Read Online Dead Man's Quarry by Ianthe Jerrold - Free Book Online

moment. “My father may have driven over in that.”
    But as they drew up outside the Tram a tall woman in a rough tweed coat and hat left the porch of the inn and came quickly towards them.
    â€œHullo, Felix,” she said quickly, with a glance at John. “Have you seen anything of Uncle Morris?”
    Felix shook his head.
    â€œHasn’t he come home?”
    â€œNo. So I thought I’d better come down. I wanted them to move the body to Rhyllan, but they intend to hold the inquest here.”
    It was characteristic of Blodwen Price that she wasted no words in vain expressions of horror or regret; that her grey eyes were dry and clear and her low voice steady and matter-of-fact. She was a woman of thirty-six or seven, with a shrewd weather-beaten face redeemed from extreme plainness by a pair of singularly clear, deep-set grey eyes with fine dark brows and lashes. John noticed that the moody Felix seemed to become steadier and cooler at the first contact with her self-contained personality.
    â€œWhen do they propose to hold the inquest?” he asked in a voice as low and matter-of-fact as her own.
    â€œI don’t know. It depends on Uncle Morris. Apparently he met Charles here last night. Did you know that?”
    â€œYes. This is Mr. Christmas. My cousin, Miss Price.”
    Miss Price’s bright eyes measured John in a rapid glance as they shook hands. Then they turned towards the inn. It was not the time for an exchange of amiable sociabilities.
    Dr. Browning met them in the passage, and explaining that the Superintendent was at the moment in the bar-parlour interviewing the landlord, led the way into a tiny crowded room at the back of the house that was evidently a family sitting-room. He looked pale and distressed as he greeted Felix and Blodwen.
    â€œI’m afraid this is a sad home-coming for you, Miss Price. Please accept my deep sympathy. And you too, Felix. Dear, dear! To think that the poor young fellow was joking over the tea-table with us yesterday!
    â€œWhen was the body found?” asked Blodwen unemotionally.
    â€œThis morning. Young Hufton of Upper Ring Farm works on the railway as a plate-layer, and found the poor fellow at the foot of the quarry on his way to work. Quite early, I believe. But of course it took some time to get in touch with the police... A terrible thing. What can the motive have been?”
    There was a pause. Felix looked slowly from the doctor to Blodwen, and then from her impassive face back at the doctor again.
    â€œWhat’s that?” he said in a low voice, and then on a sharper note:“Then it wasn’t an accident?”
    â€œHaven’t they told you?” asked Dr. Browning pitifully. “I’m sorry! No, it wasn’t an accident.” He hesitated, looking kindly and sadly at the boy’s white face. “Nor suicide,” he finished quietly.
    There was a silence.
    â€œMurder,” muttered Felix, gazing stonily before him. He turned almost fiercely the moment after on the doctor. “How can you tell it wasn’t suicide?” he cried in a strained, shaking voice.
    Dr. Browning made no reply. He gave the slightest shrug to his shoulders and glanced at Christmas.
    â€œOh, Lord!” cried Felix, as if the full realization of what such a thing would mean had only just come to him. “What a ghastly business! Blodwen!”
    He looked wildly at his cousin, then sank into the window-seat and covered his face with his hands. John, who had taken a liking to this sensitive and excitable youth, found himself wondering again why the death of a scarcely-known and unsympathetic cousin should cause this acute distress. Felix was obviously a youth of high-strung sensibilities, but he did not seem to John to be a weak or hysterical character. Patting his shoulder, John knew an almost paternal feeling for his young friend, though he had the advantage of him by certainly not more than five years.
    It was not