The Middle of Things | Page 6

number seven in Markendale Square, close by Mr. Viner there. I've heard that he came from the Colonies."
"Do you know him," asked the inspector, turning to Viner.
"Only by sight," answered Viner. "I've seen him often, but I didn't know his name. I believe he has a wife and daughter--"
"No sir," interrupted the policeman. "He was a single gentleman. The young lady at number seven is his ward, and the older lady looked after her--sort of a companion."
The Inspector looked round. Other policemen, attracted by the whistle, were coming into the passage at each end, and he turned to his sergeant.
"Put a man at the top and another at the bottom of this passage," he said. "Keep everybody out. Send for the divisional surgeon. Dr. Cortelyon, will you see him when he comes along? I want him to see the body before its removal. Now, then, about these ladies--they'll have to be told." He turned to Viner. "I understand you live close by them?" he asked. "Perhaps you'll go there with me?"
Viner nodded; and the inspector, after giving a few more words of instruction to the sergeant, motioned him to follow; together they went down the passage into Markendale Square.
"Been resident here long, Mr. Viner?" asked the Inspector as they emerged. "I noticed that some of my men knew you. I've only recently come into this part myself."
"Fifteen years," answered Viner.
"Do you know anything of this dead man?"
"Nothing--not so much as your constable knows."
"Policemen pick things up. These ladies, now? It's a most unpleasant thing to have to go and break news like this. You know nothing about them, sir?"
"Not even as much as your man knew. I've seen them often--with him, the dead man. There's an elderly lady and a younger one, a mere girl. I took them for his wife and daughter. But you heard what your man said."
"Well, whatever they are, they've got to be told. I'd be obliged if you'd come with me. And then--that fellow you saw running away! You'll have to give us as near a description of him as you can. What number did my man say it was--seven?"
Viner suddenly laid a hand on his companion's sleeve. A smart car, of the sort let out on hire from the more pretentious automobile establishments, had just come round the corner and was being pulled up at the door of a house in whose porticoed front hung a brilliant lamp.
"That's number seven," said Viner. "And--those are the two ladies."
The Inspector stopped and watched. The door of the house opened, letting a further flood of light on the broad step beneath the portico and on the pavement beyond; the door of the car opened too, and a girl stepped out, and for a second or two stood in the full glare of the lamps. She was a slender, lissome young creature, gowned in white, and muffled to the throat in an opera cloak out of which a fresh, girlish face, bright in colour, sparkling of eye, crowned by a mass of hair of the tint of dead gold, showed clearly ere she rapidly crossed to the open door. After her came an elderly, well-preserved woman in an elaborate evening toilette, the personification of the precise and conventional chaperon. The door closed; the car drove away; the Inspector turned to Viner with a shake of his head.
"Just home from the theatre!" he said. "And--to hear this! Well, it's got to be done, Mr. Viner, anyhow."
Viner, who had often observed the girl whom they had just seen with an interest for which he had never troubled to account, found himself wishing that Miss Penkridge was there in his place. He did not know what part he was to play, what he was to do or say; worse than that, he did not know if the girl in whose presence he would certainly find himself within a minute or two was very fond of the man whom he had just found done to death. In that case--but here his musings were cut short by the fact that the Inspector had touched the bell in the portico of number seven, and that the door had opened, to reveal a smart and wondering parlour-maid, who glanced with surprise at the inspector's uniform.
"Hush! This is Mr. Ashton's?" said the Inspector. "Yes--well, now, what is the name of the lady--the elderly lady--I saw come in just now? Keep quiet, there's a good girl,--the fact is, Mr. Ashton's had an accident, and I want to see that lady."
"Mrs. Killenhall," answered the parlour-maid.
"And the young lady--her name?" asked the Inspector.
"Miss Wickham."
The Inspector walked inside the house.
"Just ask Mrs. Killenhall and Miss Wickham if they'll be good enough to see Inspector Drillford for a few minutes," he said. Then, as the girl closed the door and turned