The Perfect Murder by Ruskin Bond

Author:Ruskin Bond [Bond, Ruskin]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Rupa Publications India
Published: 2016-12-31T18:30:00+00:00

IV

He had a dim memory when he awoke of somebody questioning him and then of being half-pushed, half-carried upstairs to bed. There was something wrong with his head and his chest, and he was trembling violently, and very cold. Somebody was speaking. ‘You must have taken leave of your senses,’ said the voice of Hannah. ‘I thought you were dead.’

He forced his eyes to open. ‘Doctor,’ he muttered, ‘doctor.’

‘Out on a bad case,’ said Hannah, ‘I waited till I was tired of waiting, and then came along. Good thing for you I did. He’ll be round first thing this morning. He ought to be here now.’

She bustled about, tidying up the room, his leaden eyes following her as she collected the beef-tea and a tray and carried them out.

‘Nice thing I did yesterday,’ she remarked, as she came back. ‘Left the missus’s bedroom window open. When I opened the door this morning I found that beautiful Chippendale glass of hers had blown off the table and, smashed to pieces. Did you hear it?’

Goddard made no reply. In a confused fashion he was trying to think. Accident or not, the fall of the glass had served its purpose. Were there such things as accident? Or, was Life a puzzle—puzzle into which every piece was made to fit? Fear and the wind…no: conscience and the wind… had saved the woman. He must get the powder back from her drawer…before she discovered it and denounced him. The medicine…he must remember not to take it…

He was very ill, seriously ill. He must have taken a chill owing to that panic flight into the garden. Why didn’t the doctor come? He had come…at last…he was doing something to his chest…it was cold.

Again…the doctor…there was something he wanted to tell him…Hannah and a powder…what was it?

Later on he remembered, together with other things that he had hoped to forget. He lay watching an endless procession of memories, broken at times by a glance at the doctor, the nurse, and Hannah, who were all standing near the bed regarding him. They had been there a long time, and they were all very quiet. The last time he looked at Hannah was the first time for months that he had looked at her without loathing and hatred. Then he knew that he was dying.

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