Annie Haynes Premium Collection – 8 Murder Mysteries in One Volume. Annie Haynes

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      Chapter XXV

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      Talgarth was a pleasant old-fashioned house. Tradition had it that it had been built out of the stones from the walls of the convent that had stood close by, and that had been pillaged and destroyed by the orders of the eighth Henry. For the past twenty years Squire Hunter, from whom Stephen Crasster bought Talgarth, had not had money to keep the old place up, and it had acquired a forlorn, neglected look. Stephen Crasster had projected wide-spreading improvements, but the tidings of Peggy's engagement had taken the heart out of him.

      Inspector Furnival found Stephen in the library when, in response to repeated invitations, he walked over to Talgarth one summer evening.

      Crasster sprang up in surprise as "Mr. Lennox" was announced.

      "Why, inspector, this is a welcome surprise," he said, shaking hands cordially. "I have been looking over the notes of a case and trying to make up my mind about it. You are just in the nick of time to give me some help with it."

      "Well, I don't know that I shall be of much assistance, sir. It seems to me that my brain is pretty well addled." The inspector laughed as he took the chair that Crasster indicated opposite to his own. "As a matter of fact I have come up hoping that you would let me talk over one or two little matters with you—things that are puzzling me a bit."

      "Are they in connection with the Abbey Court case?" Crasster's face had grown suddenly grave. His hand, as he resumed his seat, beat a restless tattoo on the arm of his chair. "Well, inspector, what is it? Anything fresh?"

      "Well, it is and it isn't, sir," the inspector replied enigmatically. He drew out his notebook, and, extracting an envelope, handed it to Stephen. "This came by this morning's post."

      Stephen looked at it curiously. It was addressed to Mr. Lennox at the Carew Arms, in odd-looking handwriting—one that sloped backwards and was evidently disguised.

      "Well?" he said at last inquiringly. "What sort of a communication is this, inspector? One would say at first sight that your correspondent did not wish to be identified."

      The inspector smiled. "Precisely the case, I fancy, sir. However, will you read the enclosure?"

      Crasster made an involuntary movement of distaste as he drew out the thin oblong sheet of paper, and saw the crooked misshapen writing inside:

      "If Inspector Furnival wishes to inquire into Lady Carew's antecedents he will be able to get all the information he requires from Canon Rankin of St. Barnabas' Vicarage, Chelsea. The Canon might also be questioned with regard to a mysterious visitor who came in one day this spring. These hints may be more useful to Inspector Furnival than anything he will obtain from the maid, Célestine, and they are offered for his consideration by a well-wisher."

      Stephen read the rancorous words over twice, then he flicked the paper on the table contemptuously.

      "From Célestine herself?" he hazarded.

      The inspector smiled as he shook his head. "No, Célestine hasn't discovered my real business yet. That paper was bought in Chesterham village, sir. I made it my business as soon as this epistle arrived to go round all the little shops in the neighbourhood and discover, if possible, where it was purchased. I ran it to earth at an old dame's in Chesterham village. I laid in a stock of it myself, and the old lady was quite pleased, and said she would have to order extra supplies, as it was quite wonderful how the gentry were taking to it."

      Stephen raised his eyebrows. "Gentry?" he questioned gently.

      The inspector laughed. "She said that a lady who was staying at General Wilton's a week or two ago came in one afternoon and bought a whole box."

      "You surely don't mean—" said Stephen.

      Inspector Furnival nodded. "Lady Palmer, sir. There can't be any question about that. I have compared the writing too, with a specimen of hers that I managed to get, and I don't feel any doubt at all that it is hers. My mind might not have gone straight to her, though, but for Célestine," he added candidly. "She told me one day how Lady Palmer was always asking her questions about Lady Carew, and now she is a widow, and none too well off, and Sir Anthony has come into the title and estates, nothing would suit Lady Palmer better than to get rid of Lady Carew. Do you take me, sir?"

      Crasster did not answer for a minute. He sat looking at the paper; at last he raised his eyes.

      "How could Lady Palmer have become possessed of the information that this note presupposes?"

      The inspector shrugged his shoulders. "It is impossible to say, sir, otherwise than that probably Célestine on her dismissal from Heron's Carew did not hold her tongue. However, that is neither here nor there. I brought this note to you to show you that our time is short. Something will have to be done soon."

      Stephen got up and threw open the window as though the atmosphere stifled him.

      "The woman must be a perfect fiend!"

      The inspector smiled as one tolerant of the idiosyncrasies of the weaker sex.

      "Ah, well, sir, when jealousy gets hold of a woman! There is something else I have got to show you, Mr. Crasster." He СКАЧАТЬ