WHO KILLED CHARMIAN KARSLAKE? (Murder Mystery Classic). Annie Haynes

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      Sir Arthur shrugged his shoulders. "Ask me another. Why does any woman ever do anything? They made one another's acquaintance somehow, I really don't know how, and apparently took a fancy to one another. Miss Karslake was enormously interested in antiquities of all kinds, and the Abbey is distinctly unique, you know. Lady Moreton talked about it, and when the idea of this ball was mooted she asked Miss Karslake to come down for it and take the opportunity of seeing the Abbey. She was gratified, and I may say almost surprised at Miss Karslake's acceptance."

      "Was she interested in the Abbey when she arrived?"

      "Oh, yes. I think so—" Sir Arthur hesitated again. "As a matter of fact she had not much opportunity of expressing her interest in anything. The house was—well, in the state a house generally is when a big entertainment is about to take place in it. I promised to show her over it next morning, when it was, alas, too late!"

      The inspector's penetrating glance was still fixed upon Sir Arthur.

      "You have no clue to this apparently inexplicable mystery?"

      Sir Arthur shook his head. "Not the faintest. Miss Karslake was an absolute stranger to me and, as far as I know, to every one in the house. I can only suggest that the motive may have been robbery, since the great sapphire ball she always wore, and which is generally spoken of as her mascot, is missing."

      "Any other jewels?"

      "Her maid seems to think not. She wore a quaint old necklace of pearls at the dance and apparently threw it, and a magnificent marquise ring she generally wore, on her dressing-table. All are quite safe."

      "With regard to the blue ball," the inspector questioned again, "it is, of course, of great value."

      Sir Arthur looked doubtful. "I really don't know. I am no judge of such things, but I should imagine a great part of its value came from its historic association, and that of course would not exist from a burglar's point of view. At the same time it has brought bad luck to most of its possessors as far as I can ascertain. When first one hears of it, it was the property of the ill-fated Paul of Russia. Later it passed to the hapless Princess de Lamballe and the murdered Queen Draga of Serbia, to name just a few of the unfortunate possessors. How it came into the possession of Miss Karslake I have no idea. But I have heard that, though she had been warned that misfortune always followed in its train, Charmian Karslake laughed at the very notion and said that it was going to be her mascot, and would bring her nothing but good. Since her coming to England, the fact that she invariably wore it has often been commented upon in the papers and may have attracted the cupidity of some of the criminal classes."

      "Quite!" The inspector stroked his chin. "Of course it would be obvious that the chance of getting hold of it would be far better here than in town, but there must have been more valuable jewels worn here than that ball."

      Sir Arthur smiled. "Decidedly there were. To go no further, Lady Moreton's pearls must have been worth ten times the amount, to say nothing of Mrs. Richard's diamonds. But these were put into the safe. I offered to take care of the sapphire, but Miss Karslake laughingly told me she wore it day and night."

      The inspector nodded. "Any money missing, Sir Arthur? Any valuables from anyone else in the house?"

      "Nothing at all, as far as we can ascertain."

      The inspector rose. "I'm very much obliged to you, Sir Arthur. Now, if you please, we will have a look at the scene of the crime and then I shall be glad to have a few minutes' conversation with the different members of the house-party."

      "The—the body has been moved, inspector, to the private chapel on the north side of the house. It was removed after Superintendent Bower had made his examination."

      The inspector's lips tightened. "H'm! that's a pity. Still, possibly it was unavoidable under the circumstances. I should like to have a word with your butler, Sir Arthur."

      "Brook? Oh, certainly. He shall take you up to the room." Sir Arthur opened the door as he spoke. "Ah, there you are, Brook. Take these gentlemen up to Miss Karslake's room."

      "Yes, Sir Arthur."

      The butler was a man of middle age. Ordinarily no doubt as impassive as most of his kind, today he was shaken out of his usual calm. His face had a mottled, unhealthy appearance. As he turned to precede them Stoddart saw that his eyes looked frightened, that his hands were shaking. He led the way upstairs and down a passage immediately opposite. At the first door they came to a policeman was stationed, and as he moved aside at a word from Stoddart they saw that the door had been broken open.

      The inspector stepped softly over to the bed. Harbord followed. He looked at it for a moment, then he glanced at the inspector.

      "She was not killed here, sir. Not on this bed, I mean."

      "No, the assassin must have moved her." Stoddart pointed to a rug before the fire-place. "She was standing over there, I think."

      Harbord turned his attention to the place indicated. The rug had evidently been kicked aside. On the polished floor beyond there were evident traces of bloodstains.

      The inspector took a tiny pill-box from his pocket and shook it over the blood. After a minute or two he picked it up and signalled to Harbord, who was leaning over the window-sill, microscope in hand.

      He looked round. "No one got out of this window!"

      "No," said the inspector slowly. "No, I'm afraid they did not."

      Chapter III

       Table of Contents

      "Well, you may say what you like about the police methods of this country, but I do believe in the States we should have laid our hands on the murderer before now."

      Mrs. Richard Penn-Moreton was the speaker. She, her sister-in-law and hostess, and the latter's great friend, Paula Galbraith, were in the morning-room.

      Like all the rooms at the Abbey it was rather small, the walls were thick, the windows high up and many paned, with the lead casing and the old grey bottleglass that the Penn-Moretons prided themselves on replacing.

      The present Lady Moreton had a sense of the fitness of things. The old stone walls were untouched, un-desecrated by modern prints or photographs. Some fine old carving surmounted the high mantelpiece, wonderful Gobelin tapestry hung opposite. The oak floor was polished by the elbow grease of centuries. Eastern prayer-rugs took the place of carpets. There were two or three big arm-chairs; and a luxuriously padded chesterfield stood before the fire-place. For the rest, the chairs, like the various occasional tables that stood about, were of oak. A great brass bowl of Parma violets was under the window, and a big bunch of sweet-smelling roses near the open fire-place, in which a bright fire burned, though the night fell hot and airless.

      Lady Moreton was sitting huddled up in one corner of the chesterfield. Usually a bright, sparkling little brunette, tonight all her colour had faded—even her lips were pale—there were deep, blue lines under her eyes. She glanced up at her sister-in-law.

      "I don't know what they would do in your country, I am sure, Sadie," she said wearily. "But, before you blame our police for not discovering the murderer, you must make sure a murder has been committed. I don't believe anybody would hurt Charmian Karslake. Why should they? I believe that gun СКАЧАТЬ