A Bone and a Hank of Hair by Leo Bruce

Author:Leo Bruce
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chicago Review Press
Published: 2019-11-19T16:00:00+00:00

11

IT was time to see Mrs Chalk again. She had instigated the whole inquiry and should be kept informed, and there was a question which Carolus wanted to ask her. She was still staying with the Gorringers, and it was to their house that Carolus went at the headmaster’s invitation to “take tea” as soon as he had returned to Newminster.

“We are all a-gog,” said Mr Gorringer as he admitted Carolus, “and have little doubt that you will have fireworks for us, my dear Deene. We all have the greatest confidence in your ability to unravel this mystery.”

He led the way to the drawing-room, normally kept for the reception of parents, but today warmed by a log fire and, in spite of a smell of damp upholstery being dried, rather inviting.

Mrs Gorringer quoted Robert Louis Stevenson: “‘Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill.’ Muswell or Campden, Mr Deene? Where has the chase taken you?”

Carolus was tired and rather nauseated by the case and found it hard to respond civilly to the facetiousnes of the Gorringers. He determined to let them see that this was very far from a humorous affair. He greeted Mrs Chalk, who looked as serious as he did.

“I have seen Rathbone,” he said shortly.

“Ah ha!” cried Mr Gorringer. “I thought you would not let the grass grow under your feet. When and where did your meeting take place?”

“At about one o’clock in the morning in the cottage at Bluefield which he had once occupied.”

“How did he account for the non-appearance of his wife?”

“He has to account for the non-appearance, as you put it, not of one woman but of three at least.”

“You alarm me, Deene. Are you suggesting . . .”

“I’ll tell you what I have discovered,” said Carolus, and did so without circumlocution but in detail. He did not spare them the talk of murder in four places, Bluefield, Hastings, Bolderton and Montgolfier Street. He did not spare them the police search of Glose Cottage or the recollections of Miss Ramble. He gave them “Old Maree” and Elizabeth, full length, and the death of Frenchy exactly as he had heard it.

“What a sordid mare’s nest you have disturbed, Deene!” said Mr Gorringer gravely. “You certainly have a penchant for the leprous and macabre. Who would have thought that a simple query like that of Mrs Chalk would have caused you to stir such muddy waters?”

“Perhaps you thought it would be a sort of jolly treasure hunt?” said Carolus rather bitterly.

“I did not think it would put you on the trail of a mass murderer,” said Mr Gorringer, in his turn somewhat heated. “I still feel that only your morbid way of seeing these things is probably to blame. By your own account you have but the testimony of a few perhaps unreliable witnesses on which to base your assertion that there are three disappearances instead of one.”

“You may be right,” said Carolus wearily. Then turning to Mrs Chalk he asked, “Did you know your cousin Charlotte?”

“Scarcely at all,” she said.

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