THE CRYSTAL BEADS MURDER (Murder Mystery for Inspector Stoddart). Annie Haynes

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ jerk at the stark form under the sheet--"the two men and Jones and a gardener that was passing. I gave a hand, steadying the stretcher and helping when they laid it on. But I don't see--I do not see"--pausing and endeavouring apparently to recall the scene--"as any of them had the chance to put those beads in the pocket, even if they wanted to, which don't seem likely."

      It did not. As the inspector closed the door of the barn behind them his eyes had a puzzled, far-away look.

      "Did you know the gardener who helped you?" Stoddart inquired as they crossed the churchyard and turned in at the private gate into the Holford grounds.

      "No, I don't know as I do; he isn't a Holford man," the superintendent said, his broad, red face wearing the look of bewilderment that had come over it when he saw the beads. "He was just working in the rosery and saw them bring the ambulance, and came along to find out if he could help. He were likely enough one of the young men that's here to learn a bit of gardening from Mr. Macdonald, and lives up at the cottage at the back of the glass-houses."

      "I see!" The inspector made a note in his book. "We will just have a word with this gardener. Who is that?"

      "That" was a young man who had come out of the Hall and was walking a little way down the path across the lawn at a brisk pace. Seeing them, he had hesitated a minute, and then turned off sharply towards the big entrance gates.

      The superintendent stared after him.

      "That--that is young Mr. Courtenay, his lordship's cousin. I should ha' said he didn't want to see us."

      "So should I!" the inspector assented grimly. "But unfortunately, as it happens, since the desire is apparently not mutual, Mr. Harold Courtenay is a young gentleman I particularly wish to interview. I fancy striking over here by the pine trees we shall manage to intercept him."

      He set off at a brisk pace, Harbord by his side, the burly superintendent puffing and blowing behind.

      They emerged from the grove of trees at the side of the Hall immediately in front of Harold Courtenay.

      That young gentleman looked amazed to see them step out on the walk in front of him. The inspector, glancing at him keenly, fancied that he saw discomposure mingling with the surprise.

      He went forward.

      "Mr. Harold Courtenay, I think? I should be glad if I might have a few words with you."

      Harold Courtenay glanced round as if seeking some way of escape, but nothing presenting itself apparently resigned himself to the inevitable.

      "Inspector Stoddart, I think, isn't it? My cousin told me you had come down. I am quite at your service, inspector."

      "Thank you, Mr. Courtenay."

      Young Courtenay was looking very ill, the inspector thought. His face was sickly grey beneath its tan, his eyes had a scared, furtive look, two or three times his mouth twitched oddly to one side as the inspector watched him.

      "Just a question or two I wanted to put to you," Stoddart went on. "Later on there may be other things, but now I shall not detain you more than a minute or two."

      "That's all right," Courtenay said at once. "If anything I can tell you will help you I shall be only too glad. I am only afraid it won't. I had no idea even that Saunderson was likely to be in the neighbourhood last night." He stopped and swallowed something in his throat. "He was rather by way of being a friend of mine, you know, inspector."

      Stoddart nodded, his keen eyes never relaxing their watch on the young man's face.

      "So I have heard. When did you last see him, Mr. Courtenay?"

      The young man hesitated a moment.

      "Oh, just a few days ago," he said vaguely. "The beginning of the week, I think it was. Monday evening, I remember now. I called at his flat."

      "Did he tell you he was coming down here in the near future?" the inspector questioned.

      Courtenay shook his head. "Never even mentioned Holford so far as I can remember."

      "Did he speak of anyone or anything that could have had any bearing on last night's tragedy?"

      "Certainly not!" Courtenay said with decision.

      "We only spoke on the most ordinary topics."

      "Can you remember any of those topics?" the inspector questioned.

      Harold Courtenay waited a moment before answering.

      "Nothing much," he said slowly. "Most of the time it was about racing. We both of us cursed Battledore for letting us down over the St. Leger. And Saunderson said somebody had given him a tip for the autumn double--Cesarewitch and the Cambridgeshire, you know--White Flower and Dark Mouth; and he said he shouldn't do it, though the chap that told him generally knew what he was talking about. Dark Mouth is French--he'd never fancied a French horse, he said, since Epinard let him down over the Cambridgeshire."

      "Did you tell him you were coming here?"

      "N--o! I don't think so," the young man said with a momentary indecision that did not escape the inspector's keen eyes. "No, as a matter of fact I don't think I knew that I was coming here myself then."

      "When did you come?" the inspector asked. "In the afternoon of Thursday, wasn't it?"

      "Yes, by the 3.30 from Derby to Holford." There was a certain relief in Courtenay's tone now. His eyes met Stoddart's openly.

      "And Saunderson--when did he come?" the inspector said quickly.

      "Saunderson?" Courtenay stared at him. "I don't know. I don't know anything about him. I couldn't believe it when I heard he was lying dead in the summer-house."

      "When did you hear?" The inspector looked straight at the young man as he put the question.

      "Why, when the gardener came up and told us all." Courtenay looked down and shifted his feet about on the gravel uncertainly.

      The inspector brought out his notebook. "Now, Mr. Courtenay, this is just a matter of course. I have nearly finished. What were you doing between nine and ten o'clock last night, and where were you?"

      "Ten o'clock last night?" Courtenay repeated, kicking up a big bit of gravel. "Well, the Medchesters had some neighbours in to dinner and of course there were a few of us staying in the house, and afterwards we had a rubber of bridge in the card-room. I meant to take a hand, but I cut out, and after I'd watched the play a bit I went into the billiard-room with a couple of other men and knocked the balls about. Later on I went back to the card-room and had a game. Landed a pound or two, too--my luck was in."

      "How long were you in the billiard-room?"

      Courtenay, having got up his piece of gravel, kicked it off into the grass.

      "Oh, it might have been half an hour or so, or maybe it might have been a bit longer. I couldn't tell you nearer than that," he said carelessly, but his eyes from beneath their heavy lids shot an odd glance at the inspector as he spoke.

      Stoddart's quick fingers were making notes. He was not looking at Courtenay now.

      "Who were СКАЧАТЬ