Dr. Morelle Meets Murder by Ernest Dudley

Author:Ernest Dudley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: traditional British mystery, crime, mystery, murder, detective
ISBN: 9781434448095
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2012-09-13T16:00:00+00:00

THE HANGING GUARDIAN

Miss Frayle was never able to be quite sure whether Doctor Morelle truly appreciated what she did for him. His naturally sarcastic tongue was an efficient method of hiding his feelings.

She came into his study slowly, notebook and pencil in one hand, while the other hand nervously adjusted the spectacles on her nose—a habit of hers which the Doctor invariably found a source of extreme irritation.

“Well, well, well,” she said, as she settled herself in the chair opposite him. “The first day back at my old job.”

The Doctor gave her a non-committal glance.

“It’s quite a moment. Don’t you agree, Doctor Morelle?” She was unable to resist studying his face as she made this remark.

“It is indeed a gratifying occasion, Miss Frayle,” Doctor Morelle replied with at any rate an approach to cordiality. “It is an occasion, I may say, to which I have been looking forward with some considerable feeling of pleasurable anticipation.”

“Have you really, Doctor?” Miss Frayle was thrilled, not to say surprised. This was quite the nearest approach to a pretty speech Doctor Morelle had ever made to her during their long association.

“I know,” he said solemnly, “that I should never have found anyone as suitable for the position of my secretary as yourself.”

“Somehow,” said Miss Frayle, with what seemed, for a moment, to be an echo of his own sarcastic tone, “I’d rather gathered that.”

Doctor Morelle coughed and looked at her with what in an ordinary individual would have been termed surprise.

“By the way,” Miss Frayle went on, “I do hope, if I may say so, you won’t be having quite so many of these dreadfully bloodthirsty crimes to deal with.”

“And why do you express that hope, pray?”

“I mean to say, it did get a trifle nerve-racking sometimes.”

The Doctor looked at her with a grim smile. “My dear Miss Frayle,” he said in rasping tones, “some men are born detectives, some achieve detective genius, and some have it thrust upon them.”

“Sounds almost like a quotation from Shakespeare, you know, Doctor,” Miss Frayle remarked in her most innocent manner.

“The cases which I have investigated in recent years,” the Doctor went on, “have been invariably successful, even though their investigation has never been of my seeking.”

“Yes, yes, I know, Doctor. You just attract murder and all the other horrors like a magnet.”

Doctor Morelle eyed her with a slight air of disapproval.

“That observation, Miss Frayle, if I may say so, has a somewhat ambiguous ring.”

At that moment the telephone rang.

Miss Frayle said with a gentle smile: “Anyway, I hope that there is nothing ambiguous—or whatever was the word that you used—about this phone ring!

“Hello? This is Doctor Morelle’s house. What? Hold on, please.”

She turned to Doctor Morelle, holding her hand over the receiver. “It’s the Regal Hotel, Doctor,” she explained. “It is the manager speaking. He said that he wants to have a word with you at once.”

The Doctor took the receiver from her with an irritable gesture.

“Doctor Morelle here. Yes, yes. I understand. I will be there without delay.

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