Читать книгу Crime at Christmas - C. H. B. Kitchin - Страница 9
ОглавлениеChristmas Day—Dawn
I slept very soundly till an hour or so before dawn, and then dozed, becoming with each spell of wakefulness a little more conscious of discomfort in my right arm. By about half past seven I was in possession of my senses, and somewhat restless. The doctor had left the window-curtains pulled together the night before, thus violating one of my habits, and I got out of bed to let the daylight in. It was a very misty morning and apart from a few gaunt trees near the window I could see nothing of the garden. Then suddenly I noticed, on the extreme right of my piece of balcony, a most peculiar shape resting obliquely against the railings. The top end was hidden from my view by a pillar which jutted out from the wall, but the end which rested on the stone floor looked like a bundle of underclothes. Very slowly I came to realize that it was a body.
I have sometimes wondered what my feelings would be on finding a body, and how much revulsion and horror the discovery would bring. In this instance I felt nothing but bewilderment and the wish to make further investigations. I tried the handle of the french window, but it was too stiff for me to open with my left hand. Then I paused irresolutely.
Clearly I needed Dr. Green, and it was inadvisable that anyone else should share my knowledge till he had the situation in hand. I pulled down the blind again, got into bed and rang the bell. It was answered by Edwins, the footman.
“Will you go to Dr. Green, please,” I said, “and tell him that I should like to see him at once. It’s most urgent. No, don’t bother about the blind. Go straight to the doctor, will you?”
He went out in some surprise, and in a few minutes I heard the doctor’s self-important footsteps echoing in the passage.
“Well,” he said rather impatiently, “what’s the trouble? Can’t you give me time to dress in peace?”
He was wearing shirt, trousers and a dressing-gown.
“I haven’t asked you to come and see me,” I said, as he approached the bed. “There’s a body on the balcony, and I can’t open the window to get at it.”
He looked at me in amazement.
“Have you been having nightmares, young man?”
“It’s quite true. I went to the window to pull up the blind, and saw——”
As I spoke, he went to the window himself, pulled up the blind, gave a guttural cry, opened the window and walked through it. After a moment’s indecision I got out of bed and threw a dressing-gown round my shoulders. As the doctor re-entered the room, carrying the human bundle, I said, “Ought you to have disturbed the position——”
“Good Lord,” he answered, “you’re living in a detective story. I can’t make my examination while the patient’s feet are tangled in the balcony railings, can I? I’ve got to be sure, first, that it is a corpse I’m handling. I am sure, as a matter of fact, though an ordinary doctor wouldn’t be. Keep away now. It isn’t a pretty sight, and I can’t do with you in hysterics. Get back to bed and look the other way.”
He put the body on the floor beside the fireplace, and without waiting to see the face I did as I was told.
“It’s Mrs. Harley,” he said. “Broken neck. Dead.”
“Oh, dear. I suppose she must have walked——”
“In her sleep. Yes! I’ll telephone for their imbecile family doctor first, and then we’ll go to her room, if you will accompany me. You’re on guard now. You won’t scream if I lock you in for a minute or two? I’ll cover it with this.”
He pulled down my bedclothes, ripped off the sheet, and put it over the body. Then he took the key, went out and locked the door.
It was perhaps fortunate that it was early in the morning; for at such an hour my emotions are rarely acute. While shaving, I can forget even that I am in love. My chief feeling, I think, was one of annoyance. There we were, all gathered together for a Christmas party, and plunged suddenly into gloom and the menace of official inquiry. “This time, at least,” I thought, with the memory of my aunt’s violent death in my mind, “it devolves on others to bear the burden of the arrangements. I can still be a petted invalid, inquisitive, importunate. And, of course, an accident is very different from murder. Unless perhaps it is suicide?”
Poor Mrs. Harley—and her poor son, too. What a sad homecoming it would be for him after the night of high finance!
The key turned and the doctor came in again.
“I routed McKenzie out and he’ll be here in half an hour. Meanwhile, shall we go upstairs?”
He helped me to put on my dressing-gown properly, opened the door, and locked it when we had left the room.
“Do you know which her room was?” I asked.
He looked at me sharply.
“Of course I do. I had to take her a sedative last night. She was jumping about like an electric flea, poor woman. I thought I made it strong enough to give her eight hours’ good sleep.”
“Mine wore off before seven,” I said.
“Perhaps the prescription was not quite up to strength.”
“Can you walk in your sleep after taking a sleeping-draught?”
“It depends on the draught. After a mild one such as that which I administered, it is quite possible—though unusual.”
“In any case, I thought sleep-walkers never came to any harm.”
“That is an old wives’ tale.”
“How long has she been dead?”
He looked apprehensively at the landing above and below.
“Sh! not so loud. After exposure to the cold, like that, I cannot say. Not more than eight hours, and not less than two. No doubt the good Dr. McKenzie will be more precise in his verdict. Here we are.”
Mrs. Harley’s room was immediately over mine, though it was larger and had two french windows, one corresponding to mine, and one to the right, over the drawing-room. This second window was wide open, and gave access to a very broad sill with low metal bars on the far side, which might have held a big window-box in position.
“Did she sleep with her window open?” I asked.
“I suppose she must have done. I presume she slept, and we know she went to bed.”
He pointed to the tumbled bedclothes, partially thrown aside, and the dented pillow. I looked round the room. On the mantelpiece was a photograph of the dead woman’s son, in a leather frame. Her poor little evening dress and under-linen lay on a chair, while a quilted dressing-gown hung from one of the bed-posts. The sadness of the scene began to affect me, and so that the doctor should not see my distress I walked over to the window and looked out.
