Read Online The Blind Side by Patricia Wentworth - Free Book Online Page B

depended—he’d get away most days by seven in the evening. Mr. Craddock didn’t want him about after that. He preferred being private, as you might say.
    Questions about Mr. Craddock’s habits. “Would you call them irregular?” Peterson didn’t think it was for him to say. Did Mr. Craddock drink? Well, he put away a bit, but it wouldn’t be very often that you’d see him drunk.
    â€œWas he drunk last night?”
    â€œNot when I left him, sir.”
    â€œAnd that was?”
    â€œA quarter past seven. I laid out his things and set the drinks ready on the small table in here, and he said that would be all, and I went home.”
    â€œThat was your usual practice?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œWhat did you set out in the way of drinks?”
    â€œDecanter of whisky, siphon of soda, bottle of champagne, and two glasses.”
    Detective Abbott looked up for a moment, then plied, not the scarlet pen, but one of his own.
    â€œTwo glasses—eh?” said the Inspector sharply.
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œAnd was that the usual thing?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œYou always left two glasses?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œAnd were they always used?”
    â€œNot both of them—only once in a way, sir.”
    â€œAnd were you in the habit of leaving champagne?”
    For the first time Peterson hesitated. Then he said,
    â€œNo, sir—only when Mr. Craddock said so.”
    â€œAnd he told you to leave it last night?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œWell, what did you make of that?”
    Peterson hesitated again, and was prompted.
    â€œDid you take it to mean that he was expecting a lady?”
    â€œI suppose I did, sir.”
    â€œH’m! How much whisky was there in the decanter?”
    â€œIt was full, sir.”
    â€œAny idea how it got broken?”
    â€œNo, sir.”
    The Inspector shifted in his chair.
    â€œWell now, I want to talk about those footprints you said you saw in the hall.”
    â€œI did see them, sir.”
    â€œWhen you first came in?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œRegular footprints?”
    â€œOh, yes, sir.”
    â€œWet, or dry?”
    â€œDry, sir.”
    â€œYou’re sure about that? How can you be sure?”
    Peter cleared his throat.
    â€œThe light’s right overhead, sir, and as soon as I put it on, well, there were the footprints as plain as plain.”
    â€œAnd they were a woman’s footprints?”
    â€œThat’s what I took them to be.”
    â€œWell, what’s happened to them?”
    â€œI don’t know, sir. I came on in here, and when I saw that Mr. Craddock was dead I ran down the stairs for Mr. Rush, and we came back together. And when I come to look for the footprints to show him, well, sir, they weren’t there, no more than what you saw for yourself, sir—a couple of smeared places just short of the rug on this side of the hall, and another over by the door, and the stains on the rug the same as I’d seen them the first time.”
    The Inspector said “H’m!” Then, sharply, “Would you swear you saw those footprints the first time you came up?”
    â€œYes, sir, I would. It’s the truth, sir.”
    â€œWould you swear you didn’t touch them?”
    â€œNot the way you mean, sir. I don’t say I mightn’t have stepped on one of them accidental when I ran down for Mr. Rush. It was—well, it was an awful shock, sir. But stepping on a dry stain wouldn’t smear it like those footprints was smeared.”
    â€œNo,” said the Inspector. “And now—just how long were you away?”
    Peterson looked anxious.
    â€œIt’s very hard to say when you’ve had that kind of a shock. I couldn’t get down quick enough. But Mr. Rush he wasn’t in the hall. He was downstairs making his wife a cup of tea. I had to go down after him.”
    â€œAh!” said the