Read Online Jack on the Gallows Tree by Leo Bruce - Free Book Online

armchair and came over to him.
    â€œI know,” he said, “the scene of the crime! That’s where you’re going this bright morning, isn’t it?”
    It was, and Carolus admitted it.
    â€œCouldn’t be cornier, could it? I suppose if you’d gone out on the day after the murder you’d have been looking for footprints.”
    â€œQuite likely. The police were. And found them. I’m not going to look for anything in particular, but I would like to see the place. It’s four miles out on the Lilbourne road.”
    They climbed into the Bentley Continental and left the Royal Hydro, grey and grandiose even on that cheerful morning.
    â€œI must say I’ve never known you take a case so casually,” remarked Rupert. “It must have been days before you began at all and now you don’t seem properly steamed up. Yet it’s a pretty brutal thing.”
    â€œI don’t feel any responsibility, this time,” said Carolus.“John Moore’s in charge and he’s perfectly able to do the job. At present I’m almost dabbling.”
    The banks between which they ran were yellow with primroses and at one point they could see stretching between the trees the haze of bluebells.
    After three miles Carolus began to drive slowly, looking for the quarry on his left. They nearly missed it, for the cart-track leading to it was half-hidden by the bursting bushes.
    â€œThis is where the car must have stood—just off the verge, because it left no tyre-marks.”
    â€œDo you suppose it was her car?”
    â€œProbably but there’s no certainty of that. No one seems to have seen it. Yet that cottage overlooks the spot.”
    â€œSo the body was dragged from here to the quarry?”
    â€œApparently, yes. Quite a distance, but she wasn’t a heavy woman. One thing is quite certain—it was carefully planned. The murderer must have brought his props with him unless … let’s go across to that cottage.”
    It was a small double-fronted cottage and a brick path led up to its front door. This did not look as though it had been opened for years and the windows to right and left of it, with lace curtains and plants in them, looked hermetically sealed. Carolus knocked, but there was no response. He tried again, and was about to turn away when he saw that a tall angular woman had appeared from the back of the premises and was watching him in sullen silence.
    â€œYes?” she said.
    Her dark hair hung untidily round her face and she wore an apron of sacking. A forbidding-looking woman.
    â€œI’m sorry to trouble you …” began Carolus.
    â€œIt’s the murder again, is it? I thought I’d done with that. What do you want this time? I’ve got my washing to do.”
    She spoke in a raw aggrieved voice, yet there was somethingsuggesting that under her surly manner she was not as unfriendly as she seemed.
    â€œI wondered if I might ask you a few questions, Mrs …”
    â€œGoggs. I suppose you can. There’s no law against asking questions, is there? You better come in, only you’ll have to come the back way. Mind that bucket.”
    She led them into one of the front rooms, which was so dark that it took Carolus a few moments to find his way to the chair she indicated. The room smelt of cheese, soap, damp and flower-pots, with a faint faraway odour of ancient meals.
    â€œYes, I didn’t think I’d have any more of it,” said Mrs Goggs, “not after the questions they asked last time. Anyone would think I’d done for the poor woman myself or my husband had. What is it you want to know?”
    â€œFirst of course, did you hear anything that night?”
    â€œNo. Only the dog.”
    â€œThe dog?”
    â€œYes. Don’t you know about that? I told all the others. We were sitting in the kitchen at the time …”
    â€œWhat
time?”
    â€œDon’t ask me that. It’s