Death of a Burrowing Mole (Mrs. Bradley) by Mitchell Gladys

Author:Mitchell, Gladys [Mitchell, Gladys]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2014-03-31T16:00:00+00:00

10

Edward, Nicholas, and Susannah

“Well!” said Laura when, the door having closed behind Fiona, nobody else had been summoned. “What do we make of that lot? Their new alibis don’t seem of any more use than their old ones.”

“Nor, perhaps, much nearer the truth, but we shall see. I will change my mind about the sequence of our visitors. I will see Edward Saltergate next.” Laura went to the door and asked the policeman to summon him. Edward entered and was seated. Laura closed the door and went back to her chair at the smaller table.

“Well,” said Edward, “I would like to know what my wife has told you before I answer any questions.”

“Why do you think the police are going to so much trouble to keep those who have been interviewed completely segregated from those who have not, so far, entered this room?” asked Dame Beatrice.

“I have no idea. It seems a totally unnecessary proceeding.”

“A man has died mysteriously, Mr. Saltergate.”

“There is no evidence of any mystery.”

“Oh, but do you think I would be here in my official capacity if there were no evidence of it? There is a very strong presumption indeed that Professor Veryan was murdered. I am not at liberty to give away information which is known to the police, but you may take my word for it that they now have suspicions that the death may not have been an accident. You stated that you spent the Sunday night in question at the Horse and Cart hotel with your wife. Do you wish to enlarge upon that statement?”

“Enlarge upon it?” Edward’s expression changed. He ceased to look like an affronted sheep and merely blinked at Dame Beatrice before resuming his usual appearance of giving courteous attention to the person with whom he was in conversation. “No. You have told me what I wanted to know. Veryan’s death was no accident.”

“To you I hardly needed to put it into words.”

“You flatter me, indeed you do. If what you tell me is true (and I am certain it is), I suppose I must be the chief suspect.”

“Why should you suppose that? Good gracious me! If every time two eminent scholars fell out, the result was the murder of one of them by the other, we should soon be very short of first-class brains. Co-operate with me, please, and let us have a true picture of how you spent that Sunday evening and night.”

“Very well. So far as the night itself is concerned, my previous story needs no alteration. From midnight onwards I was in bed. What I did not disclose and what I had suggested to my wife that she did not mention, was how we spent the later part of the evening.”

“Why did you want to conceal what you did?”

“Because I was ashamed of it and ashamed of having involved Lilian. I acted the despicable part of a spy and persuaded my wife to assist me.”

“Did you find out anything to your advantage?”

“I confirmed my impression that

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