Read Online Footsteps in the Dark by Georgette Heyer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Georgette Heyer
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be rude."
"Well, you'll know in a minute," retorted Margaret. "And it's no good blinking facts: once you and Peter get an idea into your heads, nothing on God's earth will get it out again. You will make fools of yourselves if you go sleuthing after the unfortunate Mr. Strange. If he is at the root of it the police'll find him out, and if he isn't they'll find that out weeks before you would."
After that, as Peter said, there was nothing to be done but to go and interview the village constable at once. Accordingly he and Charles set out for Framley after lunch, and found the constable, a bucolic person of the name of Flinders, digging his garden.
He received them hopefully, but no sooner had they explained their errand than his face fell somewhat, and he scratched his chin with a puzzled air.
"You'd better come inside, sir," he said, after profound thought. He led them up the narrow path to his front door, and ushered them into the living-room of his cottage. He asked them to sit down and to excuse him for a moment, and vanished into the kitchen at the back of the cottage. Sounds of splashing followed, and in a few moments Constable Flinders reappeared, having washed his earth-caked hands, and put on his uniform coat. With this he had assumed an imposing air of officialdom, and he held in his hand the usual grimy little notebook. "Now, sir!" he said importantly, and took a chair at the table opposite his visitors. He licked the stub of a pencil. "You say you found some person or persons breaking into your house with intent to commit a robbery?"
"I don't think I said that at all," Charles replied. "I found the person in my cellars. What he came for I've no idea."
"Ah!" said Mr. Flinders. "That's very different, that is." He licked the pencil again, reflectively. "Did you reckernise this person?"
Charles hesitated. "No," he answered at last. "There wasn't time. He escaped by this secret way I told you about."
"Escaped by secret way," repeated Mr. Flinders, laboriously writing it down. "I shall have to see that, sir."
"I can show you the spot, but I'm afraid we've already cemented it up."
Mr. Flinders shook his head reproachfully. "You shouldn't have done that," he pronounced. "That'll make it difficult for me to act, that will."
"Why?" asked Peter.
Mr. Flinders looked coldly at him. "I ought to have been called in before any evidence of the crime had been disturbed," he said.
"There wasn't a crime," Peter pointed out.
This threw the constable momentarily out of his stride. He thought again for some time, and presently asked:
"And you don't suspect no one in particular?"
Peter glanced at Charles, who said: "Rather difficult to say. I haven't any good reason to suspect anyone, but various people have been seen hanging about the Priory at different times."
"Ah!" said Mr. Flinders. "Now we are getting at something, sir. I thought we should. You'll have to tell me who you've seen hanging round, and then I shall know where I am."
"Well," said Charles. "There's Mr. Titmarsh to start with."
The constable's official cloak slipped from his shoulders. "Lor', sir, he wouldn't hurt a fly!" he said.
"I don't know what he does to flies," retorted Charles, "but he's death on moths."
Mr. Flinders shook his head. "Of course I shall have to follow it up," he said darkly. "That's what my duty is, but Mr. Titmarsh don't mean no harm. He was catching moths, that's what he was doing."
"So he told us, and for all I know it may be perfectly true. But I feel I should like to know something about the eccentric gentleman. You say he's above suspicion…'
He was stopped by a large hand raised warningly. "No, sir, that I never said, nor wouldn't. It'll have to be sifted. That's what I said."
"… and," continued Charles, disregarding the interruption, "I can't say that I myself think he's likely to be the guilty party. How long has he lived here?"
Mr. Flinders thought for a moment. "Matter of three years," he answered.
"Anything
"Well, you'll know in a minute," retorted Margaret. "And it's no good blinking facts: once you and Peter get an idea into your heads, nothing on God's earth will get it out again. You will make fools of yourselves if you go sleuthing after the unfortunate Mr. Strange. If he is at the root of it the police'll find him out, and if he isn't they'll find that out weeks before you would."
After that, as Peter said, there was nothing to be done but to go and interview the village constable at once. Accordingly he and Charles set out for Framley after lunch, and found the constable, a bucolic person of the name of Flinders, digging his garden.
He received them hopefully, but no sooner had they explained their errand than his face fell somewhat, and he scratched his chin with a puzzled air.
"You'd better come inside, sir," he said, after profound thought. He led them up the narrow path to his front door, and ushered them into the living-room of his cottage. He asked them to sit down and to excuse him for a moment, and vanished into the kitchen at the back of the cottage. Sounds of splashing followed, and in a few moments Constable Flinders reappeared, having washed his earth-caked hands, and put on his uniform coat. With this he had assumed an imposing air of officialdom, and he held in his hand the usual grimy little notebook. "Now, sir!" he said importantly, and took a chair at the table opposite his visitors. He licked the stub of a pencil. "You say you found some person or persons breaking into your house with intent to commit a robbery?"
"I don't think I said that at all," Charles replied. "I found the person in my cellars. What he came for I've no idea."
"Ah!" said Mr. Flinders. "That's very different, that is." He licked the pencil again, reflectively. "Did you reckernise this person?"
Charles hesitated. "No," he answered at last. "There wasn't time. He escaped by this secret way I told you about."
"Escaped by secret way," repeated Mr. Flinders, laboriously writing it down. "I shall have to see that, sir."
"I can show you the spot, but I'm afraid we've already cemented it up."
Mr. Flinders shook his head reproachfully. "You shouldn't have done that," he pronounced. "That'll make it difficult for me to act, that will."
"Why?" asked Peter.
Mr. Flinders looked coldly at him. "I ought to have been called in before any evidence of the crime had been disturbed," he said.
"There wasn't a crime," Peter pointed out.
This threw the constable momentarily out of his stride. He thought again for some time, and presently asked:
"And you don't suspect no one in particular?"
Peter glanced at Charles, who said: "Rather difficult to say. I haven't any good reason to suspect anyone, but various people have been seen hanging about the Priory at different times."
"Ah!" said Mr. Flinders. "Now we are getting at something, sir. I thought we should. You'll have to tell me who you've seen hanging round, and then I shall know where I am."
"Well," said Charles. "There's Mr. Titmarsh to start with."
The constable's official cloak slipped from his shoulders. "Lor', sir, he wouldn't hurt a fly!" he said.
"I don't know what he does to flies," retorted Charles, "but he's death on moths."
Mr. Flinders shook his head. "Of course I shall have to follow it up," he said darkly. "That's what my duty is, but Mr. Titmarsh don't mean no harm. He was catching moths, that's what he was doing."
"So he told us, and for all I know it may be perfectly true. But I feel I should like to know something about the eccentric gentleman. You say he's above suspicion…'
He was stopped by a large hand raised warningly. "No, sir, that I never said, nor wouldn't. It'll have to be sifted. That's what I said."
"… and," continued Charles, disregarding the interruption, "I can't say that I myself think he's likely to be the guilty party. How long has he lived here?"
Mr. Flinders thought for a moment. "Matter of three years," he answered.
"Anything
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