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23 chapters
The Red House Mystery
The Red House Mystery
TO JOHN VINE MILNE My dear Father, Like all really nice people, you have a weakness for detective stories, and feel that there are not enough of them. So, after all that you have done for me, the least that I can do for you is to write you one. Here it is: with more gratitude and affection than I can well put down here. A.A.M....
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CHAPTER I. Mrs. Stevens is Frightened
CHAPTER I. Mrs. Stevens is Frightened
In the drowsy heat of the summer afternoon the Red House was taking its siesta. There was a lazy murmur of bees in the flower-borders, a gentle cooing of pigeons in the tops of the elms. From distant lawns came the whir of a mowing-machine, that most restful of all country sounds; making ease the sweeter in that it is taken while others are working. It was the hour when even those whose business it is to attend to the wants of others have a moment or two for themselves. In the housekeeper’s room
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CHAPTER II. Mr. Gillingham Gets Out at the Wrong Station
CHAPTER II. Mr. Gillingham Gets Out at the Wrong Station
Whether Mark Ablett was a bore or not depended on the point of view, but it may be said at once that he never bored his company on the subject of his early life. However, stories get about. There is always somebody who knows. It was understood—and this, anyhow, on Mark’s own authority—that his father had been a country clergyman. It was said that, as a boy, Mark had attracted the notice, and patronage, of some rich old spinster of the neighbourhood, who had paid for his education, both at school
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CHAPTER III. Two Men and a Body
CHAPTER III. Two Men and a Body
Cayley looked round suddenly at the voice. “Can I help?” said Antony politely. “Something’s happened,” said Cayley. He was breathing quickly. “I heard a shot—it sounded like a shot—I was in the library. A loud bang—I didn’t know what it was. And the door’s locked.” He rattled the handle again, and shook it. “Open the door! ” he cried. “I say, Mark, what is it? Open the door!” “But he must have locked the door on purpose,” said Antony. “So why should he open it just because you ask him to?” Cayle
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CHAPTER IV. The Brother from Australia
CHAPTER IV. The Brother from Australia
Guests at the Red House were allowed to do what they liked within reason—the reasonableness or otherwise of it being decided by Mark. But when once they (or Mark) had made up their minds as to what they wanted to do, the plan had to be kept. Mrs. Calladine, who knew this little weakness of their host’s, resisted, therefore, the suggestion of Bill that they should have a second round in the afternoon, and drive home comfortably after tea. The other golfers were willing enough, but Mrs. Calladine,
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CHAPTER V. Mr. Gillingham Chooses a New Profession
CHAPTER V. Mr. Gillingham Chooses a New Profession
As Cayley went over to the bell, Antony got up and moved to the door. “Well, you won’t want me, I suppose, inspector,” he said. “No, thank you, Mr. Gillingham. You’ll be about, of course?” “Oh, yes.” The inspector hesitated. “I think, Mr. Cayley, it would be better if I saw the servants alone. You know what they are; the more people about, the more they get alarmed. I expect I can get at the truth better by myself.” “Oh, quite so. In fact, I was going to ask you to excuse me. I feel rather respo
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CHAPTER VI. Outside Or Inside?
CHAPTER VI. Outside Or Inside?
The guests had said good-bye to Cayley, according to their different manner. The Major, gruff and simple: “If you want me, command me. Anything I can do—Good-bye”; Betty, silently sympathetic, with everything in her large eyes which she was too much overawed to tell; Mrs. Calladine, protesting that she did not know what to say, but apparently finding plenty; and Miss Norris, crowding so much into one despairing gesture that Cayley’s unvarying “Thank you very much” might have been taken this time
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CHAPTER VII. Portrait of a Gentleman
CHAPTER VII. Portrait of a Gentleman
They walked in silence for a little, until they had left the house and gardens well behind them. In front of them and to the right the park dipped and then rose slowly, shutting out the rest of the world. A thick belt of trees on the left divided them from the main road. “Ever been here before?” said Antony suddenly. “Oh, rather. Dozens of times.” “I meant just here—where we are now. Or do you stay indoors and play billiards all the time?” “Oh Lord, no!” “Well, tennis and things. So many people
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CHAPTER VIII. “Do You Follow Me, Watson?”
