The Mind of Mr. J. G. Reeder by Edgar Wallace Read Free Book Online Page A

floor and Bride slipped the chisel underneath.
    ‘Now together,’ grunted Lew.
    They got their fingers beneath the hearthstone and with one heave hinged it up. Lew picked up the torch and flashed a light into that dark cavity. And then: ‘Oh, my God!’ he shrieked.
    A second later two terrified men rushed from the house into the drive. And a miracle had happened, for the gates were open and a dark figure stood squarely before them.
    ‘Put up your hands, Kohl!’ said a voice, and hateful as it was to Lew Kohl, he could have fallen on the neck of Mr Reeder.
    At twelve o’clock that night Sir James Tithermite was discussing matters with his bride-to-be: the stupidity of her lawyer, who wished to safeguard her fortune, and his own cleverness and foresight in securing complete freedom of action for the girl who was to be his wife.
    ‘These blackguards think of nothing but their fees,’ he began, when his footman came in unannounced, and behind him the Chief Constable of the county and a man he remembered seeing before.
    ‘Sir James Tithermite?’ said the Chief Constable unnecessarily, for he knew Sir James very well.
    ‘Yes, Colonel, what is it?’ asked the baronet, his face twitching.
    ‘I am taking you into custody on a charge of wilfully murdering your wife, Eleanor Mary Tithermite.’
     
    ‘The whole thing turned upon the question of whether Lady Tithermite was a good or a bad sailor,’ explained J G Reeder to his chief. ‘If she were a bad sailor, it was unlikely that she would be on the ship, even for five minutes, without calling for the stewardess. The stewardess did not see her ladyship, nor did anybody on board, for the simple reason that she was not on board! She was murdered within the grounds of the Manor; her body was buried beneath the hearthstone of the old lodge, and Sir James continued his journey by car to Dover, handing over his packages to a porter and telling him to take them to his cabin before he returned to put the car into the hotel garage. He had timed his arrival so that he passed on board with a crowd of passengers from the boat train, and nobody knew whether he was alone or whether he was accompanied and, for the matter of that, nobody cared. The purser gave him his key, and he put the luggage, including his wife’s hat, into the cabin, paid the porter and dismissed him. Officially, Lady Tithermite was on board for he surrendered her ticket to the collector and received her landing voucher. And then he discovered she had disappeared. The ship was searched, but of course the unfortunate lady was not found. As I remarked before–’
    ‘You have a criminal mind,’ said the Director good-humouredly. ‘Go on, Reeder.’
    ‘Having this queer and objectionable trait, I saw how very simple a matter it was to give the illusion that the lady was on board, and I decided that, if the murder was committed, it must have been within a few miles of the house. And then the local builder told me that he had given Sir James a lesson in the art of mixing mortar. And the local ironmonger told me that the gate had been damaged, presumably by Sir James’ car – I had seen the broken rods and all I wanted to know was when the repairs were effected. That she was beneath the hearth in the lodge I was certain. Without a search warrant it was impossible to prove or disprove my theory, and I myself could not conduct a private investigation without risking the reputation of our department – if I may say “our”,’ he said apologetically.
    The Director was thoughtful.
    ‘Of course, you induced this man Kohl to dig up the hearth by pretending you had money buried there. I presume you revealed that fact in your notebook? But why on earth did he imagine that you had a hidden treasure?’
    Mr Reeder smiled sadly.
    ‘The criminal mind is a peculiar thing,’ he said, with a sigh. ‘It harbours illusions and fairy stories. Fortunately, I understand that mind. As I have often said–’
     

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