Read Online In the Teeth of the Evidence by Dorothy L. Sayers - Free Book Online

and came up here, and left a message to Mr Edgar to come, thinking he might be a protection in case Hughie guessed where he’d gone and follered him up.’
        ‘That’s about the size of it,’ agreed Weybridge. ‘The point is, was it Hughie who came, or was it Mr Edgar?’
        ‘The time would fit either of ’em,’ said Mr Bowles, ‘for they left the Eagle within five minutes of one another, or it might be ten. If Hughie had his bicycle, he could a-got here by eight, easy. He didn’t stay in the bar more nor a minute or so after you went into the parlour, Mr Egg.’
        ‘Well,’ said the Chief Constable, ‘we must find out if anybody saw either of them in the town at 8 o’clock or thereabouts. Let’s work it out. Suppose it was Mr Edgar. His father is expecting him and lets him in. They come in here, and Mr Robbins takes out this letter and shows it to him. Then Mr Edgar suddenly loses his temper and strikes out, killing his father, either accidentally or of set purpose. Then what does he do? He takes the trouble to tear away as much of this letter as he can, including the signature, if there was one – on purpose to keep all the suspicion to himself. That’s either very stupid or very honest of him. Then, instead of taking the keys and making his escape that way, he runs and hides somewhere, till Baggitt is fool enough to open the gate and leave the way clear for him.’
        ‘It looks more to me,’ said the Inspector, ‘as if the man that wrote the letter did the murder.’
        ‘Meaning Searle. Very well. In that case, Mr Robbins let him in, thinking it was Mr Edgar. Once in, he couldn’t very well be turned out by a man double his age and half his strength, and Baggitt was some way away, so Mr Robbins makes the best of a bad job and takes him into the office. They discuss this little matter of goal-keeping; Mr Robbins says something that gets Searle’s goat, and it all happens the same way as before, except that it’s more natural that Searle should destroy the letter, if he wrote it, and that he shouldn’t wait to look for the keys, since he wouldn’t know as well as Mr Edgar where the old man kept them.’
        ‘I can’t believe, if you’ll excuse me,’ said Mr Bowles, ‘that Hughie would go to do such a thing for such a reason. It’s true he’s got a hot temper, and uses language – but to take a brass paper-weight to an elderly gentleman! That don’t seem like Hughie.’
        ‘You’ll pardon my putting my oar in,’ said Mr Egg, ‘but even the humblest suggestion may be of use. “When it’s a question of stamps to lick, the office-boy knows most of the trick,” as it says in the Handbook . I wouldn’t be too sure that young Searle wrote that letter. What’s his job in life?’
        ‘He’s a motor-mechanic down at Hobson’s garage.’
        ‘Ever been in a drawing office or advertising business? Anything of an artist, or skilled letterer? That sort of thing?’
        ‘Nothing of that sort,’ replied Mr Bowles firmly.
        ‘I only ask,’ said Monty, ‘because this letter was written by somebody who’s been accustomed to write in capitals as quick and easy as you or I would write in ordinary hand. See how the letters are joined together, and how free the movement of the pencil is. It’s rough, but it’s clear, and it comes natural to the writer, that’s the point. It’s not the printing script they teach you in the schools. And it isn’t done laboriously, by way of disguise. It’s the script of somebody accustomed to roughing out head-lines.’
        ‘I see what you mean,’ said Charteris. ‘That’s smart.’
        ‘About this man Fletcher, who had a grievance,’ pursued Monty. ‘He’s gone to live with his father. What’s his father’s profession?’
        ‘I believe he’s head-compositor at a small jobbing printers,’ said Mr Bowles.
        ‘Just the man,’ said Monty. ‘And that word “son” might very