THE DEADLIER OF THE SPECIES by Stephen Frances

Author:Stephen Frances
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

*

For a moment both men stood taken aback by this sudden physical intrusion - by proxy, so to speak - of the man they were discussing. Then Blake said genially.

"Show Mrs. Blunt in, please."

The visitor entered the room, hard on Mrs. Bardell's heels. The housekeeper eyed her suspiciously - she eyed all Blake's lady visitors suspiciously - before closing the door and marching back to her kitchen, from whence came almost immediately the noisy clattering of saucepan lids.

Mrs. Bardell and her saucepans had a language of their own - a language which conveyed forcibly that good woman's opinion of "ladies" who called un chaperoned at a gentleman's flat. Especially such a good-looking gentleman as Mr. Blake. Why, some of these modern hussies - She contented herself with the knowledge that Tinker was there to take care of his governor.

Elizabeth Blunt was a pretty young woman who spoke with an undisguised Cockney accent. She perched gingerly on the extreme edge of the comfortable chair Blake put forward for her, clasping her fingers nervously together.

Her clothes were neat, although inexpensive and unimaginative and her hair was tidily dressed. But she clearly felt ill-at-ease in the presence of Sexton Blake. He did his best to make her feel at home.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Mrs. Blunt?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No . . . no, thank you. I don't want to be a trouble -"

"No trouble at all, I assure you."

"No, thanks." Her eyes were worried, darting from one to the other like startled fish.

"As you wish," said Blake soothingly. He sat down, settling back into his chair. "Are you comfortable?" he asked.

"Oh yes, quite," she said, glancing towards the door as though reassuring herself that if the need arose she could reach it in one bound.

Blake leaned forward. "Are you in some trouble, Mrs. Blunt? Can I help you?"

She said abruptly: "i've come about me 'usband."

"Yes?" said Blake encouragingly. He took his cigarette case from his pocket, opened it and proffered the case towards her.

She shook her head. "No, thanks. I don't smoke. But you go a'ead if you want to."

"Thank you," said Blake. He lit a cigarette, then looked at her inquiringly. "Is your husband's name Edmund - Edmund Blunt?" he asked.

"That's 'im," she said. "You see . . . I 'aven't 'ad no money from 'im for weeks - and I'm getting that worried . . . "

Blake nodded sympathetically. The woman plunged on: "It's not meself so much. If it was just meself I could manage. But it's the kids! And 'e's supposed to pay me maintenance, isn't 'e? That's what the law says -"

She stared at Blake, half-defiantly. "I 'aven't 'eard from 'im for weeks, and all I 'ad was this lodging'ouse address. I went there and all they could tell me was 'e'd gone away -'adn't left no forwarding address. They said there was someone else inquiring after 'im - chap with a beard; 'Udson, 'is name was. They gave me 'is address -'Angler's Refuge' it was, and I went there, thinkin' 'e might be able to 'elp.

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