Death at Breakfast. John Rhode

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СКАЧАТЬ Mr Harleston, you know what has happened,’ he said curtly.

      ‘My sister sent me a wire,’ replied Philip in a puzzled voice. ‘I don’t understand it at all. Victor was perfectly well when I last saw him. And that was only yesterday evening.’

      ‘You were on very friendly terms with your half-brother, I expect,’ said Hanslet innocently.

      Philip scratched his head with a peculiar gesture of uncertainty. ‘I don’t know that we were particularly friendly,’ he replied. ‘I didn’t like the way he treated Janet. Of course, he had to provide a home for her, but that was no reason for making her slave for him as he did.’

      ‘Your sister was dependent upon her half-brother?’

      ‘Completely. She had nothing whatever of her own. Now, of course, she’ll be independent.’

      Hanslet glanced triumphantly in Jimmy’s direction. Here was the first hint of motive coming as a gift from Heaven. Victor Harleston had made his sister slave for him. His death made her independent. The reason for the murder became immediately apparent. However, Hanslet did not pursue the subject. He preferred to learn the relations between these three people from an independent source. He seemed at the moment more interested in Philip’s visit to Matfield Street.

      ‘You had supper at your half-brother’s house yesterday evening, did you not?’ he asked.

      ‘Yes, I went there to see Janet and she asked me to stop,’ Philip replied. ‘I had a suggestion to make to her which I knew that Victor would not like. I knew she was a bit run-down and wanted a change. So I suggested to her that she should come and stay with me in the country for a bit.’

      ‘And this suggestion did not meet with your half-brother’s approval?’ Hanslet asked.

      ‘Most decidedly not. In fact, he put his foot on it at once. He said that his bargain with Janet was this. He provided for her and in return she kept house for him. Who was going to do her work while she was away? Was he expected to pay somebody to come in? In fact, Janet’s place was at Matfield Street and she could only leave there with his permission.’

      Hanslet nodded. ‘And you accepted your half-brother’s decision without protest?’ he asked.

      Once more Philip scratched his head. It was evidently a characteristic gesture. ‘Well, I don’t know,’ he replied slowly. ‘I told Victor just what I thought of his behaviour and we had a few words. In the end he told me to get outside the house and stop there. If I liked to take Janet with me, I might. But if she went it would have to be for good. He would wash his hands of her as he would be entitled to.’

      ‘What time was it when you left the house?’ Hanslet asked.

      ‘About nine o’clock. I caught the nine forty-five from Charing Cross.’

      ‘What is your occupation, Mr Harleston?’

      ‘I am the manager of a fruit farm. I have a small cottage and I could easily put Janet up. The trouble is that what I earn would not be enough to keep both of us.’

      ‘I think you said that your half-brother’s death will make your sister independent?’ Hanslet suggested.

      ‘Yes, that’s right,’ Philip replied cheerfully. ‘There’s nothing to prevent Janet coming and living with me now.’

      Hanslet made no reply. He pressed a button upon his desk and a few seconds later a messenger appeared. ‘Will you take Mr Harleston to Inspector Waghorn’s room, please,’ he said. And then, turning to Philip, ‘You’ll find your sister waiting for you there,’ he added.

      Philip left the room in charge of the messenger.

      ‘Well, that’s that,’ said Hanslet. ‘Victor Harleston’s death seems to have come as a godsend to those two young people. I don’t want them hanging about Matfield Street. Run along and talk to them, Jimmy. Persuade Philip Harleston to take his sister away with him. Only, keep your eye on them. And if they show any signs of making a bolt for it, have them detained.’

      It was by now lunch-time, a meal which Hanslet never missed if he could help it. He went out and had his favourite chop and a pint of beer. He then decided to pay a visit to Mr Mowbray. He thought it probable that he would secure some useful information from this quarter.

      Mr Mowbray occupied a dark and musty office in Lincoln’s Inn. Hanslet was received by an elderly clerk, who immediately told him that on no account could he see Mr Mowbray without an appointment. Hanslet, however, produced his card, and this had the usual effect. The clerk shuffled off with it into an inner office. He reappeared a few minutes later with the information that Mr Mowbray would make an exception to his invariable rule and see the superintendent at once.

      Hanslet passed into the inner room and found himself confronted by a wizened old man with a peevish and distinctly unwelcoming expression. From his appearance Hanslet guessed that he had been interrupted in his quiet after-lunch doze. The lawyer glared at him.

      ‘Well, Superintendent,’ he wheezed, ‘what is your business?’

      ‘Not a particularly pleasant one, I’m afraid,’ Hanslet replied. ‘Mr Victor Harleston, of eight Matfield Street, was one of your clients, I believe?’

      ‘Was!’ exclaimed the lawyer. ‘Was? Is, you mean. What about him?’

      ‘He died under extremely suspicious circumstances about nine o’clock this morning,’ Hanslet replied equably.

      ‘Eh! What’s this?’ exclaimed the lawyer. ‘Why wasn’t I told about it before?’

      ‘The information has been conveyed to you at the earliest possible moment, Mr Mowbray. Perhaps you will be good enough to give me certain information respecting your late client.’

      The lawyer looked at him obliquely. ‘I must first demand an explanation of the words you used just now,’ he replied. ‘Suspicious circumstances, I think you said. In what way were the circumstances of my client’s death suspicious?’

      ‘It is believed that Victor Harleston died as the result of acute poisoning,’ said Hanslet deliberately.

      ‘Then an inquest will be held?’ Mr Mowbray snapped.

      ‘That is so. It is in view of this inquest that I am asking for information.’

      ‘Well, what do you want to know?’

      ‘First of all I should like information as to Victor Harleston’s age, occupation, and so forth.’

      ‘Victor Harleston was forty-two. He has for many years been employed as a clerk by Messrs. Slater & Knott, Accountants, Chancery Lane. I have every reason to believe that his work has given his employers the fullest satisfaction.’

      ‘Did he possess means beyond his salary?’ Hanslet asked.

      The lawyer glanced at him suspiciously. ‘He enjoys the proceeds of a trust established by his father,’ he replied.

      ‘Were there any conditions attaching to this?’

      This question seemed to rouse the lawyer from his apathy. ‘A most ridiculous affair altogether,’ СКАЧАТЬ