Read Online Crow's Inn Tragedy by Annie Haynes - Free Book Online

I was wrong about her going down the passage. I didn’t listen particularly.”
    â€œDo you know that I found this glove beside Mr. Bechcombe’s writing-table when I went into the room?” questioned the inspector.
    Spencer shivered.
    â€œNo. I didn’t see it.”
    â€œNevertheless it was there,” said the inspector. “Mr. Spencer, I think you will have to try to remember why that lady’s face was familiar to you. Had you ever seen her here before?”
    â€œNo, I don’t think so. I seem to—” Spencer was beginning when there was an interruption, a loud knock at the door. Spencer turned to it eagerly. “Mr. Thompson has come back, I expect.”
    The inspector was before him, but it was not Amos Thompson who stood outside, or any messenger; it was a tall, thin clergyman with a white, shocked face—the rector of Wexbridge to wit. He stepped aside.
    â€œI must apologize for interrupting you, Mr. Inspector. But I represent my sister-in-law, Mrs. Luke Bechcombe. I had just called and was present when the sad news was broken to her. I came here to make inquiries and also to arrange for the removal of the body. And here I was met by these terrible tidings. Is it—can it be really true that my unfortunate brother-in-law has been murdered?”
    â€œQuite true,” the inspector confirmed in a matter-of-fact fashion in contrast with the clergyman’s agitated tone.
    â€œBut how and by whom?” Mr. Collyer demanded.
    â€œMr. Bechcombe appears to have been attacked, possibly chloroformed, deliberately, and strangled. His body was found in his private office.”
    The rector subsided into the nearest chair.
    â€œI cannot believe it. Poor Luke had not an enemy in the world. What could have been the motive for so horrible a crime?”
    â€œThat I am endeavouring to find out,” the inspector said quietly.
    â€œI can’t understand it,” the clergyman said, raising his hand to his head. “Nobody would wilfully have hurt poor Luke, I am sure.”
    â€œIt is tolerably evident that somebody did,” the inspector commented dryly.
    Mr. Collyer was silent for a minute; putting his elbow on the table, he rested his aching head upon his hand.
    â€œBut who could have done it?” he questioned brokenly at last.
    The inspector coughed.
    â€œThat also I am trying to discover, sir. When did you see Mr. Bechcombe last, Mr. Collyer?”
    â€œLast night. I dined with him at his house in Carlsford Square. Just a few hours ago, and poor Luke seemed so well and happy with us all, making jokes. And now—I can’t believe it.”
    He blew his nose vigorously.
    â€œWas your son one of the dinner party?” the inspector questioned.
    Mr. Collyer looked surprised.
    â€œOh, er—yes, of course Tony was there. He is a favourite with his uncle and aunt.”
    â€œDid you know that he was here this morning?”
    Mr. Collyer’s astonishment appeared to increase.
    â€œCertainly I did not. I do not think he has been. I fancy you are making a mistake.”
    â€œI think not,” the inspector said firmly. “Your son was here this morning just before twelve o’clock. He appears to have caused quite a commotion, demanding to see his uncle and announcing his intention of going to the private door and knocking at it himself.”
    Mr. Collyer dropped his arm upon the table.
    â€œBut—Good—good heavens! Did he go?”
    â€œHe did. He also saw his uncle,” said the inspector. “And now I am rather anxious to hear your son’s account of that interview, Mr. Collyer.”

CHAPTER V
    â€œIt is the aftermath of the War,” said Aubrey Todmarsh, shaking his head. “You take a man away from his usual occupation and for four years you let him do nothing but kill other men and try to kill other men, and then you are surprised when he comes home and still goes on