Читать книгу The Solution of a Mystery - J. S. Fletcher - Страница 6

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I was in no mood for going to the Black Bull for lunch after that, and, sending out for some bread, cheese, and ale, I sat down to think matters over. In any case, I foresaw a terrible catastrophe for Mr Radford senior, at that time just completing his term of office as Mayor of Ullathwaite, and, as I knew, about to be re-elected for another year. Mr Radford was the leading solicitor of the town—a man of about fifty years of age, a quiet, reserved, eminently respectable (and highly respected) gentleman, who from, I believe, quite humble beginnings had built up a considerable practice. In addition to being Mayor—he had long been on the Town Council as councillor or alderman—he filled various other important posts in the town, and was a county as well as a borough magistrate. He was well-to-do, also; probably quite a wealthy man; early in life, when he was beginning to get on, he had married the daughter of a leading tradesman in Birmingham, a well-educated young woman who at one time had been engaged in teaching, and it was said that she had brought him a very handsome fortune. Mr and Mrs Radford were a sort of model pair; they lived in a beautiful house, of which they were very proud; entertained a good deal, and were popular. They had two children: a girl, Audrey, now aged twenty-one; a boy, Richard, now a year younger. Audrey, educated at Cheltenham and in Paris, was something of a highbrow young lady and was deeply interested in various intellectual movements. But Dick, it was well known, was something of a throw-back. Articled to his father, it was matter of common knowledge that he found it difficult to pass any legal examination; moreover, neither his father nor his mother appeared to be able to exercise any control over him. Without being actually bad or vicious, in the worst sense of the term, he was wild, irresponsible, weak, with tastes for horses, dogs, cards, billiards, and low company. But ... murder? I could scarcely bring myself to believe him capable of that. Still ... there was Fardale’s evidence. And it might be that if he did attack Maidment in order to rob him and so put himself in funds he only meant to stun him while he emptied his pockets. But that, of course, would amount to murder. Anyhow, I saw that I should have to see Dick Radford’s father. Him first; then Dick. And the prospect of seeing the Mayor was by no means pleasant. I determined, however, to get it over at once.

But before I could step across to the Town Hall, where I knew Mr Radford could be found about that time, I had two more visitors. These were shown in to me just as I was finishing my improvised lunch, a young man and a young woman, he of the artisan, she of the servant-maid class. The young man was shy and diffident; the girl seemed confident and assured.

‘Well,’ I said, when I had bidden them be seated. ‘What do you want to see me about?’

The two exchanged glances. It was evident that each wanted the other to begin. But it was the girl who spoke first.

‘It’s about what happened in Hagsdene Wood last night, sir,’ she said. ‘We—you see, we know something.’

‘Oh, you do, do you?’ I said. ‘Well, to begin with, who are you? Give me your names and occupations.’

‘My name’s Ellen Hopkinson, sir,’ replied the girl readily. ‘I’m parlourmaid at Mrs Rivers’s, Hagsdene Park. This is my young man, James Collier—he’s a plumber, at Mr Walker’s. Why don’t you speak for yourself, Jim?’

‘You’re speaking!’ retorted Jim, with a sheepish grin. ‘One’ll do!’

I jotted down the names and looked at the girl.

‘Well, Ellen?’ I said. ‘What is it?’

Ellen looked at Jim.

‘Which is to tell?’ she asked.

‘Go on!’ he answered. ‘You’re readiest at talking. I’m listening.’

‘Well, sir,’ Ellen continued, turning to me. ‘It’s like this. Last night was my night out. I came into town; Jim met me, and we went to his mother’s to supper—that was after we’d had a walk round. Then Jim saw me home. We went through Hagsdene Wood. We stopped a bit by a gate there, talking—it was a bit before my time for going in—and while we were there we saw something that we thought was strange—somebody, that is, that was what you’d call behaving strange.’

‘Yes?’ I said. ‘Who?’

