Read Online Gently Down the Stream by Alan Hunter - Free Book Online Page B

tried to think where I probably went. I didn’t believe you would be so pathologically suspicious as to set a trap over such a simple little thing. But it’s a lesson to me, I assure you. I shall think twice what I tell to policemen in the future!’
    ‘Hmn.’
    Gently regarded him stolidly.
    ‘At least it’s a curious way to ride such a lethal instrument as a motorcycle … where did you really go?’
    ‘To Cheapham – only I don’t remember how I got there.’
    ‘It wouldn’t have been by way of Ollby – with your mind miles away?’ struck in Hansom sardonically.
    ‘It’s the truth !’ screamed Paul, turning on him wildly. ‘It is , I tell you – it is !’
    ‘All right, all right!’ Gently waved a pacific hand. ‘There’s no need to get worked up about it, Mr Lammas … if you say it’s the truth we’ll duly note the fact. Now why not sit down and try to be a little more accurate and helpful?’
    Paul glared at him in defiance for a moment, but he was trembling violently and needed the seat. He sat down. Gently gave him time off while the map was refolded.
    ‘Do you smoke, Mr Lammas?’
    ‘What has that got to do with it?’
    ‘I was going to offer you a fill, if you smoked a pipe.’
    ‘Thank you, but I only smoke my own brand!’
    Gently shrugged and slipped the map back in his pocket.
    ‘Getting back to Friday night … you arrived in ahead of your mother, I understand.’
    ‘I did. I hope it wasn’t a criminal act.’
    ‘How long ahead of your mother?’
    ‘About four or five minutes. She had gone for a run to Sea Weston – she often goes for a run to Sea Weston!’
    ‘I wasn’t asking for details of your mother’s movements, Mr Lammas … she joined you here in the lounge, did she not?’
    ‘I suppose so.’
    ‘What happened then?’
    ‘We talked, of course. I daresay we smoked and read.’
    ‘Of what did you talk?’
    ‘I really don’t remember.’
    ‘Come, come, Mr Lammas … the servants have ears too.’
    Paul glanced at him with sudden apprehension, but the words that came to his lips were repressed.
    ‘We know there was a row … I’m asking you what it was about.’
    ‘But there wasn’t a row – that’s absolute moonshine!’
    ‘Call it what you like.’
    ‘I tell you there was nothing of the sort! Mother and I have never rowed in our lives. What on earth should we have rowed about? It’s a lot of kitchen tittle-tattle!’
    Hansom swooped forward in his chair. He wasn’t even pretending to be bored.
    ‘Look … in words of one syllable! Suppose you went out and bumped off your old man. Suppose your mother had a hunch and tailed you to Ollby. Suppose she worked on the chauffeur and got him to act the fall-guy. Wouldn’t that add up to a conversation piece when you next got together?’
    Gently had rarely seen such ghastly pallor in a human face. The young man’s eyes seemed almost black against the mask of white.
    ‘You don’t … you can’t … believe that!’
    ‘Why not? It fits the facts!’
    ‘But it’s ludicrous … you can’t !’
    He was swaying as he sat. Every moment Gently expected to see him pitch forward on to the floor. But he didn’t. He fought it off. With his small mouth compressed till it was practically invisible, he forced the colour back into his cheeks. It was an effort of pure will.
    ‘What you say is untrue … there isn’t a grain of truth in it!’
    ‘We’re not saying there is.’ Gently threw a fierce glance at Hansom. ‘The inspector was merely emphasizing that this is a case of homicide and that prevarication may be dangerous. He had no other intention.’
    Hansom made a face and rocked back into neutrality.
    ‘But we would still like an answer to the question … what was the occasion of the difference with your mother on Friday night?’
    ‘I’ve told you; there wasn’t any difference.’
    ‘Then the servants were lying to us?’
    ‘Yes. If they say there was. Lying or using their imagination too