The Dusky Hour by E.R. Punshon Read Free Book Online

by seeing if you can identify the body.” None of them had expressed any such readiness, but the colonel beamed gratefully upon them all the same. “Such a difference,” he explained, “in police work when we get readiness to help instead of hostility – not that hostility means consciousness of guilt. It may be just a dislike to getting mixed up in such things. But this case may have developments. The American police are inquiring about a man they believe to be over here. He is said to be an Englishman, but he has been mixed up with New York gangsters – got away with a good deal of coin, apparently.”
    â€œYou think this Bennett – if that is his name – may turn out to be him?” asked Mr. Larson.
    â€œPossibly,” agreed the colonel, “or – again possibly – he may be an associate come over to renew acquaintance and not very welcome. Or there may be no connection at all. We’ve got to dig all that up.”
    In the background, Bobby shut his notebook with a sigh. He had a sudden vision of very long, dull, tedious work, all very likely ending as it began – in doubt and questioning.
    â€œWell, I don’t suppose any of us will be able to help,” grumbled Mr. Moffatt. “Annoying business altogether. Plenty of people have visited America; nothing in that. Hayes, for instance, at Way Side. He made his money over there. And his housekeeper is American, I think.”
    â€œNo, she comes from Liverpool,” Ena interposed. “She told me so. Besides, she’s left.”
    The colonel looked interested and Bobby opened his notebook again.
    â€œDo you know her name?” he asked.
    â€œMrs. O’Brien,” Ena answered. “Laddy, Mr. Hayes calls her – I don’t know what her first name is really.”
    â€œWhat makes you say she’s left?” Mr. Moffatt asked. “It’s all over the village,” Ena answered, beginning to laugh a little. “She got a lovely new hat down from one of the London shops yesterday, and she was so pleased with it she made the maids admire it and then she put it on to call at the Vicarage. It was one of those smart new three-cornered pointed hats – awfully stylish – but she’s a big woman, and quite old, and a big face, and I expect it did look a bit odd. When Mr. Hayes saw it he began to laugh, and she was wild and tore it off and jumped on it, and he laughed more than ever, so she boxed his ears or something, and then he was furious, too – I expect it hurt – and he turned her out of the house then and there. She caught the last train to London.”
    â€œWhen was all this?” Colonel Warden asked.
    â€œLast night. It was all they were talking about in the village this morning; the servants had been telling everyone,” Ena explained. “I expect they’re all talking about – about this poor man now.”
    â€œVery likely,” agreed the colonel, and Reeves came back into the room.
    â€œBeg pardon, sir,” he said. “Mr. Oliver’s not in the studio and we can’t find him in the house. I think he must have gone out.”

CHAPTER 5
THE MISSING AUTOMATIC
    It was a clear, bright night, moon and stars shining from an unclouded sky, and, as Colonel Warden and Bobby walked down the Sevens drive to where their car waited, the chief constable said slowly:
    â€œWell, now, what do you think of all that?”
    â€œNothing much to go on yet, sir,” Bobby answered cautiously.
    â€œAll seem tied up with the U.S.,” observed the colonel discontentedly.
    â€œYes, sir,” agreed Bobby. “That’s one line connecting the dead man with Sevens. It seems Mr. Hayes has been in business over there, too.”
    â€œWe had better go on to his place now,” the colonel decided, “and see if he can tell us anything. He had better see the body, too. He may know it.”
    Bobby thought to himself that