Constable Across the Moors Read Online Free PDF

content. We can drink all day because we’re residents, and we’ve no worries about driving home or getting in late. Our wives will be happy enough that we’re safe, and we’ll stay here as long as we want, away from business pressures, telephones, secretaries, bank managers, problems and wives. We were going to ring today to tell them we’re safe, but snowed up. Now you’ve gone and ruined it.”
    “Sorry,” I said. “As long as you’re safe, my job is over. I’ll report back by radio.”
    “Don’t say we’re not snowed in, will you? I mean, we could leave now because the plough’s been through, but we don’t want to. Tell ’em we’re safe, but stuck fast.”
    “I’ll simply radio to my Control to say you are here and you are all safe. Am I right in thinking none of you wants to be rescued?”
    “No,” came the murmured chorus. “For God’s sake don’t rescue us. Leave us, officer. In a while, that telephone will mysteriously be reconnected and we’ll convince our loved ones we’re fine, sitting here in eight-foot drifts and suffering like hell, and then the telephone cables will come down again!”
    “I get the message,” I said.
    “Then join us for breakfast. Cereals, bacon, eggs and tomatoes and mushrooms, toast and hot coffee …”
    I joined them. I couldn’t refuse, not after my appetite-raising morning. They chattered about their meetings, their businesses, their twelve-hour days and hectic travelling, and I could see that this enforced holiday was perfect for them. They could relax totally, and I would not reveal this to anyone .
    After breakfast, I told them I must leave. I got invitations to visit them and pocketed many address cards before buttoning up my motor-cycle suit. Now it felt cold and damp, and the thought of leaving this warm place with its beams, open fires, smell of smoke and peat was awful. But I had a mission of national importance and I must not dally a moment longer.
    As I fastened the zips and buttons, a young man in a fine suit and sleek blonde hair came forward for a chat.
    “You didn’t come all this way just to find us, did you?”
    “No.” I was honest. “I’ve another job here.”
    “I reckon it must be important to your people,” he said, puffing at a pipe, “otherwise they wouldn’t have made you risk life and limb by motor cycling here.”
    “It is,” I confirmed, sliding my head into the cold helmet. I pulled the strap under my chin and it was wet with melted snow. I grimaced as I tightened it.
    “Something to do with that chap that I saw crossing the moors, maybe?” he smiled knowingly.
    “Aye.” I knew he’d seen my Russian!
    “I saw him from that back bedroom,” he said. “A tall chap dressed like a bloody Russian. Snow suit and big fur hat. He was crossing the moor on that track behind the pub.”
    “What time?” I asked.
    “Not long before you came,” he said. “Quarter to nine, maybe.”
    “Which way was he going?” I had fastened my chin strap and was ready to leave.
    “Out towards the moor heights. I reckon he’d been sleeping in one of the outhouses of this place, officer.”
    “Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate your interest.”
    “And we appreciate your discretion,” he said.
    I waved farewell to them, and thanked the lady for a superb breakfast. I’d been there well over an hour and was feeling fit and ready. I radioed a brief report to Control and merely confirmed their presence here. I said they were fit and well, with adequate food and warmth, and there was no risk to them.
    To cut a long story short, I guided my faithful Francis Barnett towards the track in question and there I found a single trail of footprints. They emerged from an outbuilding close to the pub and it was easy to follow them in the snow. By now, the flakes had ceased falling and a wintry sun was trying to force a way through the heavy grey clouds. I thought again of Candlemas Day and wondered if the sun would shine.
    It was said locally