魔手30

II

As we were going home Joanna told me that I ought not to have repeatedwhat Nash said about letters coming.

“Why not?”

“Because Mrs. Dane Calthrop might be It.”

“You don’t really believe that!”

“I’m not sure. She’s a queer woman.”

We began our discussion of probables all over again.

It was two nights later that I was coming back in the car from Exhamp-ton. I had had dinner there and then started back and it was already darkbefore I got into Lymstock.

Something was wrong with the car lights, and after slowing up andswitching on and off, I finally got out to see what I could do. I was sometime fiddling, but I managed to fix them up finally.

The road was quite deserted. Nobody in Lymstock is about after dark.

The first few houses were just ahead, amongst them the ugly gabled build-ing of the Women’s Institute. It loomed up in the dim starlight and some-thing impelled me to go and have a look at it. I don’t know whether I hadcaught a faint glimpse of a stealthy figure flitting through the gate—if so, itmust have been so indeterminate that it did not register in my consciousmind, but I did suddenly feel a kind of overweening curiosity about theplace.

The gate was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open and walked in. A shortpath and four steps led up to the door.

I stood there a moment hesitating. What was I really doing there? Ididn’t know, and then, suddenly, just near at hand, I caught the sound of arustle. It sounded like a woman’s dress. I took a sharp turn and wentround the corner of the building towards where the sound had comefrom.

I couldn’t see anybody. I went on and again turned a corner. I was at theback of the house now and suddenly I saw, only two feet away from me,an open window.

I crept up to it and listened. I could hear nothing, but somehow or otherI felt convinced that there was someone inside.

My back wasn’t too good for acrobatics as yet, but I managed to hoistmyself up and drop over the sill inside. I made rather a noise unfortu-nately.

I stood just inside the window listening. Then I walked forward, myhands outstretched. I heard then the faintest sound ahead of me to myright.

I had a torch in my pocket and I switched it on.

Immediately a low, sharp voice said: “Put that out.”

I obeyed instantly, for in that brief second I had recognized Superin-tendent Nash.

I felt him take my arm and propel me through a door and into a pas-sage. Here, where there was no window to betray our presence to anyoneoutside, he switched on a lamp and looked at me more in sorrow than inanger.

“You would have to butt in just that minute, Mr. Burton.”

“Sorry,” I apologized. “But I got a hunch that I was on to something.”

“And so you were probably. Did you see anyone?”

I hesitated. “I’m not sure,” I said slowly. “I’ve got a vague feeling I sawsomeone sneak in through the front gate but I didn’t really see anyone.

Then I heard a rustle round the side of the house.”

Nash nodded.

“That’s right. Somebody came round the house before you. They hesit-ated by the window, then went on quickly—heard you, I expect.”

I apologized again. “What’s the big idea?” I asked.

Nash said:

“I’m banking on the fact that an anonymous letter writer can’t stop writ-ing letters. She may know it’s dangerous, but she’ll have to do it. It’s like acraving for drink or drugs.”

I nodded.

“Now you see, Mr. Burton, I fancy whoever it is will want to keep the let-ters looking the same as much as possible. She’s got the cut-out pages ofthat book, and can go on using letters and words cut out of them. But theenvelopes present a difficulty. She’ll want to type them on the same ma-chine. She can’t risk using another typewriter or her own handwriting.”

“Do you really think she’ll go on with the game?” I asked incredulously.

“Yes, I do. And I’ll bet you anything you like she’s full of confidence.

They’re always vain as hell, these people! Well, then, I figured out thatwhoever it was would come to the Institute after dark so as to get at thetypewriter.”

“Miss Ginch,” I said.

“Maybe.”

“You don’t know yet?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you suspect?”

“Yes. But somebody’s very cunning, Mr. Burton. Somebody knows allthe tricks of the game.”

I could imagine some of the network that Nash had spread abroad. I hadno doubt that every letter written by a suspect and posted or left by handwas immediately inspected. Sooner or later the criminal would slip up,would grow careless.

For the third time I apologized for my zealous and unwanted presence.

“Oh well,” said Nash philosophically. “It can’t be helped. Better luck nexttime.”

I went out into the night. A dim figure was standing beside my car. Tomy astonishment I recognized Megan.

“Hallo!” she said. “I thought this was your car. What have you been do-ing?”

“What are you doing is much more to the point?” I said.

“I’m out for a walk. I like walking at night. Nobody stops you and sayssilly things, and I like the stars, and things smell better, and everydaythings look all mysterious.”

“All of that I grant you freely,” I said. “But only cats and witches walk inthe dark. They’ll wonder about you at home.”

“No, they won’t. They never wonder where I am or what I’m doing.”

“How are you getting on?” I asked.

“All right, I suppose.”

“Miss Holland look after you and all that?”

“Elsie’s all right. She can’t help being a perfect fool.”

“Unkind—but probably true,” I said. “Hop in and I’ll drive you home.”

It was not quite true that Megan was never missed.

Symmington was standing on the doorstep as we drove up.

He peered towards us. “Hallo, is Megan there?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’ve brought her home.”

Symmington said sharply:

“You mustn’t go off like this without telling us, Megan. Miss Holland hasbeen quite worried about you.”

Megan muttered something and went past him into the house. Sym-mington sighed.

“A grown-up girl is a great responsibility with no mother to look afterher. She’s too old for school, I suppose.”

He looked towards me rather suspiciously.

“I suppose you took her for a drive?”

I thought it best to leave it like that.

 

分享到：