Down Under by Patricia Wentworth Read Free Book Online

feeling that everything had slowed down. It was like being part of a slow motion picture—thought, speech, action, all dragging intolerably—moments lengthened into hours—time stretching, sagging—
    He said, “Will you tell me exactly what happened—anything you saw—anything you noticed—every single thing you can remember.”
    George scratched his head, and then remembered that this was one of the things which offended Ellen. He said hastily,
    â€œWell, sir, I didn’t notice much, that’s the truth.”
    â€œShe got out of the train?”
    â€œWell, I didn’t see her get out, but she must ha’ done, because she come along the platform.”
    â€œWhere were you standing?”
    â€œBy the booking-office door.”
    â€œYou mean the door between the platform and the booking office?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œSo you could see along the platform?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œHow far away was she when you saw her?”
    George put up his hand to scratch again, but desisted in time.
    â€œWell, sir, I couldn’t say. I wasn’t taking notice, and that’s the truth.”
    â€œWas she the only passenger who got off?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œWell, when did you notice her?” said Oliver. “You told the Inspector you noticed the green hat.”
    George leaned on his fork.
    â€œWell, sir, it was this way. First of all I didn’t think there was anyone getting off, and I began thinking about something else. And then there was the young lady as if she was going to push past without giving up her ticket, so I said, ‘Ticket please,’ and she turned round to get the light and started rummaging in her bag.”
    â€œWait a minute,” said Oliver. “You say she turned round to get the light. What light was that, and where was it?”
    â€œThe lamp out on the platform, sir.”
    â€œShow me how you were standing, and where the lamp would be.”
    George showed him, sticking his fork upright in the ground and retreating half a dozen yards.
    â€œThat’d be the lamp, and this ’ud be me, and she turned around like that.” He described a curve with his arm.
    â€œSo when she turned round she would be between you and the lamp? Is that it?”
    â€œThat’s right, sir. It’s not a very strong light, sir—lots of complaints about it one way and another.”
    â€œSo you didn’t see her face?”
    â€œNo, sir—I told the Inspector I didn’t.”
    â€œDid you see the colour of her hair?”
    George took time to think about that. Then he said,
    â€œI didn’t notice it, sir.”
    â€œYou say she was rummaging in her bag. What happened then?”
    â€œShe found her ticket, and pushed it at me, and went on quick.”
    â€œWhere did she go?”
    â€œRight across and out at the other door, and got into the car that was waiting there and drove off.”
    â€œDo you mean she drove the car herself?”
    â€œOh, no, sir—there was a gentleman in the car.”
    â€œDid you see him?”
    â€œOh, no, sir.”
    â€œThen how—?”
    â€œI didn’t see him no more than just to know there was someone opened the door of the car, and the young lady got in and slammed it and they went off. That’s all I saw.”
    â€œThen what’s all this about a green hat? Where did you see it?”
    George was on perfectly firm ground. The hat had struck him all of a heap. He liked a good bright bit of colour. Perhaps that was why he liked Ellen.
    â€œOh, that was when she was going out, sir—the brightest green hat I ever seen—right under the booking-office light and no mistake about it. I didn’t see her face, because she was going away from me, but I see her hat all right.”
    There was a pause. George’s hand went down into his trouser pocket. The ten shilling note felt pleasantly crisp. His