LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

for keeps—out in the ditch the other side of the front fence. He’s dead.”

      “He’s d——” began Miss Jade in a high loud voice. Then she checked herself. Pushing back her chair, she stood up and stared down upon the rotund Bisker. Softly, she asked:

      “Did you say Mr. Grumman is dead, Bisker?” Bisker nodded.

      Now Miss Jade was a woman of character. She had begun in a small suburban boarding-house, and worked through a succession of larger boarding-houses to small guest houses until she became the proprietress of Wideview Chalet on Mount Chalmers. She was not one to give way to panic. The swinging doors were not so far removed that the maid on the other side could not hear what was being said.

      “Come with me to the office, Bisker.”

      Bisker ambled after her. When within the office, she ordered a young and efficient-looking girl to take her breakfast, and then she waited for ten seconds before closing the door and saying to Bisker:

      “Now, Bisker.”

      Bisker told how he had observed a working man coming up from the wicket gate, how he had “rushed” down to stop him and to turn him out, and how he had been led to observe the body of Mr. Grumman.

      “You are quite sure that the man is dead?” questioned Miss Jade.

      “In the last war I seen lots of dead men,” said Bisker. “Mr. Grumman is dead all right. His body is stiff and as cold as me nose.”

      “Did he fall over the road bank, do you think?”

      “It don’t look like it by the way he’s lying,” replied Bisker, adding cheerfully: “Course he might ’ave. I ain’t saying as how he didn’t just walk off the bank in his sleep, sort of. Any’ow, he’s dead, and we can’t just plant him somewheres in the garden.”

      Miss Jade’s brows rose much higher than was necessary to erase those vertical lines between her brows. When she spoke again her voice was cold.

      “Don’t be foolish, Bisker. Be quiet, I’ll ring the police.”

      “That’s what Mr. Bonaparte said, marm,” Bisker answered.

      “Mr. Bonaparte!”

      “Yes, marm. Mr. Bonaparte came to the edge of the bank just as I had examined the body. He’s having a look round, sorta. Sent me along to tell you and to ask you to ring for the police and the doctor.”

      “The doctor! But you said that Mr. Grumman is dead.”

      Bisker looked patiently at his employer.

      “That’s so, marm. But the law says that only a doctor can prove that a man’s dead.”

      It gave Bisker satisfaction to observe that Miss Jade was thrown off her balance, that for once she was a prey to her emotions. He stood calmly watching her as with fluttering hands she lifted the telephone and asked the operator to connect her with the Police Station. Whilst waiting she looked up at Bisker, and he was astounded to see in her eyes a look of appeal. The crisis found the man.

      “You had better let me do the talkin’,” he suggested.

      “Please, Bisker.”

      Miss Jade gladly surrendered the instrument, and sat down in the secretary’s chair. Then Bisker spoke.

      “This is Wideview Chalet, Mr. Rice,” he said. “Bisker talkin’. One of our guests, a gent named Grumman, is lying in the ditch at the bottom of the garden. He’s got only his dressing gown and slippers on, and he looks like being dead. Thought you’d like to come down and look him over.”

      Miss Jade abruptly felt like having hysterics. Bisker proceeded:

      “No, we haven’t rung for the quack yet, Mr. Rice ... Yes—all right! ... You’ll be along directly? ... All right! We’ll hang on till you gets here.”

      Bisker set down the telephone, studied Miss Jade for a fraction of a second and seated himself in her office chair, slumped into it with the same visible relief that she had shown when she sat down. He said plaintively:

      “Sorry, Miss Jade, but I’m sort of upset like. Findin’ poor Mr. Grumman like that and all. A little drop of brandy—now.”

      Suspicion leapt into Miss Jade’s dark eyes, but the mention of brandy created the want in herself. She pushed a bell button. Bisker rose and lurched to the desk. He again picked up the telephone and asked to be connected with Dr. Markham. He saw George appear at the door, and with exultation he heard Miss Jade order two brandy-and-sodas. Then he heard another feminine voice.

      “Is that Dr. Markham’s?” he asked, deliberately putting a tremor into his voice. “This is the Chalet. A gent has been taken seriously ill ... What’s that? ... The doctor’s away? ... That’s bad ... Back soon? Oh, all right! Tell him to come along up as soon as he can ... Yes, it’s serious.”

      He had just replaced the telephone instrument when George appeared with the drinks. Miss Jade ordered George to place the glasses on the desk. Bisker waited for George to withdraw, and such was the steward’s training that not a muscle of his face betrayed his astonishment. The door having been closed after George, Miss Jade said:

      “Take a glass, Bisker.”

      Miss Jade took three sips at her drink. Bisker held his glass to the light of the window, he sniffed at the contents, then he drank without swallowing and wiped his bristling grey moustache with the full length of a coat-sleeve. He was regretfully putting down the empty glass when Miss Jade said:

      “Should it turn out that Mr. Grumman did not meet with an accident, Bisker, that in fact he met his death through violence, everything will be most upset here at the Chalet. I hope, Bisker, that you will remain loyal to me. The guests will doubtless all depart, and the place will have a bad name to live down. Let us hope that Mr. Grumman met with a normal accident.”

      Bisker’s small grey eyes became steady.

      “What makes you think that Mr. Grumman might ’ave been murdered?” he asked.

      “Don’t be stupid, Bisker,” snapped Miss Jade. “You tell me the man is dead and that he is lying in a ditch in his dressing gown and slippers. Surely you can recognize the possibility?”

      “Oh, yes, marm. I can see that,” admitted Bisker.

      “Of course you can. How long will it take Constable Rice to get here?”

      “About five minutes in his car. Half an hour if he walks. This might be ’im coming now.” They listened. Then Bisker said: “No, it’s a car coming up the drive from the highway.”

      The Police Station, staffed by one officer, was at a small hamlet approximately half a mile up along the highway above Wideview Chalet, and, therefore, Constable Rice would take a left-hand turn-off to reach the Chalet at its upper side by the main entrance and the garages. To come in from the city, cars entered through a wide gateway about a hundred yards below the wicket gate and the ramp to the highway. It was thus that Miss Jade and Bisker knew that Constable Rice would be bound to call at the house, and would not see Bonaparte and Fred, who probably were remaining near the body of Mr. Grumman.

      The car that came up from the highway could be heard circling on the open space fronting the garages and the entrance to the reception hall. Both thought it was Dr. Markham, and Miss Jade passed from the office to the reception hall, followed by Bisker, who now could hear a car coming down the road from its junction with the highway above the Chalet.

      There entered into the reception hall a man dressed in a grey lounge suit of excellent cut and quality. On observing Miss Jade, he removed his hat and advanced. His face was clean-shaven, and his complexion exceptionally pale. In that white face two dark eyes were emphasised. He uttered the formal “Good morning” with a slight foreign accent. Then he said:

      “I’ve called to see my friend, Mr. Grumman.”

      Miss Jade now had more

Скачать книгу