CHAPTER VIII. “Do You Follow Me, Watson?”
Antony’s bedroom looked over the park at the back of the house. The blinds were not yet drawn while he was changing his clothes for dinner, and at various stages of undress he would pause and gaze out of the window, sometimes smiling to himself, sometimes frowning, as he turned over in his mind all the strange things that he had seen that day. He was sitting on his bed, in shirt and trousers, absently smoothing down his thick black hair with his brushes, when Bill shouted an “Hallo!” through the
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CHAPTER IX. Possibilities of a Croquet Set
CHAPTER IX. Possibilities of a Croquet Set
“What’s the matter?” said Bill sharply. Antony looked round at him with raised eyebrows. “You’ve thought of something suddenly,” said Bill. “What is it?” Antony laughed. “My dear Watson,” he said, “you aren’t supposed to be as clever as this.” “Oh, you can’t take me in!” “No.... Well, I was wondering about this ghost of yours, Bill. It seems to me—” “Oh, that! ” Bill was profoundly disappointed. “What on earth has the ghost got to do with it?” “I don’t know,” said Antony apologetically. “I don’t
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CHAPTER X. Mr. Gillingham Talks Nonsense
CHAPTER X. Mr. Gillingham Talks Nonsense
Antony came down in a very good humour to breakfast next morning, and found that his host was before him. Cayley looked up from his letters and nodded. “Any word of Mr. Ablett—of Mark?” said Antony, as he poured out his coffee. “No. The inspector wants to drag the lake this afternoon.” “Oh! Is there a lake?” There was just the flicker of a smile on Cayley’s face, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. “Well, it’s really a pond,” he said, “but it was called ‘the lake.’” “By Mark,” thought Anto
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CHAPTER XI. The Reverend Theodore Ussher
CHAPTER XI. The Reverend Theodore Ussher
“There’s one thing, which we have got to realize at once,” said Antony, “and that is that if we don’t find it easily, we shan’t find it at all.” “You mean that we shan’t have time?” “Neither time nor opportunity. Which is rather a consoling thought to a lazy person like me.” “But it makes it much harder, if we can’t really look properly.” “Harder to find, yes, but so much easier to look. For instance, the passage might begin in Cayley’s bedroom. Well, now we know that it doesn’t.” “We don’t know
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CHAPTER XII. A Shadow on the Wall
CHAPTER XII. A Shadow on the Wall
In the twenty hours or so at his disposal Inspector Birch had been busy. He had telegraphed to London a complete description of Mark in the brown flannel suit which he had last been seen wearing; he had made inquiries at Stanton as to whether anybody answering to this description had been seen leaving by the 4.20; and though the evidence which had been volunteered to him had been inconclusive, it made it possible that Mark had indeed caught that train, and had arrived in London before the police
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CHAPTER XIII. The Open Window
CHAPTER XIII. The Open Window
Anthony’s first thought was that Cayley had hidden something; something, perhaps, which he had found by the body, and—but that was absurd. In the time at his disposal, he could have done no more than put it away in a drawer, where it would be much more open to discovery by Antony than if he had kept it in his pocket. In any case he would have removed it by this time, and hidden it in some more secret place. Besides, why in this case bother about shutting the door? Bill pulled open a drawer in th
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CHAPTER XIV. Mr. Beverley Qualifies for the Stage
CHAPTER XIV. Mr. Beverley Qualifies for the Stage
Bill had come back, and had reported, rather breathless, that Cayley was still at the pond. “But I don’t think they’re getting up much except mud,” he said. “I ran most of the way back so as to give us as much time as possible.” Antony nodded. “Well, come along, then,” he said. “The sooner, the quicker.” They stood in front of the row of sermons. Antony took down the Reverend Theodore Ussher’s famous volume, and felt for the spring. Bill pulled. The shelves swung open towards them. “By Jove!” sa
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CHAPTER XV. Mrs. Norbury Confides in Dear Mr. Gillingham
CHAPTER XV. Mrs. Norbury Confides in Dear Mr. Gillingham
