THE CRIME AT TATTENHAM CORNER (Murder Mystery Classic). Annie Haynes
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Название: THE CRIME AT TATTENHAM CORNER (Murder Mystery Classic)
Автор: Annie Haynes
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 9788075832542
isbn:
"You would have liked to have stopped Perlyon winning? Why?"
Pamela did not beat about the bush. "Because Perlyon belongs to the man I dislike most on earth—Charles Stanyard."
The man laughed, his eyes dwelling on the fair, girlish face that had haunted his dreams for the past month.
"Why do you dislike Stanyard, poor beggar?"
"He is not a poor beggar at all," Pamela said decidedly. "He is a terrible man. He has taken care he is not poor. He has destroyed people's lives and happiness to make himself rich—" Her voice broke.
"What?" The man started violently. "Charles Stanyard has—You are getting at me. Do you know him?"
"No, and I don't mean to," Pamela returned uncompromisingly. "Do you?"
"Yes, I know him rather well," the man said after a moment's pause. "He is not up to much, I admit, but I don't see why you should hate him. I should have said he was a harmless sort of chap."
"Perhaps you would not say he was a harmless sort of chap if he had murdered your father!" Pamela retorted.
"Good Lord! murdered your father!" the man ejaculated. "What sort of a story have you got hold of? I know Charles Stanyard pretty well all through, and, whatever his sins may be, I can assure you he is no murderer."
"Well, I think he is, you see," Pamela returned icily. "Perhaps if it were your father he had killed it would make a difference?"
"But why on earth should Charles Stanyard kill your father?"
"Well, some people would tell you because Peep o' Day—"
"What! You don't mean that you are Sir John Burslem's daughter?"
"I am Pamela Burslem," returned the girl with a little air of dignity. "Ah, now you see why I say Sir Charles Stanyard killed my father!"
"On the contrary," the man said with a certain conviction in his tone, "I am quite positive that he did not!"
"Well, you can stick to your opinions and I can stick to mine!" Pamela finished. "Good-bye. I must go home, only"—with a quiver of her lower lip—"it is not home any longer." She turned away for a moment.
In a couple of strides the man had caught her up. "I cannot let you go like this. You don't know how I have thought of you—longed to meet you again ever since that night I danced with you. May I write to you?"
Just the faintest suspicion of one of Pamela's old dimples peeped out. "You forget that I don't know your name. I should not know who the letter came from."
"You don't know my name?" the man repeated in a dazed tone. "No, I was forgetting. My name is Richard Leyton—Dick my friends call me."
Chapter V
"It is a wicked will; an infamous will!" Old General Percival was the speaker. "I cannot understand my friend, John Burslem, making such a will."
Sir John Burslem's funeral had taken place that morning. By his own wish he had been buried by the side of his first wife in the great cemetery in North London. Neither his second wife nor his daughter had been present and there had been no flowers, by request.
There had been no communication from his brother, the explorer, and it was doubtful whether the telegram had reached him. Lord Carlford and his son, Alan, had been the chief mourners; there had been a great following of friends and acquaintances, of those who had been connected with the dead man, either in the financial or in the racing world. Crowds, full of morbid curiosity, had lined the roads and had filled the cemetery.
There had been no formal reading of the will, but a few of Sir John's oldest friends had returned with Lord Carlford; and then Mr. Weldon had disclosed the disposal of his property, made by Sir John on the night of his death.
General Percival had been the first to break the silence that followed, and as he finished a low murmur of assent ran round the room.
At the same moment Lady Burslem and her stepdaughter, with Lady Carlford and Mrs. Dolphin, entered the room. They seated themselves at the top of the long library table.
General Percival was not to be daunted. When the little confusion caused by the entrance of the new arrivals had subsided, he began again:
"It is an infamous will! You were good enough to tell me that I was one of the executors, Mr. Weldon—I shall refuse to act! If Miss Burslem takes my advice she will contest the will."
"I beg your pardon, general," Mr. Weldon interrupted; "I said that you were one of the executors of the will made by Sir John Burslem directly after his second marriage. This one, drawn up by Sir John himself on the last day of his life, leaves everything to Lady Burslem, and appoints her sole executrix and residuary legatee."
"Disgraceful!" frowned the general. "I wonder you were not ashamed to make such a will, Mr. Weldon, or to produce it now."
"I had nothing to do with the making of it," Mr. Weldon exclaimed. "I thought I had made it plain, general, that the whole of this will is in Sir John's own writing. Whatever our opinion of it may be, it appears to me there is no possible ground for contesting."
"I do not want to contest it," Pamela said, her cheeks and her eyes flashing. "Daddy was quite right to leave his money as he liked. I do not want it; I have plenty of my own."
There was an uncomfortable silence. Mr. Weldon fidgeted with his papers and coughed.
Pamela glanced at him. "Haven't I?" she questioned.
Mr. Weldon looked unhappy.
"Well, my dear Miss Burslem, under your mother's settlement—you must remember that Sir John was a comparatively poor man in those days—you come into a sum of three thousand pounds when you are twenty-one. Until then you will have an allowance of course, but—"
Pamela turned from white to red, back again to white.
"You do not mean that I have no money of my own that I can use now? But I want a lot at once; I want to engage a smart detective to find out—"
Her voice broke in a strangled sob.
Lady Burslem leaned forward and touched her arm.
"It shall make no difference, Pam, not a bit of difference, dear—"
With a gesture of loathing Pamela shook off the caressing hand and turned away. Then like a small torrent of grief she rushed out of the room.
Lord Carlford, a gentleman of the old school, rose and took his daughter's hand.
"Come, my dear, you have heard all that is necessary," with a glance at his wife and elder daughter.
When they had gone Mr. Weldon looked round. "There is no more to be said, gentlemen; this is a very sad affair. СКАЧАТЬ