Campion 01 The Crime at Black Dudley by Margery Allingham

Author:Margery Allingham [Allingham, Margery]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-03-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

in the evening

The disturbing discovery which Meggie and Abbershaw had made in Mrs Meade’s story silenced them for some time. Until the old woman’s extraordinary announcement ten minutes before, the division between the sheep and the goats had been very sharply defined. But now the horrible charge of murder was brought into their own camp. On the face of it, either Albert Campion or one of the young people in the house-party must be the guilty person.

Of course there was always the saving hope that in his haste Campion had locked one of the servants out instead of confining them all to their quarters as he had intended. But even so, neither Abbershaw nor the girl could blind themselves to the fact that in the light of present circumstances the odds were against the murderer lying in that quarter.

The entire staff of the house was employed by von Faber or his agents, that is to say that they were actually of the gang themselves. Coombe was an asset to them — it was not in their interests to kill him.

And yet, on the other hand, if the gang had not committed the murder they certainly covered up all traces of it. Mrs Meade’s story had deepened the mystery instead of destroying it.

Meggie looked at Abbershaw.

‘If we could only get out,’ she murmured. Abbershaw nodded briskly. Conjectures and theories could wait until afterwards; the main business in hand at the moment was escape, if not out of the house at least back to the others.

He turned to the old woman.

‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance of getting out through there?’ he suggested, indicating the inner room in the doorway of which she still stood.

She shook her head.

‘There’s nobbut a fireplace and a door,’ she said, ‘and you’ll not get through the door because I’ve bolted it and he’s locked it. You can have a look at the fireplace if you like, but the chimney’ll only land you up on the roof even if you could get up it; best wait till Wednesday till my son comes.’

Abbershaw was inclined to enlighten her on the chances her son was likely to have against the armed Herr von Faber, but he desisted, and contented himself by shaking his head. Meggie, ever practical, came forward with a new question.

‘But do you eat? Have you been starved all this time?’ she said.

Mrs Meade looked properly aggrieved.

‘Oh, they bring me my victuals,’ she said: ‘naturally.’

Apparently the event of her being starved out of her stronghold had not occurred to her. ‘Lizzie Tiddy brings me up a tray night and morning.’

‘Lizzie Tiddy?’ Abbershaw looked up inquiringly. ‘Who’s that?’

A smile, derisive and unpleasant, spread over the wrinkled face. ‘She’s a natural,’ she said, and laughed.

‘A natural?’

‘She’s not right in her head. All them Tiddys are a bit crazed. Lizzie is the wust.’

‘Does she work here?’ Meggie’s face expressed her disapproval.

Mrs Meade’s smile broadened into a grin, and her quick eyes rested on the girl.

‘That’s right. No one else wouldn’t ha’ had her.

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