The Ladies of Locksley: An Inspector Knollis Mystery (The Inspector Knollis Mysteries Book 9) by Francis Vivian

Author:Francis Vivian [Vivian, Francis]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Dean Street Press
Published: 2018-10-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER VIII

PRIESTLY ADVICE

Brother Ignatius walked into Knollis’s office absently, without knocking. He found Knollis apparently tied in a knot in his chair. He was in fact hugging his knees, and resting his chin on them while he tried to think his way through this most peculiar Cartland case. He blinked, shook himself, and jumped to his feet.

“Ignatius! I was coming to see you this afternoon.”

“I anticipated your visit,” smiled the little priest. “I may understand that you have arrived at the point where you now suspect Mr. Morley? When you have cleared him you will inevitably turn to Mrs. Morley.”

“Leave your clairvoyant tricks out of it for the time being,” said Knollis, somewhat irritably. “I want to ask you several questions. Firstly, did you travel to Burnham with Gentleman Davidson on Friday morning?”

“That is correct, Gordon,” the priest nodded gravely. “He caught me up outside Hatfield when I was walking back to London.”

Knollis stared at him bleakly. “Walking back to London? Then Davidson was travelling toward town!”

The little priest smiled patiently. “Naturally, my dear Gordon. You didn’t think he was driving in reverse, did you?”

“I’ll do him!” exclaimed Knollis. Then he pause. “But you said you travelled to Burnham with him!”

“Yes, that is also correct. He gave me the news about Cartland’s death, and said he was going to Burnham when he’d collected his luggage from the guest house at Hatfield in which he was staying. I went with him, and waited while he packed. Then we came on to Burnham together. He took me to the Ram and Crook Inn at Locksley, and he went to his lodging in town.”

“Where had he been before returning to Hatfield?”

“Burnham.”

“And where had you been if you were walking toward London?”

“Burnham.” The little priest again said.

“Now, listen,” said Knollis, putting one foot up on a chair and leaning on his knee. “How the devil—pardon the use of his name—had you got from Burnham to Hatfield by that time in the morning?”

Brother Ignatius continued to smile in a complacent manner that was rapidly infuriating Knollis.

“I flew it,” he said. “So far as the devil is concerned, please don’t hesitate to use his name, because I am intimately acquainted with him, and indeed would be very differently employed but for his existence. Yes, I flew with a Mr. Farthingale, who put me down in a meadow north of Hatfield, and then continued his journey to Sussex.”

“Farthingale!” exclaimed Knollis.

He took a turn round the room and swung back to meet the little priest, his fingers tightly interlocked.

“Listen, Ignatius! Burnell has been on the blower to the Yard to fix up the arrest of Farthingale and about a dozen others. What do you know about him?”

“Who? Superintendent Burnell?”

“Farthingale!”

“We live in the same village. So did the Shardlows!”

Knollis stared down at the calm little man, and slowly unlocked his fingers and stretched them. “Why did you call here, Ignatius?”

“To assure you that the Morleys are both innocent of Roger Cartland’s death.”

“Ignatius,” said Knollis, “will you please do something

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