Death in the Tunnel by Miles Burton Read Free Book Online Page A

quarter to five he had ordered a taxi to be sent for, and had told the man to drive him to Cannon Street Station.
    â€œA taxi!” exclaimed Torrance, who obviously heard this for the first time. “I never knew him do that before. He wasn’t ill, or anything? You’re sure of that?”
    â€œThere didn’t seem to me to be anything the matter with him,” replied the assistant secretary. “And I’ve known him, man and boy, for the last forty years and more.”
    â€œThat’s peculiar,” said Torrance. “As you know, inspector, it’s only a few hundred yards from here to Cannon Street. Sir Wilfred always walked it, whatever the weather was like. I’ve never known him take a taxi before. It’s most unlike him. And now, perhaps, you’d like to come and see his room?”
    Arnold agreed, and they went along the passage to a door which Torrance opened with a key. “It’s always kept locked,” he explained. “Sir Wilfred had one key, Mr. Richard another, and I have the third. The only person who has been in here since Sir Wilfred left yesterday afternoon is myself. I came in this morning to see if he had left any message for me. But, finding there was none, I touched nothing, and came out at once. That was before I heard of Sir Wilfred’s death.”
    â€œHow did the news reach you, Mr. Torrance?” Arnold asked.
    â€œMiss Olivia Saxonby telephoned to the office about ten o’clock this morning. She said that her uncle had been found shot in the train. Of course, I asked her for particulars, but she said that she knew no more, but from what she had heard she gathered that he had committed suicide.”
    Arnold made no comment upon this, but he wondered what grounds Miss Olivia could have had for her opinion, as early as ten o’clock that morning. Then he remembered that Sir Wilfred’s car had been waiting for him at Stourford Station. No doubt the chauffeur had gleaned such scraps of information as were available, and had carried them to Mavis Court.
    He turned his attention to the room, thickly carpeted and luxuriously furnished. The most conspicuous feature was a heavy mahogany table, upon which stood a couple of letter trays, holding a few sheets of correspondence. Beside the table was a waste-paper basket, holding a few fragments of torn letters.
    â€œI wonder if you would mind looking for the letter from Mrs. Wardour, Mr. Torrance?” said Arnold.
    Torrance ran through the trays, then turned his attention to the waste-paper basket. “I can’t see any signs of it, or of the envelope, for that matter,” he reported at last. “I dare say Sir Wilfred put it in his pocket and took it home with him. The rest of this stuff is of no importance, but perhaps you’d like to look through it?”
    Arnold did so, without discovering anything that could throw light upon Sir Wilfred’s death. Half a dozen letters upon indifferent subjects, as many appeals for subscriptions to various charities. Nor were the carbon copies of the letters dictated by Sir Wilfred on the previous day any more informative.
    There was a large filing-cabinet in the room, and Arnold pointed to this. “What’s in there?” he asked.
    Torrance shook his head. “I don’t know,” he replied. “It’s locked, and Sir Wilfred is the only person who had a key to it. I have an idea that he used to put his personal letters in it.”
    The front of the cabinet was closed by a sliding shutter, fitted with a lock. In order to demonstrate his words, Torrance went up to it, and tried to raise the shutter. “Well, I’m damned!” he exclaimed. “It isn’t locked, after all! That’s the most extraordinary thing. There certainly must have been something on Sir Wilfred’s mind yesterday. I’ve never before known him to leave this cabinet unlocked.”
    â€œWell, we may as well see