A Blunt Instrument

A Blunt Instrument by Georgette Heyer Read Free Book Online Page A

Book: A Blunt Instrument by Georgette Heyer Read Free Book Online
Authors: Georgette Heyer
here! We have known him for so many years that I always say he is more like a friend than a solicitor, though of course there is no reason why he shouldn't be both, as indeed I hope he feels he is. It was particularly foolish of me, because it is just the sort of thing he would know."
    "What is it, Miss Fletcher?" asked Hannasyde, breaking into the gentle flow of words.
    "Well, it's the reporters," she confided. "Poor things, one knows they have their living to earn, and it must be very disagreeable work, when one comes to think of it, and one doesn't want to be unkind -'
    "Are they worrying you?" interrupted Hannasyde. "All you have to do is to tell your butler to say that you have no statement to make."
    "It seems so very disobliging," she said doubtfully. "And one of them looks dreadfully under-nourished. At the same time, I should very much dislike to see my photograph in the papers."
    "Of course. The less you say to them the better, Miss Fletcher."
    "Well, that's what I thought," she said. "Only my nephew is so naughty about it. It's only his fun, but you never know how much people will believe, do you? I suppose you wouldn't just hint to him that he oughtn't to do it? I feel that what you said would carry more weight than what I say."
    "What's he been up to?" asked Hannasyde.
    "Well, he's told one of the reporters that he's employed here as the Boots, and when the man asked him his name he said it was Crippen, only he didn't want it to be known."
    Hannasyde chuckled. "I don't think I should worry very much about that, Miss Fletcher."
    "Yes, but he told another of them that he came from Yugoslavia, and was here on very secret business. In fact, he's in the front garden now, telling three of them a ridiculous story about international intrigue, and my brother at the back of it. And they're taking it down in their notebooks. Neville's such a marvellous actor, and of course he speaks Serbian, from having travelled in the Balkans. But I don't think he ought to deceive those poor men, do you?"
    "No, I don't," said Hannasyde. "It's most unwise to play jokes on the gentlemen of the Press. Hemingway, go and ask Mr. Fletcher if I can have a word with him, will you?"
    "Thank you so much!" said Miss Fletcher gratefully. "Poor Neville, one always has to remember that he hasn't known a mother's love. I feel that accounts for so much, don't you? Not that he isn't a dear boy, of course, and I'm very fond of him, but he is like so many of the young people nowadays, so strangely heartless! Nothing seems to matter to him, not even a thing like this." Her lips trembled; she groped for her handkerchief, and dabbed her eyes with it. "You must forgive me: I was very much attached to my dear brother. It doesn't seem to me as though any of this can really have happened."
    "It must have been a terrible shock to you," said Hannasyde sympathetically.
    "Yes. You see, my brother was such a charming man. Everyone liked him!"
    "So I understand, Miss Fletcher. Yet it seems that he had one enemy at least. Have you no idea who that might be?"
    "Oh, no, no! I can't think of anyone. But - I didn't know all his - friends, Superintendent." She looked up anxiously, but Hannasyde said nothing. "That was one of the things I came to talk to you about," she ventured. "I'm afraid you will think it rather odd of me to mention such things, but I have made up my mind that I ought to."
    "You may be perfectly frank with me, Miss Fletcher," he said encouragingly.
    She fixed her eyes upon a point beyond his shoulder. My brother," she said in a faint voice, "had affairs with - with women."
    Hannasyde nodded.
    "I never inquired into them, and of course he never spoke of them to me, but naturally I knew. In my young days, Superintendent, ladies did not discuss such matters. Nowadays things are different, and young people seem to talk of everything, which I can't help feeling is a pity. It is much better to shut one's eyes to some things, don't you agree? But it has occurred

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