Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 8, 2025
"I first made a search at the rooms occupied by Krevin Crood in Little Bailey Gate. I there found in an old writing-case kept in his bedroom a quantity of papers and documents in the handwriting of the late Mayor, Mr. Wallingford. I handed these over to Superintendent Hawthwaite. I now produce them. There are fifty-six separate papers in all. I have gone through them carefully.
Hawthwaite, with one of his plain-clothes men, came striding in, saw Brent and closed the door, shutting out the parlour-maid. "Gone?" he asked sharply. "They say out for a bicycle ride," answered Brent, purposely affecting unconcern. "Went out very early this morning." "What did you come here for?" demanded Hawthwaite. "To ask her personally if what Krevin Crood said is true!" replied Brent.
Of course the murderer got up to the Mayor's Parlour that way and got away by the same means. You're as far off as ever, Hawthwaite, and it's a pity you wasted time on that jealousy business. I watched Wellesley closely, and I believe that he spoke the truth when he said that whatever there might have been there was no jealousy about Mrs. Saumarez between him and Wallingford at the end.
"They're both tending to elderliness, I think," interrupted Brent, with a cynical laugh, "but one's never surprised at anything nowadays. So, did you see any love-making?" "Oh, Lord save us, no!" exclaimed Hawthwaite. "Nothing of that sort! They never even shook hands. Just talked and very earnestly too." Brent reflected for a while. "Queer!" he said at last. "What did they want with each other?"
Brent!" he exclaimed. "No idea you were here, sir. My profound sympathy, Mr. Brent! Dear, dear! what a truly terrible affair!" Then, his professional instincts getting the better of him, he turned on Hawthwaite, at the same time pulling out a note-book. "What are the details, Mr. Superintendent?" he asked. "I just met one of your officers, going for Dr.
Superintendent Hawthwaite has been in communication with me privately about this matter for some little time. I came to Hathelsborough yesterday, and in the afternoon he and I visited the tower and I showed him the secret way and the doors in the panelling. We passed from the tower into the Mayor's Parlour as you or anyone may, just now, if you know the secret of the sliding panels."
"The interview, then, was a secret one?" "Precisely! Secret; private; confidential." "And you flatly refuse to give us the caller's name?" "Flatly!" Meeking hesitated a moment. Then, with a sudden gesture, as though he washed his hands of the whole episode, he dropped back into his seat, bundled his papers together, and made some evidently cynical remark to Hawthwaite who sat near to him.
Before he could say anything further, Hawthwaite rose from his seat and making his way to him exchanged a few whispered remarks with him. Presently the Coroner nodded, as if in assent to some suggestions. "Oh, very well," he said. "Then perhaps we'd better have her at once. Call what's her name, did you say? Oh, yes Sarah Jane Spizey!"
Perhaps, as Hawthwaite had remarked, it all helped, but as far as Brent could see it was still difficult to lay hold of a continuous and unbroken line. It puzzled him, being still a stranger to the habits and customs of these people, to see that life in Hathelsborough went on, amidst all these alarums and excursions, very much as usual.
But had this sudden retreat anything to do with Mrs. Mallett's evidence at the inquest. He was speculating on this when he got a request from Hawthwaite to go round at once to his office. He responded immediately, to find the superintendent closeted with Dr. Wellesley. Before ever Brent dropped into the chair to which Hawthwaite silently pointed him, he knew that he was about to hear revelations.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking