THE CROW'S INN TRAGEDY (Murder Mystery Classic). Annie Haynes

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СКАЧАТЬ sort of quiet recreation ground. I often take sandwiches with me and eat them there."

      The inspector nodded. There were many such places in London he knew.

      "And I suppose Mr. Anthony Collyer soon overtook you?"

      "No. He didn't. He--I had to wait in the Field of Rest."

      "How long?"

      "I don't really know," Cecily said uncertainly. "Perhaps it wasn't very long. But it seemed a long time to me."

      The inspector looked at her.

      "This is important. Please think, Miss Hoyle. This is very important. How long approximately do you think it was before Mr. Anthony Collyer joined you in the Field of Rest?"

      "Twenty minutes perhaps--or it might have been half an hour."

      The inspector looked surprised.

      "Half an hour! But that's a long time. What excuse did Mr. Collyer make for being so long?"

      "He said he couldn't find the Field of Rest. He hadn't been there before, you know."

      The inspector made no rejoinder. He turned back to his notes.

      "What time did you come back to the office, Miss Hoyle?"

      "We were a little over an hour," Cecily confessed. "After half-past one, it would be."

      "Did Mr. Collyer go back with you?"

      Cecily shook her head.

      "Oh, no. He walked as far as Crow's Inn--up to the archway with me."

      The inspector was drawing a small parcel from his pocket. Laying back the tissue paper he slowly shook out the white glove he shown to John Wallis.

      "Have you ever seen this before, Miss Hoyle?"

      The girl leaned forward and looked at it more closely.

      "No, I am sure I have not."

      "It is not yours?"

      Cecily shook her head.

      "I could not afford anything like that. It is a very expensive glove--French I should say."

      "That glove was found beside the writing-table in Mr. Bechcombe's private room this afternoon," the inspector said impressively.

      Cecily looked amazed.

      "What an extraordinary thing! I don't believe it was there when I was in this morning. I wonder who could have dropped it?"

      "Possibly the murderer or murderess," the inspector suggested dryly.

      Cecily shivered back in her chair with a little cry.

      "It cannot be true! Who would hurt Mr. Bechcombe? He must have had a fit!"

      "Miss Hoyle"--the inspector leaned forward--"it was no fit. Mr. Bechcombe was certainly murdered, and Dr. Hackett says that death must have overtaken him either a few minutes before twelve or a few minutes after."

      "What!" Cecily's face became ghastly as the full significance of the words dawned upon her. "It couldn't--" she said, catching her breath in a sob. "He--he was quite well at twelve o'clock, and when I came back from my lunch I heard him moving about."

      "Could you hear what went on in his room in yours?"

      "Oh, no. Absolutely nothing. But as I passed his door when I came back from lunch I distinctly heard him moving about. I was rather surprised at this, because I don't remember ever hearing any sound from Mr. Bechcombe's room before."

      "What did you do after you went back?"

      "I finished some letters that had to be ready for Mr. Bechcombe's signature before he went home. I was still busy with them when I heard them breaking into Mr. Bechcombe's room."

      "Now one more question, Miss Hoyle. Did you notice anything particular about Mr. Anthony Collyer's hands when you first saw him?"

      Cecily stared.

      "Certainly I did not. Why?"

      "He did not wear gloves?"

      "Oh, dear, no!" Cecily almost smiled, "I should certainly have noticed if he had. I have never seen Tony in gloves since I knew him."

      The inspector's stylo was moving quickly in his notebook.

      "You are prepared to swear to all this, Miss Hoyle?"

      "Certainly I am!" Cecily said at once. "It is absolutely true."

      "Your address, please."

      "Hobart Residence, Windover Square. It is a club for girls," she added.

      "But your permanent home address," the detective went on.

      There was a pause. The girl's long eyelashes flickered.

      "My father is away on some business abroad; when he comes back we shall look for a cottage in the country."

      "Oh!" The inspector asked no more questions, but there was a curious look in his eyes as he scrawled another entry in his book.

      "That is all for the present, then, Miss Hoyle. The inquest will be opened to-morrow, and you may be wanted. I cannot say."

      He rose. Cecily got up at once and with a little farewell bow went out of the room.

      The inspector stood still for a minute or two, then he opened the door again.

      "Call Mr. William Spencer, please."

      Ordinarily Mr. Spencer was a jaunty; self-satisfied young man, but to-day both the jauntiness and the self-satisfaction were gone and it was with a very white and subdued face that he came up to the inspector.

      "Well, Mr. Spencer, and what have you to tell me about this terrible affair?" the inspector began conversationally.

      "Nothing; except what you know. I heard the governor tell Mr. Thompson not to let anyone into his room, and I heard no more until Mr. Walls asked me to go round to the private door."

      "You were the first to see the body, I understand."

      "Well, looking through the keyhole, I saw a heap and I told Mr. Walls I thought it was the governor."

      "Exactly!" The inspector looked at his notes. "You were right, unfortunately. Now, Mr. Spencer, have you ever seen this?" suddenly displaying the white glove he had previously shown.

      Mr. Spencer's eyes grew round.

      "I--I don't know."

      "What do you mean by that?" the inspector questioned. "Have you any reason to suppose you have done so?"

      Spencer stared at it.

      "I met a lady with long gloves like СКАЧАТЬ