Ellen looked at Jim; Jim looked at the ceiling.

‘I suppose it’s all between ourselves, sir?’ inquired Ellen.

‘Absolutely—at present,’ I answered. ‘This is confidential.’

‘Well, sir, it was young Mr Dick Radford!’ she said. ‘Just him!’

‘You know him well by sight?’ I asked.

‘Ought to!’ she retorted. ‘I lived there, at Mr Radford’s, for two years. I know Mr Dick well enough!’

‘Well—go on, then,’ I said. ‘What did you see last night?’

‘Well, sir, we saw this,’ she continued. ‘There’s a narrow lane runs on the far side of the wood; me and Jim were leaning against a gate there, a gate that opens into the wood. We saw somebody coming along the lane on a bicycle; saw the lamp, some distance off. So—we opened the gate and slipped into the wood, behind the hedge.’

‘Why?’ I asked, inconsequently.

‘Don’t know, sir—we did, anyway,’ she answered. ‘Then the man on the bicycle came up to the gate and got off. He bent over his lamp for a minute; it was then we saw his face and saw who it was—young Mr Dick Radford. He——’

‘Stay a moment,’ I interrupted. I turned to Jim. ‘Did you see him?’

‘I did, sir!’ replied Jim firmly. ‘She’s right!’

‘You know him well by sight?’

‘I do, sir. Ever since he was that height.’

I turned and nodded to Ellen. She went on with her story.

‘He turned out his lamp, sir,’ she said. ‘Then he opened the gate and wheeled the bicycle into the wood. We could just make out that he pushed it between the hedge that separates the wood from the lanes and some bushes that grow just inside. Then he lit a cigarette: we saw his face again, quite clearly. And then he went off into the wood; we heard him for a minute or two.’

‘In which direction?’ I asked.

She hesitated a moment; then she seemed to think of something.

‘Do you know where Mr Hebb lives, sir—the other side of the wood from where we were?’ she asked. ‘Well, he went that way.’

‘You say you heard him for a minute or two? Did things become quiet then?’

‘Yes, sir, perfectly quiet.’

‘What did you two do?’

‘Nipped out of the gate and went on, sir.’

‘To Hagsdene Park?’

‘Yes, sir—to Mrs Rivers’s.’

‘What time was it when you saw Mr Dick Radford?’

‘It would be all about ten o’clock, sir. My time for going in is half-past.’

‘It was ten o’clock,’ remarked Jim stolidly. ‘I heard the town clock.’

‘Did you meet anyone between Hagsdene Wood and Hagsdene Park?’

‘No, sir!’

‘Not Mr Maidment?’

‘We never met anybody, sir.’

‘Did you see or hear anything or anybody as you came back after leaving Ellen, Collier?’ I inquired.

‘Neither heard nor saw anything, sir! I didn’t come back by the wood; I came round by the road,’ replied Jim.

I thought a bit.

‘Have you mentioned all this to anybody?’ I asked.

‘Only to Mrs Rivers, sir. She said to get Jim at once and come to you,’ replied Ellen. ‘Which, of course, we’ve done. Jim not being very willing, though, sir.’

‘Don’t like shoving my nose into other people’s affairs,’ grunted Jim. ‘Not my business, after all. But you would have me come!’

‘All right, my lad,’ I said. ‘No harm done. Now go away—and just keep all this to yourselves for the time being. And you, Ellen, tell your mistress to keep quiet about it. Understand?’

‘I understand, sir,’ said Ellen. ‘But she’s a very reserved lady, Mrs Rivers; she won’t talk, and I shan’t, and Jim—well, you can see for yourself, sir, he’s not a very great hand with his tongue, at any time.’

‘Very excellent characteristic!’ I said. ‘Very well—keep quiet till you hear more from me.’

They went away—Ellen evidently needlessly admonishing Jim to utter silence—and once more I turned to the inevitable. I must see Dick Radford’s father—and at once.