The garden was some fifty feet below me. If one jumped from the window, I thought, one might just clear the balcony outside my room. If one fell, one would be caught by it, impaled possibly on one of the spikes. Had Mrs. Harley been impaled? I shuddered, partly at so painful an idea, and partly with cold, and was returning to the bed, when I was struck by the contrast between the fresh air outside and the air of the room.
“Well?” said the doctor, as I sniffed.
“Do you smell anything?” I asked.
“No. Do you?”
“Yes—something a little odd. My sense of smell is very acute.”
“All your senses are very acute.”
I was beginning to glow at the compliment when he went on, “That’s partly what makes you such a nervy fellow. There’s nothing to be said for hyperæsthesia, let me tell you.”
“At all events,” I replied, somewhat testily, “it seems to give me an advantage over you now. The smell is like—like, chloroform or ether—some medical smell.”
The doctor grinned wickedly. “Allow me to congratulate you, Mr. Warren, upon a most important discovery! Perhaps, however, I am more familiar with ladies’ bedrooms and their habits than you are. What you smell—I confess I can’t smell it, but no doubt you’re right—is Antaronyl, or a similar preparation.” He then gave me a gross explanation of the uses to which Antaronyl could be put, and concluded, “I’ve no doubt we shall find a bottle among the poor lady’s effects, but I suppose we had better not derange them. Meanwhile, it is extremely cold and I am more than a little hungry. If you will go to my room, I will see to your arm and help you to dress. Then I will complete my own toilet. By that time Dr. McKenzie should be here, or breakfast should be upon the table. Hurry up now, before the whole house is astir.”
He pushed me out of the room across the passage, and into his room which was immediately opposite and faced the road.
“Now,” he said, “you stay here in patience till I come back. I’ll lock Mrs. Harley’s room and fetch your clothes. There’s a bathroom through this door. If you like to use it, you can, but you’ll find it hard to soap yourself with one hand.”
It was very true, and while the doctor was performing his errands about the house, I was only able to give myself a most ineffectual wash. I was drying myself in cold discomfort when I heard him come back.
“Sorry,” he said through the door. “I’d valet you if I had time. As it is, I’ve got to dress myself and rub your arm before this doctor of theirs comes on the scene. Now! Sit down there, and let me see the damage.”
He removed the bandage, and I was delighted to find that his patting and probing caused very little pain, while after a few minutes’ massage, I felt almost as if I could bend my wrist again.
“I’ll put back the bandage,” he said, “anyhow for to-day. And you must wear a sling for a bit. I don’t mind your moving the fingers, but be careful not to ...”
There was a knock at the door and Edwins, the footman, came in.
“If you please, sir, Dr. McKenzie’s waiting below. I showed him into the dining-room because the fire’s going well there.”
“Right! I will go to him at once. No, you stay and help Mr. Warren to dress. Mr. Warren had an accident while dancing in the drawing-room last night. I want you to fix him up with a sling. Do you know how to do it?”
“Yes, sir. Had to wear one myself once.”
“Most excellent.”
He gave me a nod and went out. For a while Edwins helped me without speaking. Then, finding my silence unbearable, he said suddenly, “Not a very merry start for Christmas, is it, sir?”
“Good heavens,” I answered. “I’d quite forgotten that it was Christmas Day.”
“Had the poor lady’s accident anything to do with yours, sir, if I may ask?”
“No, absolutely nothing. I’m afraid I don’t feel at liberty to speak about it for the present.”
“Sorry, sir. I don’t wish to be inquisitive, but the door of your room being locked, and Dr. Green telephoning for Dr. McKenzie almost as soon as I’d asked him to come to see you——”
“What did Dr. Green tell you?” I asked in as masterful a tone as I was able to assume.
“He said that Mrs. Harley had met with a serious accident, and that he must get hold of the family physician as soon as he could.”
“Yes,” I said vaguely, “that is all perfectly correct. And now about breakfast? I suppose nobody else is up yet?”
“Nor likely to be, sir, I think. The mistress has her breakfast in bed, and Miss Sheila’s always a late riser. Both Miss Amabel and Mr. Dixon have got the cards on their doors.”
“The cards?”
“You know, sir, like they have in hotels: ‘Don’t disturb me till noon’—‘Ne derangy par’ it used to be at Deauville. I was in service there for a season, and there were cards almost permanent on all the bedroom doors.”
“Miss Amabel and Mr. Dixon,” I murmured.
“The master and Mr. Harley are breakfasting in town, sir.”
“Oh, of course they are.” I had quite forgotten the deal in Harrington Cobalts. “So that accounts for everybody.”
“Oh, there’s Mr. Clarence. I don’t quite know what he’s doing.”
The man spoke as if Mr. Clarence were of very small consequence. “But if you would like breakfast, sir, it should be ready now, if you care to go down. I can then fix you up with a sling from the master’s silk scarves in the hall cupboard.”
He paused in the act of trying to brush my hair.
“Oh, I’ll brush it myself somehow afterwards. Let me have breakfast first. I hope the doctors aren’t still in the dining-room.”
My fears on that score were soon relieved, for I heard the sound of their voices coming from my bedroom, as we passed it on our way downstairs. In the hall Edwins equipped me with a creditable sling, and then conducted me to a chair by the dining-room fire, where I sat while he went to fetch my breakfast.
