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

to me - I thought it all over during the night - that whoever killed my brother may - may have done so from jealousy."
    "Yes, that is a possibility," Hannasyde said.
    "Yes. Of course, if it was so, it will have to come out. I quite realise that. But if you find it wasn't, or - or fail to discover the man who did it - do you think my brother's - private affairs - need be known?"
    "Certainly not," Hannasyde replied. "I quite understand your feelings in the matter, Miss Fletcher, and I can assure you that I shall respect them as much as I possibly can."
    "So kind!" she sighed. "I have such a dread of the papers printing horrid things about my poor brother - perhaps getting hold of letters. You know the sort of thing I mean, I expect."
    "You need not be afraid of that," he assured her. "There are no such letters as you refer to."
    "Oh, how thankful I am!" she breathed. "You have taken a load off my mind!"
    She got up, as Sergeant Hemingway ushered her nephew into the room, and bestowed a tremulous smile upon the Superintendent. Neville came in talking in his soft, rapid way, and it was plain from Hemingway's strained, appreciative expression that his discourse was of an entertaining nature. When he saw his aunt he broke off in mid-sentence, and recommended her to make no statement to the police except in the presence of her lawyer. Miss Fletcher explained to Hannasyde that this was only his fun, and made her way to the door.
    Neville closed it behind her, saying plaintively: "Of course, I know one has to obey the summons of the Law, but you interrupted me at a most delicate moment, Superintendent."
    "I'm sorry," replied Hannasyde, adding with a gleam of humour in his eye: "International complications?"
    "Yes, I had just worked in a Montenegrin patriot with a knife. The whole story was unfolding itself beautifully, but I've lost the thread now."
    "Take my advice, and don't try to fool the Press. Suppose - though it's improbable - that your International story did get published?"
    "Oh, but I do hope it will!" Neville said. "Really, it's a lovely story, and I've taken pains with it. I don't usually, but old Lawrence seems to think I ought to try to become more earnest. Did you want me for anything in particular? Because if not I'm in the middle of telling your Sergeant about an experience which befell me in Skopje. It isn't exactly a polite story, but I find he has a lovely dirty mind. In fact, we're practically affinities."
    The reminiscent grin which still lingered on the Sergeant's face vanished. A dusky blush mounted into his cheeks, and he gave an imploring cough.
    "I daresay," replied Hannasyde. "But this is hardly the time to indulge in smutty anecdotes, do you think?"
    "Oh, I don't agree with you!" said Neville engagingly.
    "Given the right company, there's no real close season for dirty stories."
    "Tell me, Mr. Fletcher, did you know your uncle well?"
    "I expect it'll save time if I say no," answered Neville. "I can see we are on the verge of talking at cross-purposes."
    "Why?" Hannasyde asked bluntly.
    "Oh, one doesn't know people. Mothers say they know their children through and through. Fallacy. Rather disgusting, too. Indecency inherent in over-probing, and results misleading, and probably disquieting."
    "Oh!" said Hannasyde, who had followed this rapid and telegraphic speech with some difficulty. "I see what you mean, but it doesn't answer my question. As well as one person may know another, did you know your uncle?"
    "No. Interest being the natural forerunner to understanding."
    "You'd none in him?"
    "Nor anyone, "cept objectively. An' I'm not sure of that either. Do you like people?"
    "Don't you?"
    Neville spread his hands out, slightly hunching his thin shoulders. "Oh, some - a little - at a distance."
    "You seem to be an ascetic," said Hannasyde dryly.
    "Hedonist. Personal contacts pleasant at first, but leading to discomfort."
    Hannasyde regarded him frowningly. "You have peculiar ideas, Mr. Fletcher. They're not