Part 4 (2/2)

The situation was absurd, but very unpleasant. I did not like to go back to bed till the constable had made his appearance, since he would probably wake the whole household if there was no one there. I felt that my old friend Beef had been given the luck of what might be another big case, and was mis-handling it badly. I was in a sour and angry mood as I waited in that bare room with the corpse of young Rogers for company.

But it was not long before, on going to the window, I saw a young policeman striding down the road. I opened the window again, relieved to find that there was a momentary lull in the rain. I found myself looking at a young, rather handsome, fellow, with the build and features of a boxer.

Sergeant Beef sent me round, sir, he said.

Good. And I told him what had happened.

He grinned pleasantly, and one could not imagine that he had just been called from his sleep to face this unpleasant night.

That's all right, sir, he said. I'll carry on! You go back to bed.

Which, gladly enough, I did.

CHAPTER V.

I AWOKE next morning to find that the rain had ceased and the wind dropped. There was even a feeble attempt at winter sunlight. But when I got down to breakfast, I found Mrs. Simmons walking about on tip-toe, and speaking in whispers. It seemed that she wished to be conscious of a corpse in the house.

Sergeant Beef arrived about ten o'clock, looking very dejected.

Well? I asked him as I emptied my last cup of tea, and lit a cigarette.

I've been on to 'em, he said, and only got it in the neck for my trouble. It seems as this isn't regarded as anythink out of the way. I got to trace young Rogers's movements yesterday, and find out 'oo 'e's done for.

I rather thought that view might be taken, I said. It seemed to me last night that you were getting worked up too soon. After all, it was only yesterday that the murder happened. The corpse must come to light. How could he have got rid of it otherwise? Or else you'll , hear who's missing.

P'raps you're right. I 'ope so, anyway. On'y there's several things I don't like about the 'ole business. Why didn't young Rogers say 'oo it was 'e'd murdered? 'E'd decided to confess and then poison 'isself. It would 'ave 'een just as easy for 'im to 'ave said, 'I've killed so-and-so,' as to 'ave just said 'e'd committed a murder, wouldn't it?

Well, if it turns out to be his aunt, it's understandable. That would have been too much for him to have admitted.

I don't believe it was his aunt, some'ow. Anyway, she's due in on the eleven-fifteen, and I'm going down to the station to see if she turns up.

I'll come with you, I said.

Only last night I had decided to get back to London, and escape the investigation of this all too sordid affair. But after my nocturnal part in it, I couldn't somehow. My curiosity was thoroughly aroused.

We set out from the Mitre and walked through the busy central street of the little town. The Sergeant answered greetings in an almost surly mannerhe was noticeably out of spirits. His liver, I fancied, was not always in the best of conditions during the early morning, and to-day he had not had enough sleep. I glanced aside and saw that his expression was glum, his eyes a trifle bloodshot, and the fringes of his ginger moustache were damp.

On the platform was little Mr. Rogers, pacing impatiently up and down. There were still ten minutes before the train was due, so that he must have arrived early. I thought he looked shabby and pathetic, and he was too preoccupied to notice that he had stepped in a puddle at the further end of the platform. He had not seen us, and Sergeant Beef avoided him, as he made directly for the refreshment room, which had just opened.

Wot you g't'ave . . . he asked me.

I had only just finished breakfast, but Beef swallowed a beer gratefully.

That's better! he sighed, as he laid down the gla.s.s.

We went out on to the platform again to see the train approaching from the distance. By the time we reached Mr. Rogers its noise was loud enough to drown his absently mumbled good morning. But before it had stopped we saw a plump, smiling, middle-aged woman waving to him from the window of a third-cla.s.s carriage.

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