In the Teeth of the Evidence by Dorothy L. Sayers Read Free Book Online Page A

conservatory door.’
        ‘Oh, yes – that’s the way I came tonight. He’d take cover in the garden and would know when Uncle William went into the dining-room, because he’d see the library light go out. Remember, he knew the household. He came in, in the dark, locking the outer door after him, and waited by the telephone until Neville’s call came through from London. When the bell stopped ringing, he lifted the receiver in the library. As soon as Neville had spoken his little piece, Harcourt chipped in. Nobody could hear him through these sound-proof doors, and Hamworthy couldn’t possibly tell that his voice wasn’t coming from London. In fact, it was coming from London, because, as the phones are connected in parallel, it could only come by way of the Exchange. At eight o’clock, the grandfather clock in Jermyn Street struck – further proof that the London line was open. The minute Harcourt heard that, he called on Neville to speak again, and hung up under cover of the rattle of Neville’s receiver. Then Neville detained Hamworthy with a lot of rot about a suit, while Harcourt walked into the dining-room, stabbed his uncle, and departed by the window. He had five good minutes in which to hurry back to his car and drive off – and Hamworthy and Payne actually gave him a few minutes more by suspecting and hampering one another.’
        ‘Why didn’t he go back through the library and conservatory?’
        ‘He hoped everybody would think that the murderer had come in by the window. In the meantime, Neville left London at 8.20 in Harcourt’s car, carefully drawing the attention of a policeman and a garage man to the licence number as he passed through Welwyn. At an appointed place outside Welwyn he met Harcourt, primed him with his little story about tail-lights, and changed cars with him. Neville returned to town with the hired bus; Harcourt came back here with his own car. But I’m afraid you’ll have a little difficulty in finding the weapon and the duplicate key and Harcourt’s blood-stained gloves and coat. Neville probably took them back, and they may be anywhere. There’s a good, big river in London.’

A SHOT AT GOAL
    A Montague Egg Story
    A workman put in his head at the door of the Saloon Bar.
        ‘Is Mr Robbins here?’
        The stout gentleman who was discussing football with Mr Montague Egg turned at the sound of his name.
        ‘Yes? Oh, it’s Warren. What is it, Warren?’
        ‘A note, sir. Handed in at the Mills just after you left. As it was marked “Urgent” I thought I’d best bring it down. I’d have took it up to the house, sir, only they told me in the town as you’d stepped in to the Eagle.’
        ‘Thanks,’ said Mr Robbins. ‘Urgent only to the sender, I expect, as usual.’ He tore open the envelope and glanced at the message, and his face changed. ‘Who brought this?’
        ‘I couldn’t say, sir. It was pushed in through the letter-flap in the gate.’
        ‘Ah, very good. Thank you, Warren.’
        The workman withdrew, and Mr Robbins said, after a moment’s thought:
        ‘If Mr Edgar should look in, Bowles, will you tell him I’ve changed my mind and gone back to the Mill, and I’ll be glad if he’d come and see me there, before he goes up to the house.’
        ‘Right you are, sir.’
        ‘I’ll take a few sandwiches with me. There’s a bit of work I want to put in, and it may keep me.’
        Mr Bowles obligingly put up the sandwiches into a parcel, and Mr Robbins departed, with a brief ‘Goodnight, all.’
        ‘That’s the general manager up at the Mills,’ observed Mr Bowles. ‘Been here five years now. Takes a great interest in the town. He’s a member of the Football Committee.’
        ‘So I gathered,’ said Mr Egg.
        ‘I see you’re keen on the game,’ went on the landlord.
        ‘In a business capacity,’ replied Mr Egg, ‘I’m keen on whatever the gentleman I’m