Death Takes a Partner by John Rhode

Author:John Rhode [Rhode, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Google: fetGGwAACAAJ
Amazon: B00BIRSZVA
Publisher: Dodd Mead
Published: 1958-09-15T05:37:07+00:00

XI

POLICE CONSTABLE PILSON, stationed in the village of Sandleford, some forty miles north of London, had had a busy morning. It was Wednesday, August 13th, the day fixed for the traction engine rally in the grounds of Emberley Park, a couple of miles from the village. The road leading to the Park was narrow, with an awkward turning off the main road. Pilson had spent the morning directing the traffic, which had flowed in considerable volume towards the scene of the rally.

Now he was having a late lunch, and looking forward to a quiet hour or two when he had finished. The rally was to end at five o’clock with a grand parade of the engines taking part. It would not be until then that the bulk of the traffic would begin to return. He would have to control it again as it approached the main road. Pilson felt that he had earned a rest in the interval.

But his rest was soon broken by a loud hammering on the door of his house and an excited voice calling his name. With a muttered oath he went to the door and opened it, to find on the threshold a thin little man with a pale face and a shock of grey hair. This was Mr. Dyson, the organist of the parish church. “Why, Mr. Dyson, what’s all the fuss about?” Pilson asked.

Between excitement and breathlessness Mr. Dyson’s reply was so incoherent as to be difficult to follow. “Down the road, not half a mile from here, I was riding back from the rally when the chauffeur stopped me. His nose was bleeding, and there was another man lying in the road. He asked me if I knew where the nearest policeman was, and I told him you were here in the village.”

It was obvious to Pilson that there had been a road accident. “I’ll see to it, Mr. Dyson,” he said soothingly. “Half a mile from here? Which way?”

“Towards the Park,” Mr. Dyson gasped. “There’s a big car standing there. You can’t miss it.”

Pilson’s bicycle was standing outside the door. He mounted it, and rode off in the direction Mr. Dyson had indicated. The road was narrow, with just room for two lines of traffic, and full of bends. The verges had not been cut, and the tall grass where the road curved made an awkward screen. Pilson rode on until he came to a particularly sharp bend. On rounding it, he saw the big car fifty yards ahead.

It was facing him, and was drawn in against the verge on its proper side of the road. As he rounded the bend still further, two men, on the opposite side of the road, came into his sight. One was lying just clear of the verge, and the other, a chauffeur in livery, was standing beside him.

Seeing Pilson’s uniform, the chauffeur came towards him. “It’s a bad business, constable. I stopped a chap on a bike, and asked him to send a policeman along.

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