The Silver Bullet. Fergus Hume

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СКАЧАТЬ It does sound as though he had a bad reputation."

      "Bad sir," echoed the Inspector not without pride, "a regular out and out rip. But that he belonged to the gentry, he would have been through my hands I can tell you. And to think of him being murdered. I ain't astonished, no I ain't astonished. He was too wicked to die in his bed as the Christian he wasn't."

      "Why do you say he was murdered?" asked Jim alertly. "The revolver was in his hand. Looks like suicide to me,--at the first glance of course."

      Bridge laughed grimly and shook his head. "Colonel Carr was the last man in the world to take his own life sir,--too much afraid of the burning pit for that. I examined the body this morning, and I say--murder. Certainly my examination was cursory. But if he had shot himself through the heart, the linen over it would have been scorched. There is no mark of powder not even a singe. No sir, that shot was fired at a long range. If you did not alter the position of the body Dr. Herrick, I should say that the shot had been fired from the door."

      "I did not alter the position of the body Mr. Inspector. I merely turned it over, and replaced it. H'm! murder you say. And the assassin placed the revolver in the dead hand to hint at suicide. Clever man or woman Mr. Inspector. Which?"

      "Lord knows," replied Bridge rubbing his grey hair. "The Colonel had heaps and heaps of enemies I can tell you. Whether man or woman, I do not know. But I'll tell you one thing Dr. Herrick, whosoever fired the shot knew the Colonel excellently well."

      "I see what you mean. The assassin knew that his victim was left-handed."

      "Right sir. You've hit it. Now," added Bridge meditatively, "could it have been Frisco?"

      "Frisco. Who is he or her?"

      "Frisco was the servant of Colonel Carr," explained the Inspector, "and as great a mystery as his master; San Francisco, he called himself, and that I take it is the name of a town. The wicked Colonel shortened it to Frisco for short. Yes! Frisco might have killed him!"

      "If you would only give me a concise biography of Carr, I should be less in the dark Mr. Inspector."

      "Oh, you'll hear plenty of stories about him,--none of them creditable. But to put all you need know at present into a nut-shell, I can only say that the wicked Colonel returned here from foreign parts ten years ago. He built that tower, and shut himself up to live the life of a recluse. He brought Frisco with him, and the two inhabited that house all alone. No one thought of going near it."

      "Ah! That is why the crime was not discovered earlier."

      "Certainly Doctor. The milkman, the baker, and the butcher, were always instructed to leave their goods in a porch at the side of the house. In that porch," added Bridge, "we have found two days provisions. To-day is Friday, last night when you discovered the body was Thursday, and the provisions for that day and Wednesday were untouched."

      "H'm! So Carr was alive on Tuesday!"

      "I believe doctor, that he was murdered on Tuesday night. According to Napper, Frisco, was drinking here on that evening, and spoke ill of his master. Carr must have been alive then. If Frisco killed him, he would leave Saxham on Tuesday night, therefore the provisions for Wednesday and Thursday would not be taken in."

      "Did not the baker and the rest suspect anything, when they found two day's provisions untouched?"

      "Lord bless you, no sir," said Bridge jovially. "The wicked Colonel was that queer, that nothing he did seemed strange."

      "Well!" said Jim after a pause. "From what you tell me, it seems likely that this man Frisco knows something of the murder, if he did not commit it himself. Can't you find him?"

      "There is no sign of the man sir."

      "What about his appearance?"

      "A stout sailor, that's what he looked like," said Bridge reflecting, "red hair and blue eyes, an American way of speaking, and a cross on his forehead right above the nose."

      "A cross! What do you mean?"

      "A scar sir; a criss-cross slash with a knife. Frisco said he got it in South America. But I don't rightly know how. Frisco could be secret if he liked, even in his cups, and he could drink rum by the bucket."

      "Have you set the detectives after him?"

      "Not yet. I am waiting until the inquest is held. It takes place to-day at 'The Pines.' You will be there Dr. Herrick, and your friend?"

      "Certainly. But my friend can tell you no more than I can. If I were you though Mr. Inspector, I should certainly seek out this Frisco man at once. What is his real name?"

      "I don't know nor anyone else sir. He was a mystery I tell you. As to looking him up, I like to do things in an orderly manner. First the inquest and all the available evidence sir. Then we shall see."

      Herrick shrugged his broad shoulders. It was not his business to instruct Bridge, but it seemed to him foolish to delay hunting for this mysterious Frisco. The man might be innocent, but on the face of it there appeared to be a strong suspicion against him. Men do not disappear without some reason; and as Frisco was gone, leaving a dead body behind him, it looked as though terror had winged his heels. His reasons could resolve themselves into only one of two things. Either he had murdered his master himself, and had fled to avoid the consequences, or he knew who had committed the crime and, intimidated by the assassin, had made himself scarce.

      While Herrick was turning over the situation in his own mind, a knock came to the door, immediately afterwards a girl entered. She was a slip of a thing, who looked about nineteen, slim and well-set up. Her face was oval and thin, and burnt red by wind and sun. Herrick had never before seen hair of such a glorious red; it resembled ruddy gold, and was wreathed in burnished coils round her well-shaped head. This young lady had eyes of a sapphire blue, and a firm-set mouth. Dressed in a navy serge plainly made, with a linen collar, a brown leathern belt, and gauntlet gloves, she looked trig and neat. A girl likely to be passed over in a crowd until one looked into her wonderful eyes. The soul that looked out of them proved she was a woman of no common intelligence. Her manner was refined and well-bred. She was remarkably cool, and after a shrewd glance at Herrick, addressed herself to the Inspector.

      "I beg your pardon for interrupting you," she said in a brisk but not unmusical voice, "this inquest Mr. Inspector?"

      "It takes place at 'The Pines' this afternoon Miss Endicotte," replied Bridge who seemed to know her well. "But surely Miss you will not attend."

      "Certainly Mr. Bridge. I do the copy for the Chronicle. Besides, poor Colonel Carr was my friend, and I want to hear the truth about his death."

      Herrick looked sharply at the only person he had heard speak sympathetically of the dead man. "There lives some soul of good in all things evil," he quoted, and a flash of the girl's teeth showed that she perfectly understood.

      "Oh, I know that everyone speaks ill of the Colonel," said she a trifle sadly, "he was bad enough, no doubt. Yet, your quotation applies to him more than the gossip about him would lead you to suppose." Here she glanced at Bridge. Not so much to emphasise the fact that he talked ill of the dead, as to invite an introduction. Bridge was quick to see her real meaning.

      "This is Dr. Herrick, who found the body," said he, "and this lady, doctor is Miss Bess Endicotte, who reports for the Beorminster Weekly Chronicle."

      Jim СКАЧАТЬ