The Incredible Crime by Lois Austen-Leigh

Author:Lois Austen-Leigh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Poisoned Pen Press, Inc.
Published: 2017-02-22T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter XVIII

Captain Studde, for his own reasons, made it convenient for himself to accept Miss Pinsent’s hastily-sent invitation to lunch with her at Ipswich. This time he took some trouble to make it a pleasanter meal for her. He felt that last time he had probably been rather brutal in his treatment of her. After all, Prudence was well over thirty, now he came to think of it, though, by Jove, she didn’t look it. He had seen through her so completely, too, in spite of her efforts in pretending. So he ordered a table to be kept for them, and had cocktails waiting in the stone-paved lounge downstairs against her arrival.

Prudence turned up punctually, and they enjoyed a cigarette with their cocktails. She came determined to beguile away his fears that any smuggling was going on at Wellende, and fully convinced of her ability to do so; and so, each cherishing a slight feeling of superiority, they sat down in the best of humours with each other.

“You do look well, Prudence,” began Captain Studde, regarding Miss Pinsent’s glowing countenance with real admiration. “You’ve had a lot of good fresh air lately, I’ll be bound.”

“I have indeed, and such good sport. Does it convey what it should to you, when I tell you that in five days’ hunting the hounds have made one six-mile point—point, Harry, and two seven-mile points?”

“Yes, it does a bit; that’s pretty good going.”

“I should just think it was,” said Prudence. “And now I’ve got to go up to Cambridge to entertain some tiresome people who are coming up for honorary degrees. Why does one know the name Sir Boris Buckthorne so well?”

“Buckthorne?” said Studde with a malicious grin. “Why, he’s head of the Criminal Investigation Department. What’s he coming up to Cambridge for?”

“How stupid of me,” said Prudence, with a heightened colour. “Of course, I knew the Chief Commissioner was a friend of father’s, but I had forgotten his name; that is why he wants me home evidently.”

“Perhaps Sir Boris is combining business with pleasure. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if he was.”

“You don’t mean to say you still believe that rot you filled me up with last time, about drugs in Cambridge?”

“I do, every word of it.”

“Well, I can tell you one thing: there’s nothing wrong going on at Wellende. I have satisfied myself as to that,” lied Prudence.

“No,” agreed Studde, to her immense but well-concealed surprise. “I have found out since that I was wrong in my suspicions there.” He regarded Miss Pinsent’s handsome and unconcerned face keenly. Does she, or does she not, know the truth? He wondered.

“Then perhaps very shortly you’ll find out you are wrong about Cambridge, too,” said she, anxious to get the conversation away from Wellende.

“No,” said Studde, “that’s the C.I.D., not me. Not much chance of them being proved wrong, I fancy. What a charming fellow your cousin is.”

“Who? Ben? I thought you said you didn’t know him.”

“I met him, as it happened, the evening we met here last time.

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