Read The Tiger in the Well for Free Online Page A

were simply recorded as/«//, but that was standard practice, she saw from the other entries. His rank or profession was given as commission agent, and they both apparently resided in the parish of Southam. Under the column for father's name and surname, hers was blank apart from a line drawn across it, as was the entry for her father's rank or profession. His father, apparently, was called James John Parrish, and he was a clerk.
    "Is there no record of anyone's address.?" she asked. "Not even the witnesses.'*"
    "None at all. That isn't recorded."
    "So these witnesses could come from anywhere.? Do you recognize their names.?"
    The witnesses' names were given as Edward William Sims and Emily Franklin. Mr. Murray looked briefly and shook his head.
    But there was no doubt of her handwriting. That was her signature, or an extraordinarily good imitation. They must have gotten hold of a legal document from somewhere, since she normally signed herself Sally; but it was her V, her B,

    her swift untidy Lockhart. The rest of the writing, apart from Parrish's, was in the hand of the Reverend Mr. Beech.
    "Is there any way in which an entry like this could be tampered with?" she said.
    "Tampered with?"
    "Well, forged. I mean, could someone put in a fake entry for some period in the past?"
    "Impossible, I should say. They're consecutive, after all. Entries have to be made at the time of marriage—and you'll see they're all numbered. This one is marriage number two hundred and three, for instance. Number two hundred and four took place in—let me see—the following March. No, they couldn't be put in out of sequence, if that's what you mean. If you wanted to put in a fake record for eighteen seventy-nine, say, it would have to be done at that time."
    "Are there any other records?"
    "I have to inform the local registrar every quarter about the marriages which have taken place. I send off a form like this"—he showed her a slip of paper—"with all the details from the register. From there—^well, I don't know what happens, to be frank. Occasionally they query one if there's been a mistake, a word left out or an inconsistent spelling, so someone must be checking them. Presumably they send them on to Somerset House."
    Somerset House in London was where the General Register of Births, Deaths, and Marriages was kept. She was going to go there next, but she knew what she'd find.
    "I see," she said. "Well, thank you, Mr. Murray. I'll just make a copy of this one, if you don't mind."
    She copied the form in full; it didn't take long. He waited nearby and anxiously put away the books when she'd finished.
    "The previous incumbent, Mr. Beech," she said. "Is there anyone in the parish who might know where he's gone? Your servants, for instance?"
    He looked uncomfortable, and more austere than ever.
    "The rectory staff are all, how shall I say, all new," he

    said. "The previous cook-housekeeper left before I arrived, and Mr. Beech did not keep a carriage, so there was no groom. There was a female servant who left shortly after I came. I had to give her notice. I don't know where she went."
    "What about the churchwardens.-* Isn't there anyone who could tell me where he is now.^* Would the bishop know.?"
    "I . . . to be frank. Miss Lockhart, the affairs of the parish were not in good order when I came here. Mr. Beech had not been well for some time. I think that whatever your inquiry may concern, Mr. Beech—^wherever he may be—is not likely to be able to help."
    "I don't understand," she said. "Do you mean he's still unwell.? Mr. Murray, my reason for asking is desperately serious. The last thing I want to do is persecute Mr. Beech, but if I could speak to him—"
    "Miss Lockhart, I don't know where he is, and I very much doubt whether anyone else in the parish does either. As for the bishop"—he shrugged. "Inquire, by all means. Are you"— he looked at the cupboard where he'd put the registers— "are you implying that these records are not