Read Online The Sussex Downs Murder by John Bude - Free Book Online

ready to give detailed answers to all the Superintendent’s questions. Her evidence, however, was of a negative rather than a positive nature. Only two points seemed to have any direct bearing on Meredith’s investigations. The first was that, in her opinion, William had not reached Chalklands from Littlehampton until nearly half past ten. The second that she herself had taken a walk up to Chanctonbury Ring after John’s departure, and had not returned to the farmhouse until after dark. Probably, she said, about a quarter to ten. She upheld that it was quite usual for her to go off on long tramps like that as she was passionately fond of both walking and the downs themselves. Meredith then asked for a recent photograph of John Rother and brought the interview to an end.
    Kate Abingworth, whom Meredith tackled in the kitchen over a cup of strong tea and a slice of homemade cake, had no concise idea of the time “Mr. Willum had returned that luckless night of Mr. John’s doing-away”. It might have been ten or half past. She remembered, however, that her mistress had come into the house just after the stroke of half past nine. Judy, the maid-of-all-work, left at six, and as she didn’t “sleep in” Mrs. Abingworth didn’t think “as she could give any h’evidence as could be called h’evidence like, her being a stupid girl anyhows and about as much good in the house as a bundill of faggits”!
    â€œAnd what about the night when you saw Mrs. Rother on the lawn with Mr. John—when was that exactly?”
    â€œA Saturday,” said Kate Abingworth promptly.
    â€œYes,” smiled Meredith, “but which Saturday?”
    â€œThe Saturday after Em ’urt her leg over at Arundel on a Thursday. I had a letter from my sister that same morning. Em’s her eldest and a ’andful of mischief at that, surr. Climbing she was over the cow-shed roof and the guttering come away from under her very feet. Lucky she weren’t—”
    â€œQuite,” cut in Meredith, “but what was the date?”
    â€œThe date? Now that I don’t rightly recall, surr. But I still ’av Martha’s letter in my bag. I keep all ’er letters I do, for she writes that funny it’s like a book. She fair makes my ribs ache what with ’er—”
    â€œHave you the letter handy?”
    Kate Abingworth went to a sideboard on which lay a voluminous black hand-bag. After running through its overflowing contents, she drew out the letter and handed it to Meredith. He glanced at the post-mark—July 12th. After a quick calculation he realized that the 12th was a Friday and that the letter had reached Mrs. Abingworth on Saturday, July 13th. So this nocturnal, secret meeting between John and Janet Rother had taken place exactly a week before John set off on his holiday.
    He went on: “You’re quite certain Mrs. Rother had a suit-case in her hand?”
    â€œYes, surr. ’Twas bright moonlight and I saw her ’and it over to ’im as clear as if it had been day.”
    â€œHow was it you happened to be looking out of the window?”
    â€œTouch of newralgy, surr—which comes on me like a visitation off and on, so that what with trying one thing and another I’m always putting my ’and in my pocket to—”
    At that point Meredith felt it politic to draw the interview to a conclusion and, after thanking the housekeeper for his cup of tea, he jumped into his car and set off for Findon.
    Things certainly looked blacker than ever now against William Rother. That faked telegram was obviously his clumsy idea of obtaining an alibi whilst the murder was committed. Granted he went to Littlehampton, visited the hospital, the doctor and his aunt; but between the time of his departure from Littlehampton and his arrival at Chalklands he had committed the crime. Those were the two “times” over which he was uncertain, and