Free Barbara Cleverly by Ragtime in Simla

abhors and rejects violence, doesn’t he?’ Joe objected.
    ‘Yes, indeed, he does. But one cannot always control one’s supporters. And there are many in India who are ready to stir up trouble for the British by any means at their disposal. Even these green hills, Mr Sandilands, could prove to be the slopes of a sleeping volcano. The population of Simla in the summer months is forty thousand. And do you know what proportion of these are European?’
    Joe shook his head.
    ‘Four thousand. And it is the same all over India. There are millions of Indians who have never even set eyes on a white face. You could say we only scratch the surface of the continent. And, like an irritant flea, we could be swept away with one flick of our host’s finger.’
    ‘Any moment now,’ thought Joe, ‘she’s going to start lecturing me on the Indian Mutiny.’ Aloud he said, ‘I’ll bear this in mind, Mrs Sharpe. But I’m reluctant to begin to form any theories until I’ve seen the forensic evidence, however slight it may be, gathered from the scene of the crime. And this I will do tomorrow with Carter.’
    ‘I expect you would like to see me again?’ she volunteered.
    Joe was taken by surprise. Her tone had been almost flirtatious. He was unaccustomed to his interview subjects requesting a second session.
    She laughed, again, he suspected, reading his thoughts correctly. ‘I’m sure you’ll need to ask me if I was responsible for my brother’s death
    where I was at the moment he was killed
    how I may have profited from it and so on. When you’ve learned all you can from Carter why don’t you come to see me at my place of work – it’s just off the Mall.’
    ‘Your work?’ said Joe.
    ‘Oh, yes. I work, Mr Sandilands. I work hard. I am a director of a big – a very big – international company. It’s based in Bombay but I prefer to run things from Simla in the summer. Now we have telegraph and telephone such an arrangement is not out of the question. Heavens! They run the whole of the Indian Empire from here for seven months of the year, one business is nothing in comparison! Take a rickshaw – all know where to find me.’
    And, with a dazzling smile and an unambiguous gesture she managed to convey without any possibility of contradiction that the interview was at an end.
    Much puzzled, Joe returned to the auditorium, still full of chattering people reluctant to disperse. Sir George, accompanied by James, was still holding court. Over the heads of the crowd and discreetly watching, Joe caught the eye of Carter and made his way to him.
    ‘Well?’ they both said together.
    ‘One or two things here,’ said Joe, ‘which – I don’t know if you agree – we really ought to talk about. When can we arrange to do that?’
    ‘I was going to say the same thing. Look, why don’t we meet again tomorrow? Go over some of the evidence with me. And, to take this thing away from the cloak of officialdom, why don’t you come and have tiffin with us? Apart from anything else I’d like you to meet my wife.’
    ‘I’d like to meet your wife. Let’s do that.’
    ‘Any rickshaw will bring you to my house.’
    ‘I was going to say,’ said Sir George as they remounted the carriage together, ‘I think the time has come for a further conference with Carter but if I well understood what you and he were saying to each other just now, it seems as if that may have arranged itself. Am I right?’
    On return to Sir George’s residence it became clear that he and Joe had very different ideas as to how the next hour or so should be passed. Hospitable and expansive, Sir George could see no reason why they should not between them discuss the day’s events over a bottle of port. Joe, nearly dropping with tiredness, wasn’t even sure that he had the strength to fall into bed and he had some difficulty in convincing Sir George of this. He was suffered at last to retire to the manifest comforts of the guest bungalow.
    ‘It’s been a damn long day,’ he said apologetically and, indeed, he could