The Ivory Dragon 6/14

P.C. Pembleton studied the lab report on the sample that had been taken from one of ‘The Smuggler’s Cave’ models to analyse the material used. The letter had two enclosures. One was a copy of the official report stating that the material sample supplied was definitely from a human tooth.

The second was a private letter to himself from the analyst, questioning his statement that the models were all of the order of two feet long. He went on to criticise his eyesight, state of mental health and typing ability. The tone was extremely sarcastic, but apart from all the rudeness, it also asked where he’d seen people walking about with teeth of that length.

Charles sighed and handed the letter to his wife. While she read it, he was thinking to himself that if this letter became common knowledge, his life was going to be made pretty miserable by his colleagues from now on.

“There’s only one thing you can do as I see it,” said his wife as she gave him back the letter. “Officially you have to admit that there must have been some sort of mistake, then I suggest you hang around that shop and try to catch the salesman when he goes in to try and sell some more of those models.”

Charles nodded miserably. His wife was right, incredible though it might seem, he had to clear up the mystery otherwise he’d never get his promotion. Unfortunately he didn’t know that the analyst had been so sure that Charles was playing a practical joke on him, that he’d already given the story to the editor of the Holmwood Advertiser.

He made sure that his beat passed the ‘Smuggler’s Cave’ as frequently as possible over the next week or so. Apart from the fact that there were always a couple of boys on bicycles playing about in the side road beside the shop whenever he went past, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He warned them not to stray into the main road, reminding them that he knew their parents, but they assured him that they had no intention of playing dangerously, so he left them to get on with their game.

As the days went by he gradually lost hope of ever seeing the salesman go into the shop and his visits became less and less frequent. Consequently he was not there when the salesman eventually did turn up. He was in the shop for only ten minutes or so, then left promising the shopkeeper to bring some more models in two days time.

One of the boys cycled off immediately as fast as he could to the office of the Holmwood Advertiser, while the other followed the man as he caught a bus going to the local market town. The boy knew the route the bus took and by pedalling hard was able to keep it in sight for the journey. At last the man got off the bus and with a sigh of relief and still panting hard; the boy pushed his bike and followed him out of town, through the supermarket car park and out into the countryside.

Like most boys he knew the area well and was mystified by the route the man was taking. The path he was on only went as far as the old charcoal burners workings, so he stayed well back in case he was seen, expecting to see the man he was following come back at any minute because he was lost. As time went on he rode further and further until at last he arrived in the blind end at the site of the old pitstead.

There was no one to be seen! The man couldn’t have taken one of the side paths; the boy had kept them under observation until the salesman had passed them all. He must have walked along the path, which had very thick bramble hedges growing along each side, until he reached this spot. He had a good look round but could see no clues as to where his quarry might have disappeared, then he rode back to the Advertiser offices as quickly as he could to make his report. He and his friend had been promised five pounds each if they could tell the editor where the man came from and he wasn’t too sure if he would be able to claim his reward.