Scarecrow. Dorothy Fielding

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ was for it, if she had stayed!" said Norbury, getting up.

      "How did you come on these?"

      "The British Club at Menton sent them with a cart-load of others. I always buy their thrown-out newspapers. It was mere chance, as I was cutting them into squares, that the likeness struck me, and then I saw that one of the brother—of Blythe—and knew!"

      "And do you also know, what you are going to do?" asked Inskipp.

      "Nothing," Norbury replied with conviction, "unless keeping silence is doing something. She's greatly to be pitied," he went on after a moment. "A wealthy woman—turned into an outcast."

      "Wealthy?" Inskipp asked. An idea had struck him.

      "Very. The coroner made a lot of capital out of the fact that each death was tremendously to her advantage. Her husband had left everything to her, except a large bequest to his sister—he only had the one—which, if the latter died unmarried before his wife, was to go to the wife. Mrs. Whin-Browning had had no settlements made on her when she married."

      "So that, before the casualties, the lady hadn't much money?"

      "Not a penny piece, except as her husband allowed it to her. The coroner made a lot of that too. She must have around eighty thousand now—which she can't touch." Norbury pulled the stack of papers towards himself and began to look them over.

      "Remember, I have your word to keep this discovery of mine to yourself! I I shall burn these papers."

      "May I keep them for a bit? An idea has just struck me." Inskipp's face was alight. "If she's innocent—"

      "Oh, she is I I'll stake the farm on that!"

      "If I agree with you, when I've carefully gone through them again, I might offer my services to Mrs. Whin—"

      Norbury's finger stopped him. "I think we'd better not use that name!"

      "Quite right!—To Miss Blythe. If I do offer to help her, and if she thinks that amateur help can be any good to her, I might see what can be done when I get back to England. I'm afraid I should have to ask a payment."

      "Of course, you must ask a good one. It's worth it," Norbury said promptly.

      "I might suggest five hundred," said Inskipp.

      "Half down; the remainder if I succeed. I shouldn't be able to devote my time to it otherwise, and I should like immensely to undertake it—"

      "So should I, if I could spare the time," said Norbury, "but I can't. This farm takes all my time. And if I do start an agency in London to sell Riviera produce, that will mean no end of book-keeping. As to the newspapers—take them by all means. As many as you want—but keep them locked away very carefully. It's life or death to that poor woman."

      "I certainly will, but I had to tell you of what's in my mind," said Inskipp, "as I had promised you to say nothing about what you were telling me."

      "That only applies to the world in general—and here at the farm in particular."

      Norbury and Inskipp together weeded out the papers that dealt with the Whin-Browning case, and then, leaving Norbury to get on with his fruit, Inskipp stepped out into the sunshine. Going round the other side of the wing, he almost fell over Rackstraw lying in the shade of the wall just under the window of the room where he and Norbury had been talking. Fortunately, Rackstraw's naps were known for their heaviness. Lying on his back, his mouth open, he looked the picture of slumber. Inskipp stepped across him, and made his way to his own room.

      The terror which he had read in Edna Blythe's face when she heard that Florence Rackstraw had fallen and been killed when alone with Blythe...her flight—for it had been that—to Nice...He saw that probably what had frightened her was the police inquiry which Florence's death might entail. Very likely the letter that he was to hand Blythe and not leave in his room for him, referred to this. The passports of herself and Blythe would be in their real names. Norbury let his guests fill in their own "arrival papers." That, Inskipp saw, was probably the reasons why the brother and sister had stayed, and intended to stay, on at the farm. Blythe, too, had not shown his to the police, and had not gone down to the British Consulate at Nice. All Miss Blythe's dislike of strangers was explained now, as well as her own and her brother's withdrawal, as much as possible, from their fellow guests.

      Inskipp went carefully through the papers. Then he locked them away in his suitcase, and sat on thinking. He was not satisfied. He was not so sure of the woman's innocence as he had been before he had read all the facts. He wanted to be. He would like to help her—if she were innocent.

      It occurred to him that he had a means of testing that innocence. If he offered to go to England to rehabilitate Mrs. Whin-Browning, and if she agreed to his terms—that, Inskipp decided, would prove her to be, as Norbury maintained, only unfortunate—not guilty.

      Inskipp ran lightly up the stairs to the sitting-room of the so-called brother and sister which was in the west wing.

      Inskipp closed the door carefully behind him. "Forgive my bursting in on you like this," he said as he did so. "I want to talk to you two—quite frankly—if I may."

      He did not dare give himself time to think.

      "Sit down," said Blythe, and something in his tone suggested a man who might not be quite so easy-going as his face looked. As for Miss Blythe, she had turned quite pale.

      "I am going back to England shortly, and I wondered whether, while there, I might not be able to serve you, Miss Blythe."

      She stared at him, too taken by surprise to speak—or too frightened.

      "I'm going to England shortly," said Blythe in a level tone, "so that I don't see—"

      "You might be handicapped—Mr. Whin-Browning," said Inskipp in a whisper, coming very close to him. "I should be quite free to get things cleared up without any one suspecting that there was a connection between us."

      There followed a moment of absolute silence. Miss Blythe had leapt to her feet and stood now staring at his face. He turned so that she could see it clearly. As for Blythe, he had stepped back, but his fists had clenched. There was a very ugly look on his features.

      "Suppose you let one talk to Miss Blythe first, by ourselves," suggested Inskipp. "If she accepts the offer of my help, then we three will go into the matter together. If she declines, then the whole affair will be instantly buried."

      For an instant, their eyes met. In hers was a look of agonised hope. Only an innocent woman, Inskipp believed, could look like that at such a moment, and he felt sure of his ground.

      Blythe came closer, the veins on his neck and temples were swollen, but his face was now paler than his sister-in-law's.

      "My name is Blythe, and I'll thank you to remember it," he said icily. "As for any help—we need no proffered services."

      Standing behind him, but a little to one side, Inskipp caught a warning, and yet an imploring look, from Miss Blythe. It only lasted for a second, then she looked down at her tightly-clasped hands.

      "I don't see how you are going to prevent my talking to your sister alone," Inskipp said, facing up to Blythe. He did not like the look on the man's face at all. "Unless you mean that you consider her your prisoner—"

      Blythe СКАЧАТЬ