They left the road, and took the path across the fields which sloped gently downwards towards Jallands. Antony was silent, and since it is difficult to keep up a conversation with a silent man for any length of time, Bill had dropped into silence too. Or rather, he hummed to himself, hit at thistles in the grass with his stick and made uncomfortable noises with his pipe. But he noticed that his companion kept looking back over his shoulder, almost as if he wanted to remember for a future occasio
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CHAPTER XVI. Getting Ready for the Night
CHAPTER XVI. Getting Ready for the Night
What was it which Cayley was going to hide in that pond that night? Antony thought that he knew now. It was Mark’s body. From the beginning he had seen this answer coming and had drawn back from it. For, if Mark had been killed, it seemed such a cold-blooded killing. Was Cayley equal to it? Bill would have said “No,” but that was because he had had breakfast with Cayley, and lunch with him, and dinner with him; had ragged him and played games with him. Bill would have said “No,” because Bill wou
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CHAPTER XVII. Mr. Beverley Takes the Water
CHAPTER XVII. Mr. Beverley Takes the Water
Cayley seemed very fond of them that night. After dinner was over, he suggested a stroll outside. They walked up and down the gravel in front of the house, saying very little to each other, until Bill could stand it no longer. For the last twenty turns he had been slowing down hopefully each time they came to the door, but the hint had always been lost on his companions, and each time another turn had been taken. But in the end he had been firm. “What about a little billiards?” he said, shaking
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CHAPTER XVIII. Guess-work
CHAPTER XVIII. Guess-work
The inquest was at three o’clock; thereafter Antony could have no claim on the hospitality of the Red House. By ten o’clock his bag was packed, and waiting to be taken to ‘The George.’ To Bill, coming upstairs after a more prolonged breakfast, this early morning bustle was a little surprising. “What’s the hurry?” he asked. “None. But we don’t want to come back here after the inquest. Get your packing over now and then we can have the morning to ourselves.” “Righto.” He turned to go to his room,
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CHAPTER XIX. The Inquest
CHAPTER XIX. The Inquest
The Coroner, having made a few commonplace remarks as to the terrible nature of the tragedy which they had come to investigate that afternoon, proceeded to outline the case to the jury. Witnesses would be called to identify the deceased as Robert Ablett, the brother of the owner of the Red House, Mark Ablett. It would be shown that he was something of a ne’er-do-well, who had spent most of his life in Australia, and that he had announced, in what might almost be called a threatening letter, his
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CHAPTER XX. Mr. Beverley is Tactful
CHAPTER XX. Mr. Beverley is Tactful
The inquest had been held at the “Lamb” at Stanton; at Stanton Robert Ablett was to be buried next day. Bill waited about outside for his friend, wondering where he had gone. Then, realizing that Cayley would be coming out to his car directly, and that a farewell talk with Cayley would be a little embarrassing, he wandered round to the yard at the back of the inn, lit a cigarette, and stood surveying a torn and weather-beaten poster on the stable wall. “GRAND THEATRICAL ENTER” it announced, to t
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CHAPTER XXI. Cayley’s Apology
CHAPTER XXI. Cayley’s Apology
“My Dear Mr. Gillingham, “I gather from your letter that you have made certain discoveries which you may feel it your duty to communicate to the police, and that in this case my arrest on a charge of murder would inevitably follow. Why, in these circumstances, you should give me such ample warning of your intentions I do not understand, unless it is that you are not wholly out of sympathy with me. But whether or not you sympathize, at any rate you will want to know—and I want you to know—the exa
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CHAPTER XXII. Mr. Beverley Moves On
CHAPTER XXII. Mr. Beverley Moves On
“Good Lord!” said Bill, as he put down the letter. “I thought you’d say that,” murmured Antony. “Tony, do you mean to say that you knew all this?” “I guessed some of it. I didn’t quite know all of it, of course.” “Good Lord!” said Bill again, and returned to the letter. In a moment he was looking up again. “What did you write to him? Was that last night? After I’d gone into Stanton?” “Yes.” “What did you say? That you’d discovered that Mark was Robert?” “Yes. At least I said that this morning I
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