Death-Watch by John Dickson Carr Read Free Book Online Page A

glass of bitter and was proud of his home; he might or might not have had those who hated him as George Ames; he was killed for another reason.
    Although his term of service had been as long as Hadley’s, Hadley did not know him well. He said that even after all these years Ames was still hopefully ambitious, and liked to talk of the vacation he would take in Switzerland when he got his next promotion. But he was not of the stuff which gets far ahead; the Yard liked him, Hadley said, but he was not highly intelligent and he was rather too trustful. Put it at a sort of intuitive animal cleverness; he was a bulldog whose tenacity on a tough Limehouse beat had first gained him promotion in the days when Limehouse really was tough—despite his stature being the smallest possible for entrance into the Metropolitan police. But he was trustful, and he died.
    All these things, of course, Hadley did not say when he looked down at Ames dead. He did not comment or even curse. He only told Dr. Watson, who was gabbling under his breath, to go on with the silent work that had to be done; he picked up his briefcase, and walked slowly towards the stairs.
    “Usual routine,” he said to his followers. “You’ll probably recognize who it is, but don’t gossip. I’ll come up there again when you get him out of the way. Meantime—” he beckoned to Dr. Fell and Melson.
    In the lower hall Mrs. Steffins was craning her neck from side to side to peer up the stairs. With one outstretched arm she held back Eleanor, who looked sullen; she was smiling mechanically and charmingly over her shoulder at Eleanor, for its effect on the audience. But when she saw Hadley’s face, wrinkles struck through the china prettiness. She cried out a foolish, wild remark.
    “Is it,” she said, “very bad ?”
    “Very bad,” he told her, brusquely. His expression said that he did not want to be bothered with fools at that particular time. “I must ask you for some assistance. This may be an all-night job. I intend to take over the room upstairs presently. For the moment I want a room— anywhere—where my friends and I can talk.”
    “Well, of course!” she agreed in some eagerness. But there was calculation behind her eyes and she seemed to be wondering how to turn this to her advantage. “And we’re so honoured to have the Dr. Fell in our house, although things are so perfectly horrible and— and all. Aren’t they? Eleanor my dear, I wonder … There’s our sitting-room, but then Johannus is so untidy and it’s so cluttered up with his wheels and works and things. There’d be Miss Handreth’s front room, her office, you know; she’s a solicitor and that would suit you, surely, if she didn’t mind; which of course she wouldn’t …” In the middle of her breathless speech, before they knew what she intended, she had scuttled across and was knocking at the second of the line of doors on the left-hand side.
    “Miss Handreth!” she called, ingratiatingly, applying vigorous knuckles and then applying a delicate ear. “Lucia dear!”
    The door opened instantly, with such suddenness, in fact, that Mrs. Steffins came close to losing her balance. The room behind was dark. In the doorway stood a woman who could be no older (if anything, rather younger) than Eleanor. Her dark hair was down over her shoulders and she shook it back as she looked at them coolly.
    “Er—oh!” said Mrs. Steffins. “Excuse me. I wondered if you were awake, Lucia …”
    “You knew perfectly well I was,” said the other. She spoke in a clear voice, as though everyone were hostile, and as though she were in an uncomfortable position which she defied them to make her feel as uncomfortable. The brown eyes glittered behind long lashes partly lowered. She looked at Hadley, drawing closer her blue dressing-gown. “I presume you will have a doctor here. You had better send him in, please. There’s a man here who may be rather badly hurt.”
    “Lucia!” said Mrs.