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

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СКАЧАТЬ Jim, this is an unexpected pleasure! What has brought you up to town?"

      The clergyman looked at him doubtfully as their hands met.

      "The usual thing--worry! I came up to consult you, to ask if you could help me."

      The solicitor glanced at him keenly, then he turned to the revolving chair before his desk and motioned his visitor to the one opposite.

      "Tony again?" he questioned, as his visitor seated himself.

      The clergyman waited a minute, twirling his soft hat about in his hands as he held it between his knees.

      "Tony again!" he assented at last. "It isn't the lad's fault, Luke, I truly believe. He can't get a job that suits him. Those two years at the War played ruination with the young men just beginning life. Tony would make a good soldier. But he doesn't seem to fit in anywhere else."

      "Then why doesn't he enlist?" Luke Bechcombe snapped out.

      "His mother," Mr. Collyer said quietly. "She would never have a moment's peace."

      Luke Bechcombe pushed back his glasses and stared at his brother-in-law for a moment. Then he nodded his head slowly. The Rev. James Collyer's statement was true enough he knew--none better. Mrs. Collyer was his sister; the terrible anxiety of those last dreadful days of the Great War, when her only son had been reported wounded and missing for months, had played havoc with her heart. Tony Collyer had had a hot time of it in one of the prisoners' camps in Germany; he had been gassed as well as badly wounded, and he had come back a shadow of his old self. His mother had nursed him back to health and sanity, but the price had been the invalid couch that had stood ever since in the Rectory morning-room. No. Tony Collyer could never enlist in his mother's lifetime. The same applied to emigration. Tony must get a job at home, and England, the home of heroes, had no use for her heroes now. There had been times when Tony envied those comrades of his whose graves lay in Flanders' soil.

      They, at any rate, had not lived to know that they were little better than nuisances in the land for which they had fought and died. He had had several jobs, but in every one of them he had been a square peg in a round hole. They had all been clerkships of one kind or another and Tony had hated them all. Nevertheless he had conscientiously done his best for some time. Latterly, however, Tony had taken to slacking. He had met with some of his old companions of the Great War and had spent more money than he could afford. Three times already his father had paid his debts, taxing his resources to the utmost to do so. Each time Tony had promised reformation and amendment, but each time the result had been the same. Small wonder that the rector's hair was rapidly whitening, that every day seemed to make new lines on his fresh-coloured, pleasant face.

      His brother-in-law glanced at him sympathetically now.

      "What is Tony doing just at present?"

      "Nothing, most of the time," his father said bitterly. "But I hear this morning that he has been offered a post as bear-leader to the younger brother of a friend of his. I gather the lad is a trifle defective."

      "Must be, I should think. His friends too, I imagine," Luke Bechcombe barked gruffly.

      The implication was unmistakable. The rector sighed uneasily.

      "I have faith, you know, Luke, that the boy will come right in the end. He is the child of many prayers."

      "Umph!" Mr. Bechcombe sat drumming his fingers on the writing-pad before him. "Why don't you let him pay his debts out of his salary?"

      The clergyman stirred uneasily.

      "He couldn't. And there are things that must be met at once--debts of honour, he calls them. But that is enough, Luke. I mean to give the boy a clean start this time, and I think he will go straight. He has an inducement now that he has never had before."

      "Good heavens! Not a girl?" Luke Bechcombe ejaculated.

      Mr. Collyer bent his head.

      "Yes, I hope so. A very charming girl too, I believe."

      "Who is she?"

      "I do not suppose I shall be betraying confidence if I tell you," the clergyman debated. "You will have to know soon, I expect. Her name is Cecily Hoyle."

      "Good heavens!" The lawyer sat back and stared at him. "Do you mean my secretary?"

      "Your secretary," Mr. Collyer acquiesced. "She is a nice girl, isn't she, Luke?"

      "Niceness doesn't matter in a secretary," the solicitor said gruffly. "She types and takes shorthand notes very satisfactorily. As for looks she is nothing particular. Madeline took care of that--always does! In fact she engaged her for me. Still, she is a taking little thing. How the deuce did Tony get hold of her?"

      The clergyman shook his head.

      "I don't know. He only spoke of her the other day. But it will be good for the lad, Luke. I believe it is the genuine thing."

      "Genuine thing! Good for the lad!" Luke Bechcombe repeated scornfully. "Tony can't keep himself. How is he going to keep my secretary?"

      "Tony can work if he likes," his father maintained stoutly. "And if he has some one to work for I think he will."

      "Girl won't take him. She has too much sense," growled the solicitor.

      "Oh, I think she has given Tony some reason to hope."

      "She is as big a fool as he is then," Mr. Bechcombe said with asperity. "But Tony isn't the only one of the family on matrimony bent. What do you think of Aubrey Todmarsh?"

      "Aubrey Todmarsh!" repeated the rector of Wexbridge in amazed accents. "I should have thought matrimony would have been the last thing to enter his head. His whole life seems to be bound up in that community of his."

      "Not so bound up but that he still has a very good eye to the main chance," retorted Luke Bechcombe. "He is not thinking of a penniless secretary! He's after money, is Mr. Aubrey. What do you think of Mrs. Phillimore?"

      "Mrs. Phillimore! The rich American widow! She must be much too old for him."

      "Old enough to be his mother, I dare say. She is pretty well made up, though, and that doesn't matter to Aubrey as long as she has got the money. She has been financing these wildcat schemes of his lately. But I suppose he thinks the whole would suit him better than part."

      "But are they really engaged?"

      "Oh, nothing quite so definite yet. But I am expecting the announcement every day. Hello!"--as an intermittent clicking made itself heard--"there's your future daughter-in-law at work. That's the typewriter."

      Mr. Collyer started.

      "You don't mean that she has been able to hear what we have been saying?"

      Mr. Bechcombe laughed.

      "Hardly! That would be delightful in a solicitor's office. She sits in that little room at the side, but there is no communicating door and of course she can't hear what goes on here. The door is in the top passage, past my private entrance. I didn't expect to hear her machine, but there is something particularly penetrating about a typewriter. However, it is really very faint and I have got quite used to it. Would you like to see her?"

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