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

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      "Yes, I know. Though I believe in some respects Hepton is unique. Miss Karslake said she had seen pictures of the Abbey which had roused her interest in it. But I have wondered sometimes today—Of course there is nothing in it."

      "Nothing in what?" the inspector said with raised eyebrows.

      "Well, I have wondered today whether she had any special reason for her interest in Hepton. Whether she had met some one from here, years ago, before she was famous."

      Stoddart did not look up. His right hand closed upon his fountain pen so sharply that for a moment he thought he had broken it.

      "You had some reason for thinking this?" he said slowly.

      "Oh, well, I do not know that I really do think it. I am not so definite as that," Lady Moreton qualified. "But I have wondered—I could not help noticing, though I do not know that I did think much of it at the time, that the neighbourhood did seem in some way familiar to Miss Karslake."

      "In what way? Please tell me exactly what occurred?"

      "Well, when I took her up to her room," Lady Moreton said hesitatingly, "she went to the window and exclaimed at the beauty of the view. Her room was at the front of the house, and you could see a long way, you know, as far as the Welsh hills on a clear day. Well, she stood gazing out for a minute or two, then she said suddenly, 'Why, the big oak over there by Craxton Church has gone!' I was naturally surprised. 'How in the world did you know that?' I said. The oak had gone before ever I came to Hepton."

      "What did she say?" A new note of interest had crept into the inspector's voice.

      "Oh, she rather drew back and said she had been looking at an old print in which the oak-tree was very conspicuous, and that she had noticed it as a particularly magnificent tree. And she had remembered the name, Craxton, because she thought it an odd name and wondered if it was characteristic of the county. Though I do not see how it could be," Lady Moreton finished. "Then we talked of other things and I was called away."

      "Craxton—that is a village or hamlet some miles from Hepton, isn't it?" the inspector said reflectively. "Now, Lady Moreton, can you tell me anything else you talked of with Miss Karslake?"

      Lady Moreton shook her head. "The rest was mere chit-chat. Except—oh, yes, I told her to bring her jewels after the dance to be put into the safe. She laughed and said hers would not be worth putting in with the exception of her mascot, the sapphire ball, which she always wore. 'Even at night,' she said, 'the chain is always round my neck.' I can't remember anything else she said. But I had my other visitors to look after. As hostess, I could not devote myself to any one guest."

      "Quite!" The inspector looked at his notes again. "I take it that you saw no sign of acquaintanceship between Miss Karslake and any other member of your party."

      "No, I am sure they were all strangers to her," Lady Moreton said quickly. "I know she said laughingly that she would probably be a wallflower as she had no partner. As a matter of fact I was besieged by requests for introductions to her."

      "Naturally!" the inspector assented. "That is all then for the present, Lady Moreton. Eventually I shall have to interrogate every one who slept in the house last night. But I will just see Miss Karslake's maid now, and then go over the room again before I do anything else."

      He went to the door and opened it as he spoke. Lady Moreton got up, almost to stumble in her eagerness to get out of the room. In the hall Sir Arthur took her arm and led her into his sanctum opposite.

      Inspector Stoddart looked at one of his men outside. "Send Miss Karslake's maid to me," he ordered curtly.

      He left the library door open. The maid did not keep him waiting. Before he had had time to glance again at his notes a trim, coquettish little figure appeared in the doorway.

      "You desire—what you say—speak with me, sare?"

      There was no mistaking the voice, the accent, the dainty perfection of the black frock. The inspector's eyes brightened. This was the type of witness with whom vanity made it easy to deal. He drew the easy chair in which Lady Moreton had been sitting into the circle of light by the fire-place. Then he said as he took the chair opposite:

      "That is what I should have said a few minutes ago, Mademoiselle Marie. But now that I have seen you the wish has become an overmastering desire."

      The maid bridled. "But my name is not Marie," she said, looking down at her little buckled shoes discreetly. "It is Celestine Dubois—Celeste, for short," raising her eyes and giving him a sudden, bewildering smile.

      An answering smile appeared on the inspector's face. "Mademoiselle Celeste, then."

      "Ah, yes. Dat is better."

      Celeste settled herself in her chair and lowered her white eyelids discreetly. She knew the value of her smiles too well to be prodigal of them.

      "Well, monsieur?"

      "You have been Miss Karslake's maid since her coming to England?"

      "Ah, yes, monsieur. Before dat, too, when she was acting in New York. I have been wis Mees Karslake, it is eight mons now."

      "Ah, indeed!" The inspector's eyes brightened.

      "Now, have you any idea whether your mistress had ever been in England before?"

      Celeste wrinkled up her brows. "Now it is funny dat you should ask me dat, monsieur. For I 'ave said to myself many times since we came to London zat it is extraordinaire that Mademoiselle should know de English ways and de names of so many places. One day she take me wis her in a taxi, and wen it put us down, Mees Karslake, she just walk straight on witout stopping trough dirty little back streets to what you call a musty, fusty old church. Den she tell me to sit down in de porch and she will go in. But I will not sit down—it is all too dirty, and walk about outside. Zen a man in a black gown—a servant of ze church come along to talk to me and I talk to him and de time pass a bit more quickly, but it is long, oh, very long before Mademoiselle come out. When she do, I see zat she has been weeping; when we are in the taxi she say she have been upset because her grandfather is buried in zat church. I do not say anything, but to myself I laugh. I would not weep one little bit if I saw the place vere all my granfazers and granmozers are buried—me."

      The inspector smiled. "I don't suppose you would. Do you remember the name of this church, mademoiselle?"

      The maid shook her head. "I did never hear it. But I wish—I sink I would know it if I saw it."

      "Ah, well, perhaps some day we will take you to see it," the inspector said quickly. "Now, mademoiselle, will you tell us all that you know of Miss Karslake's death?"

      "Me! Me!" Celeste almost bounced out of her chair in her indignation. "I know nosin—nosin at all. Two days ago Mees Karslake, she tell me to pack her sings for dis ball, and I am pleased, for it is triste always in this land of fogs, when one goes out novere. But if I had known—"

      "You would not have been pleased," the inspector suggested.

      "No—and again no!" Celeste said emphatically. "But zen I am. And my Mademoiselle has one lovely frock for it—all gold—gold tissue, and she looks ravishing in it. It is a pleasure to dress her."

      "You came down by train, I understand?"

      Celeste СКАЧАТЬ