The Greatest Murder Mysteries - Dorothy Fielding Collection. Dorothy Fielding

Чтение книги онлайн.

      CHAPTER 13

       Table of Contents

      VARDON had barely laid down the telephone before he dashed into a taxi and drove to Dorset Steele's office with news that he was now a free men. The lawyer hummed, and hawed, and threw—not so much cold water as vinegar, on the other's apparent optimism. He refused to see the daylight at the end of the tunnel.

      Oddly enough, Barbara, too, was not so radiant as Vardon seemed to be. She was more concerned with what Pointer had said than with the mere fact of Philip being allowed to go where he pleased.

      "Did he say that he thought you innocent?" she asked more than once. Vardon put her off with pointing out that deeds spoke louder than words. But Barbara was not satisfied.

      She went to see the Chief Inspector herself.

      "Does this mean that you think he's innocent?" she asked bluntly.

      "Do you know what would happen to me if I let him go, and he were guilty?" Pointer asked with apparent candour. "We're not allowed to make blunders like that, Miss Ash. We're expected to go down with the ship."

      "Grandfather says he'll be watched in Sweden where he has to go first—about some timber, and afterwards on the ship to Patagonia. Closer even than on land. He'll be watched in every port. He'll be watched between every port."

      Pointer did not reply. Grandfather was a wise old bird. Barbara left him, but little comforted.

      A ring came at the door of the little studio where she worked at her china painting. Barbara was not pleased. Visitors meant dust, and dust meant specks.

      It was Mary Eden. Barbara liked Mary. Though one was older than the other, they were both of them Cheltenham girls. That counted. Mary was looking ill.

      "I was passing, and felt that f must drop in and see you. Do I disturb you?"

      Barbara told her that she did not, and by way of proving the statement, began putting her things away in a cupboard.

      "Is it true that Philip Vardon is leaving for Patagonia?" Mary asked suddenly.

      Barbara said that it was true. Mary Eden shivered, and drew closer to the fire. There was silence for a few minutes.

      "I'm glad he's free from suspicion. But oh, Barby! Barby!" and with that, to her own, and Barbara's, boundless surprise, Mary Eden began to cry. Terribly. Heartbrokenly.

      It was over in a moment. But it was not forgotten, and it left its traces on the elder girl's face. These were the kind of tears that relieve.

      "Since you've seen so much, I might as well tell you all," Mary said brokenly. "It's Charlie Tangye. He thinks he's going to be arrested—for his wife's murder. Murder!" Mary Eden shivered. "It's no use pretending that things aren't very suspicious. You see, he was in a frightfully tight place financially, it seems, and—well, of course, it was his own money—but he seems to've sent off some hundreds that same evening that she died. I couldn't make out about the money. Apparently Chief Inspector Pointer thinks it was taken before the police got to Riverview, and of course, that looks bad. So do—other things. Some one saw him come out of the house about five." Barbara winced. "He went back for some papers to do with his, and her insurance. Intending to raise money on them. And, of course, that looks terrible. His having kept silence, as well as his having been there, and the reason for his going. It's all terrible. Miss Saunders is standing by him splendidly. I wouldn't have thought she had it in her. But he's desperately afraid that the police intend to arrest him. He thinks Pointer doesn't believe her."

      Barbara felt appallingly guilty. Had she bought Vardon's release with the torture of another man? Like Mary Eden, she felt sure of easy-going Mr. Tangye's innocence.

      "I don't suppose you can help," Mary went on forlornly, "but if you can think of some trifle?" she spoke wistfully. "I did help to clear Philip, you know, and by something that told frightfully against Mr. Tangye. He says the Superintendent spoke as though I might be called as a witness against him." She bent forward again.

      "Barbara, I helped to clear Philip," she repeated, "can't you help to clear Charlie Tangye? You're so quick-witted. Can't you think of anything we can do?"

      Barbara had no help to give, and Mary kissed her as she left.

      "Forget this scene, Barby," she said, holding her hand. "Forget it entirely. What I've said, and what I haven't said."

      Barbara let her go with a remorseful heart. How could she have acted otherwise? Yet what had she done? It was ridiculous to suppose that Tangye was guilty, but if his wife's death was a murder, as the police maintained, then some one had done it. Some one, but surely not, oh surely not...

      She broke the cup on which she was working, and merely pushed the bits on one side with her foot, as she sat thinking.

      Chief Inspector Pointer had said that the best motive would win. Barbara felt afraid of the detective-officer since that one glimpse of the inner man. But his words carried weight. Could she find another motive than the obvious one of the will, the money. That was what he was trying to do she knew. He had questioned her about Mrs. Tangye's past, but the Ashes had only known the dead woman since her marriage to Branscombe. Barbara had been of no help, nor had Lady Ash, to whom her daughter had written at once, been able to remember anything that would serve.

      But she had sent a letter to her husband saying that Barbara ought to go away for a while. Sir Richard agreed most emphatically. Barbara had refused. Now she reconsidered that refusal. There would be no rest for her anywhere till she knew who really had killed Mrs. Tangye. She shivered. Up till now her intervention had only made things worse for everybody in turn. But she must try again and again.

      Barbara СКАЧАТЬ