criminal? But his hesitation didn’t last long. No, he wouldn’t abandon his plan. He would prove to Ambrosius that the owner of the black beard wasn’t an innocent collector of music boxes. He’d open his eyes to the danger. He had to do it!
Ambrosius was already by the gate. He was struggling with the latch.
“Ambrosius!” the dog called wistfully. “If something happens to me, remember that I’ve always…”
The detective waved goodbye.
“Tail up! Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
Cody didn’t reply. He took cover behind the rose bush and from his hiding place watched his friend get further and further away.
*
Mr Nosegoode walks at an unhurried pace, strolling towards the newsagent’s stand, as he does every morning. Passing Mrs Hardtack’s house, he glances casually at the window, but there’s nobody there. The net curtain doesn’t budge. Mr Nosegoode starts whistling to himself.
He slowly approaches the news-stand. He stops in front of it, asks for his daily batch of newspapers, pays for them and continues on his way. He walks through the square, says hello to the baker and turns into Barrel-Organ Street. It looks as though he’s going to visit Mr Blossom.
It’s not far to the workshop now. But what’s this? Mr Nosegoode suddenly crosses the street and quickens his steps. Evidently, he wants to avoid meeting the clockmaker. So where is he going? If he turns left, it means he’s heading towards the train station; if he turns right, it’s towards the chemist’s.
He turns right. That means he must have something to discuss with Mr Swallowtail. But that’s not it either – he slows down again, looking all around him. There is a clump of bushes, some newspapers strewn on the ground, a few empty beer bottles… Mr Nosegoode goes over to the bushes, leans down and pulls something out from under a branch. A pair of black silk gloves!
He lifts the gloves up to examine the initials embroidered on them before putting them in his pocket and continuing to look around the bushes. He’s found something else! It’s a length of iron bar. He inspects it and removes a sliver of wood from its end. He puts the splinter in a little box and wraps the bar in a newspaper. Now he’s probably going to head for the pharmacy. But no. He’s backtracking to the intersection and going to the train station.
A locomotive is puffing on the track, pigeons are cooing on the roof and a coachman is dozing in his horse-drawn carriage at the entrance to the station.
Mr Nosegoode takes it all in at a glance and goes up to the timetable posted on a board. He studies it with great interest. Seconds pass: one, two, three… There it is! It’s clear from the detective’s expression that he has found what he was looking for.
Unable to contain himself, he mutters, “It all adds up. I was right!”
These words attract the curiosity of the young woman at the ticket office, who raises her head from her paperwork to give Mr Nosegoode a concerned look.
Mr Nosegoode also startles the coachman when he rouses him out of his nap by asking to be driven to Barrel-Organ Street.
“Inspector! At this hour? Without any luggage? What a nice surprise! Would you like a blanket for your legs? No? Gee-up, lad, let’s go!”
The horse’s hooves clip-clop on the cobblestones and the carriage jolts up and down. Mr Nosegoode smiles to himself, while the coachman clicks his tongue at the horse. A turn to the right and they’re in Barrel-Organ Street.
“Where would you like me to stop?”
“Two houses before the clockmaker’s shop.”
Two houses before the clockmaker’s? How interesting! The carriage continues for a few dozen yards before coming to a halt. Mr Nosegoode hands some money to the coachman, jumps out onto the pavement and continues on foot towards Mr Blossom’s workshop.
He goes up the steps and looks through the window. Only Joey is bustling about inside. Looking pleased, Mr Nosegoode goes in.
“Oh, hello, Inspector!” Joey cries out, blushing. “Have you caught the thief yet?”
“Almost,” Mr Nosegoode answers. “Is the master in?”
“No, I’m afraid he’s gone out. He went to fix the solicitor’s clock. A tall, free-standing one. He’ll be back in an hour.”
“That’s too bad,” Mr Nosegoode says, but there is no trace of dismay on his face.
Joey wants to ask him all sorts of questions, but the detective doesn’t give him time to speak. He begins asking questions himself.
“How is your aunt in Duckfield?” he enquires strangely.
Joey’s eyes widen.
“My aunt in Duckfield? But I… I don’t have an aunt in Duckfield!”
“Oh, no matter!” Mr Nosegoode laughs. “Perhaps an uncle of yours lives there? Or your brother-in-law?”
“I don’t know anyone there!”
The detective doesn’t stop smiling.
“And yet you’re planning a trip to Duckfield,” he says.
Joey’s eyes widen even more.
“Me? To Duckfield? You’ve got it wrong, Inspector.”
Mr Nosegoode pats him on the shoulder and says in a soothing tone, “You’re right, I’m wrong. But I highly recommend a visit to Duckfield one day. It’s a lovely town!”
Ambrosius goes out of the workshop, leaving Joey speechless. He walks back to Skylark Lane and doesn’t stop until he reaches his house. Opening the gate, he calls out, “Cody! Cody!”