A Connoisseur's Case by Michael Innes Read Free Book Online Page A

opportunity for chat. Just a civil but unpausing good day.’
    This forecast proved to be correct. The stranger – who, although in country tweeds, did give the impression of being a professional man not far from his job – brushed past the Applebys on the narrow path with only a curt greeting.
    â€˜There you are,’ Appleby said, when they were out of hearing. ‘He wouldn’t – would he? – recognize us again if he saw us. The look he gave us was just that sort of look. Projecting upon us , you know, what he’d like to think held of himself. A simple and very common psychological mechanism.’
    â€˜John, for pity’s sake! Don’t be such a bore .’ Judith didn’t, in fact, look at all bored. She was amused. ‘You mean he’d like to think we might see him again tomorrow and not know him from Adam?’
    â€˜Just that.’
    â€˜This mystery-mongering is beyond me. Thank heavens it comes on you only in spasms.’
    â€˜Very well. And now for Mr and Mrs Bertram Coulson.’
    â€˜Seth Crabtree didn’t mention Bertram Coulson’s having a wife.’
    â€˜No – but then, for Seth Crabtree, there has been only one woman in the world. Barring, that is, the girl who wasn’t interested in the barge he carved for her. Only the Mrs Coulson, the Grand Collector, counts with him. Incidentally, we didn’t gather if she had a husband in Seth’s time. But, as I say, now for Mr and Mrs Bertram Coulson and the children.’
    â€˜Children?’
    â€˜I see no reason why Scroop House shouldn’t be normally accommodated in that way. Instead of seed cake and Madeira, a jolly family tea. And here’s the lock. Just be careful getting across the gate. It’s slippery. And, as I said before, if you go in, it won’t be easy to get you out. Or to get help, for that matter. It’s an uncommonly lonely spot.’
    â€˜Why are men so fond of telling women to be careful?’ As she spoke, Judith was examining the lock gates. ‘You know, they haven’t the look of being kept in any sort of repair. And yet I think they could be made to open. And the ones at the other end, too.’
    â€˜That’s so.’ Putting a hand lightly on an insecure and rotting breast rail, Appleby peered down into the lock, as he had done on their outward walk. ‘Hullo! Something seems to have come to the surface.’ He stiffened. ‘Judith – are you across?’
    Judith laughed. ‘Yes, John. Safe on the bank, thank you.’
    â€˜Then I can tell you something rather shocking. I’m afraid it’s a body.’ He paused. ‘It’s Seth Crabtree,’ he said quietly.

 
    Â 
4
    Judith came back at once and stood beside Appleby on the gate. She was pale, but she looked down steadily at the inert form in the lock. It lay prone, so that the face was invisible. But the clothes were certainly Crabtree’s. And Crabtree’s battered old hat floated nearby.
    â€˜John – do you think he’s dead?’
    â€˜It looks like that, I’m afraid. But I must get down and see. Perhaps we can revive him.’
    As he spoke, Appleby got to his knees on the gate, lowered himself over its edge, dropped to the full stretch of his arms, and then let himself fall. It wasn’t a particularly hazardous operation, but it was a messy one. He expected a good deal of mud beneath the few feet of water, and there was in fact enough of it to suck in an ugly way at his legs as he strove to retain his balance after the drop. Laboriously, he waded the few feet that separated him from the body.
    â€˜Face submerged,’ he called up to Judith. ‘He’s suspended somehow – or sprawled on a snag of some sort. No – it’s his coat that has caught on the hinge of the gate. That’s prevented him from going right under. There may be some hope. I think I can turn him over.’ He bent over