LITMIR.BIZ

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house at about two o’clock and go along to the village and the bus stop. This someone then deliberately takes the hatchet that was lying by the woodshed, smashes the kitchen window with it, gets into the house, goes upstairs, attacks Mrs Lansquenet with the hatchet – and attacks her savagely. Six or eight blows were struck.’ Mr Entwhistle flinched – ‘Oh, yes, quite a brutal crime. Then the intruder pulls out a few drawers, scoops up a few trinkets – worth perhaps a tenner in all, and clears off.’

      ‘She was in bed?’

      ‘Yes. It seems she returned late from the North the night before, exhausted and very excited. She’d come into some legacy as I understand?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘She slept very badly and woke with a terrible headache. She had several cups of tea and took some dope for her head and then told Miss Gilchrist not to disturb her till lunch-time. She felt no better and decided to take two sleeping pills. She then sent Miss Gilchrist into Reading by the bus to change some library books. She’d have been drowsy, if not already asleep, when this man broke in. He could have taken what he wanted by means of threats, or he could easily have gagged her. A hatchet, deliberately taken up with him from outside, seems excessive.’

      ‘He may just have meant to threaten her with it,’ Mr Entwhistle suggested. ‘If she showed fight then –’

      ‘According to the medical evidence there is no sign that she did. Everything seems to show that she was lying on her side sleeping peacefully when she was attacked.’

      Mr Entwhistle shifted uneasily in his chair. ‘One does hear of these brutal and rather senseless murders,’ he pointed out.

      ‘Oh yes, yes, that’s probably what it will turn out to be. There’s an alert out, of course, for any suspicious character. Nobody local is concerned, we’re pretty sure of that. The locals are all accounted for satisfactorily. Most people are at work at that time of day. Of course her cottage is up a lane outside the village proper. Anyone could get there easily without being seen. There’s a maze of lanes all round the village. It was a fine morning and there has been no rain for some days, so there aren’t any distinctive car tracks to go by – in case anyone came by car.’

      ‘You think someone came by car?’ Mr Entwhistle asked sharply.

      The Inspector shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t know. All I’m saying is there are curious features about the case. These, for instance –’ He shoved across his desk a handful of things – a trefoil-shaped brooch with small pearls, a brooch set with amethysts, a small string of pearls, and a garnet bracelet.

      ‘Those are the things that were taken from her jewel box. They were found just outside the house shoved into a bush.’

      ‘Yes – yes, that is rather curious. Perhaps if her assailant was frightened at what he had done –’

      ‘Quite. But he would probably then have left them upstairs in her room . . . Of course a panic may have come over him between the bedroom and the front gate.’

      Mr Entwhistle said quietly:

      ‘Or they may, as you are suggesting, have only been taken as a blind.’

      ‘Yes, several possibilities . . . Of course this Gilchrist woman may have done it. Two women living alone together – you never know what quarrels or resentments or passions may have been aroused. Oh yes, we’re taking that possibility into consideration as well. But it doesn’t seem very likely. From all accounts they were on quite amicable terms.’ He paused before going on. ‘According to you, nobody stands to gain by Mrs Lansquenet’s death?’

      The lawyer shifted uneasily.

      ‘I didn’t quite say that.’

      Inspector Morton looked up sharply. ‘I thought you said that Mrs Lansquenet’s source of income was an allowance made to her by her brother and that as far as you knew she had no property or means of her own.’

      ‘That is so. Her husband died a bankrupt, and from what I knew of her as a girl and since, I should be surprised if she had ever saved or accumulated any money.

      ‘The cottage itself is rented, not her own, and the few sticks of furniture aren’t anything to write home about, even in these days. Some spurious “cottage oak” and some arty painted stuff. Whoever she’s left them to won’t gain much – if she’s made a will, that is to say.’

      Mr Entwhistle shook his head.

      ‘I know nothing about her will. I had not seen her for many years, you must understand.’

      ‘Then, what exactly did you mean just now? You had something in mind, I think?’

      ‘Yes. Yes, I did. I wished to be strictly accurate.’

      ‘Were you referring to the legacy you mentioned? The one that her brother left her? Had she the power to dispose of that by will?’

      ‘No, not in the sense you mean. She had no power to dispose of the capital. Now that she is dead, it will be divided amongst the five other beneficiaries of Richard Abernethie’s will. That is what I meant. All five of them will benefit automatically by her death.’

      The Inspector looked disappointed.

      ‘Oh, I thought we were on to something. Well, there certainly seems no motive there for anyone to come and swipe her with a hatchet. Looks as though it’s some chap with a screw loose – one of these adolescent criminals, perhaps – a lot of them about. And then he lost his nerve and bushed the trinkets and ran . . . Yes, it must be that. Unless it’s the highly respectable Miss Gilchrist, and I must say that seems unlikely.’

      ‘When did she find the body?’

      ‘Not until just about five o’clock. She came back from Reading by the 4.50 bus. She arrived back at the cottage, let herself in by the front door, and went into the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea. There was no sound from Mrs Lansquenet’s room, but Miss Gilchrist assumed that she was still sleeping. Then Miss Gilchrist noticed the kitchen window; the glass was all over the floor. Even then, she thought at first it might have been done by a boy with a ball or a catapult. She went upstairs and peeped very gently into Mrs Lansquenet’s room to see if she were asleep or if she was ready for some tea. Then of course, she let loose, shrieked, and rushed down the lane to the nearest neighbour. Her story seems perfectly consistent and there was no trace of blood in her room or in the bathroom, or on her clothes. No. I don’t think Miss Gilchrist had anything to do with it. The doctor got there at half-past five. He puts the time of death not later than four-thirty – and probably much nearer two o’clock, so it looks as though whoever it was, was hanging round waiting for Miss Gilchrist to leave the cottage.’

      The lawyer’s face twitched slightly. Inspector Morton went on: ‘You’ll be going to see Miss Gilchrist, I suppose?’

      ‘I thought of doing so.’

      ‘I should be glad if you would. She’s told us, I think, everything that she can, but you never know. Sometimes, in conversation, some point or other may crop up. She’s a trifle old maidish – but quite a sensible, practical woman – and she’s really been most helpful and efficient.’

      He paused and then said:

      ‘The body’s at the mortuary. If you would like to see it –’

      Mr Entwhistle assented, though with no enthusiasm.

      Some few minutes later he stood looking down at the mortal remains of Cora Lansquenet. She had been savagely attacked and the henna dyed fringe was clotted and stiffened with blood. Mr Entwhistle’s lips tightened and he looked away queasily.

      Poor little Cora. How eager she had been the day before yesterday to know whether her brother had left her anything. What rosy anticipations she must have had of the future. What a lot of silly things she could have done – and enjoyed doing – with the money.

      Poor Cora . . . How short a time those anticipations had lasted.

      No

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