Death on the Boat Train by John Rhode

Author:John Rhode [Rhode, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781927551967
Amazon: B003D8QF8M
Goodreads: 18893877
Publisher: Dodd Mead
Published: 1940-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

FROM London Wall, Jimmy took a bus to Westminster and alighted at the corner of Broadway. A short walk brought him to Bessemer House, where he handed in his card at the inquiry office and requested an interview with Mr. Martin Bassenthwaite.

Although he had never visited the place before, he could see at once the paralysing effect of Sir Hesper’s death. Nobody seemed able to concentrate on their work, and the corridors were full of groups of men and women whispering solemnly together. And it was only after a prolonged wait that a page informed him that Mr. Bassenthwaite was ready to see him.

Jimmy followed the page through what appeared to be an interminable length of corridor until they reached a door upon which the page knocked. They were bidden to enter, and Jimmy found himself confronted by a stern-faced and severely-dressed young woman.

“You wish to see Mr. Bassenthwaite,” she said sharply. “I am his secretary. Perhaps you will be good enough to tell me your business.”

Jimmy smiled disarmingly. “I’m very sorry,” he replied. “But it is a matter which I would rather not discuss with anybody but Mr. Bassenthwaite himself.”

In spite of the austerity of her appearance it was obvious to Jimmy that she was oozing curiosity at every pore. She made one more attempt. “You can hardly expect Mr. Bassenthwaite to see any one without knowing his business. Before I introduce you I shall have to tell him what you wish to talk to him about.”

“I see,” Jimmy replied coldly. “Then you may tell him that I want to talk to him about the death of his uncle, Sir Hesper Bassenthwaite. And perhaps, if you don’t mind, you will tell him that right away.”

Her eyes flashed angrily. But all the same she went to a door on the farther side of the room and disappeared. A minute or so later she came back. Then as she opened the door for Jimmy to pass into the inner room, “Inspector Waghorn,” she announced dramatically.

Jimmy found himself in the presence of a man with sandy hair and watery blue eyes. He was dressed in black and seated at a large table in the centre of the room. Before him was spread an untidy mass of documents, the contents of which he had apparently been studying. He looked up as Jimmy entered and blinked uncertainly.

“Oh—er—good-morning, Inspector,” he said. “Sit down, won’t you? I understand that your visit is in connection with my uncle’s death. But as I have already told Superintendent Hanslet, I can throw no light upon it whatever.”

“Perhaps, however, you can help me clear up a few points which have arisen,” Jimmy replied swiftly. “Do you happen to know a Mr. Edwin Framer?”

Martin Bassenthwaite blinked again more furiously than ever. “Er—yes, I know him slightly,” he said. “My uncle employed him occasionally in connection with his business. But he is in no sense of the word a friend of mine. I have always doubted whether his dealings were perfectly reputable and above-board.

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