The Postmasters Daughter | Page 5

importance which enveloped the policeman; he sensed a certain
uneasiness in Bates; he even noted that the stretcher was part of the
stock in trade of Hobbs, the local butcher, and ordinarily bore the
carcase of a well-fed pig.
These details were helpful. Naturally, Bates had explained his errand,
and the law, in the person of the policeman, was prepared for all
eventualities.
"This is a bad business, Mr. Grant," began the policeman, producing a
note-book, and moistening the tip of a lead pencil with his tongue.
Being a Sussex man, he used the same phrase as Bates. In fact, Grant
was greeted by it a score of times that day.
"Yes," agreed Grant. "I had better tell you that I have recognized the
poor lady. Her name is Adelaide Melhuish. Her residence is in the
Regent's Park district of London."
Robinson, the policeman, permitted himself to look surprised. He was,
in fact, rather annoyed. Bates's story had prepared him for a first-rate
detective mystery. It was irritating to have one of its leading features
cleared up so promptly.
"Oh," he said, drawing a line under the last entry in the note-book, and
writing the date and hour in heavy characters beneath. "Married or
single?"
"Married, but separated from her husband when last I had news of her."
"And when was that, sir?"
"Nearly three years ago."

"And you have not seen her since?"
"No."
"You didn't see her last night?"
Grant positively started, but he looked at the policeman squarely.
"It is strange you should ask me that," he said. "Last night, while
searching for a book, I saw a face at the window. It was that window,"
and four pairs of eyes followed his pointing finger. "The face, I now
believe, was that of the dead woman. At the moment, as it vanished
instantly, I persuaded myself that I was the victim of some trick of the
imagination. Still, I opened the other window, looked out and listened,
but heard or saw nothing or no one. As I say, I fancied I had imagined
that which was not. Now I know I was wrong."
"About what o'clock would this be, Mr. Grant?"
"Shortly before eleven. I came in at a quarter past ten, and began to
work. After writing steadily for a little more than half an hour, I wanted
to consult a book, and lighted a candle which I keep for that purpose. I
found the book, and was about to blow out the candle when I saw the
face."
Robinson wrote in his note-book:--
"Called to The Hollies to investigate case of supposed murder. Body of
woman found in river. Mr. Grant, occupying The Hollies, says that
woman's name is Adelaide Melhuish"--at this point he paused to
ascertain the spelling--"and he saw her face at a window of the house at
10.45 P.M., last night."
"Well, sir, and what next?" he went on.
"It seems to me that the next thing is to have the unfortunate lady
removed to some more suitable place than the river bank," said Grant,
rather impatiently. "My story can wait, and so can Bates's. He knows

all that I know, and has probably told you already how we came to
discover the body. You can see for yourself that she must have been
murdered. It is an extraordinary, I may even say a phenomenal crime,
which certainly cannot be investigated here and now. I advise you to
have the body taken to the village mortuary, or such other place as
serves local needs in that respect, and summon a doctor. Then, if you
and an inspector will call here, I'll give you all the information I
possess, which is very little, I may add."
Robinson began solemnly to jot down a summary of Grant's words, and
thereby stirred the owner of The Hollies to a fury which was repressed
with difficulty. Realizing, however, the absolute folly of expressing any
resentment, Grant turned, and, without meaning it, looked again in the
direction of the cottage on the crest of the opposite bank. This time a
girl was leaning out of the dormer window. She had shaded her eyes
with a hand, because the sun was streaming into her face, but when she
saw that Grant was looking her way she waved a handkerchief.
He fluttered his own blood-stained handkerchief in brief
acknowledgment, and wheeled about, only to find P. C. Robinson
watching him furtively, having suspended his note-taking for the
purpose.
CHAPTER II
P.C. ROBINSON "TAKES A LINE"
"It will help me a lot, sir," he said, "if you tell me now what you know
about this matter. If, as seems more than likely, murder has been done,
I don't want to lose a minute in starting my inquiries. In a case of this