The Problem at Two Tithes (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 7) by Clara Benson

better.’
    ‘I see,’ said Angela. She helped herself to some toast and gazed out of the window. Sunday had been almost unbearably tedious—she had lost count of the number of times she had apologized for the pig incident, although of course it had not been her fault—and she was longing to escape and get some fresh air away from Two Tithes. She wondered wistfully whether the police were swarming around Dead Man’s Path today, hunting for clues. It would be rather fun to help, she thought—although of course she had no right to do so, and indeed would probably be considered a dreadful nuisance if she did turn up. Still, she would certainly escape and go for a walk if she could.
    She was about to take a sip of her tea when her attention was caught by the sight of a tall, gangling young man, sparse of chin and splendid of tooth, who was just then sauntering nonchalantly past the window in a regrettable yellow checked jacket. He skirted a rose-bush and began to walk along the path to the left-hand side of a large pergola.
    ‘Who is that?’ she said. The others looked up.
    ‘I have no idea,’ said Humphrey.
    ‘He’s not from around here, at any rate,’ said Elisabeth. ‘You don’t suppose he’s one of these gawpers, do you? These people who turn up and stare ghoulishly whenever there’s a murder. I’ve heard of them before.’
    ‘He has no business on our grounds,’ said Humphrey, ‘and I shall certainly warn him off.’
    He stood up and was about to leave the room when a second young man sauntered past in the opposite direction, a notebook in his hand and an unlit cigarette protruding from the corner of his mouth. His hat was stuck on his head at a rakish angle and he looked most disreputable. Angela opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. They all watched as the second man skirted the rose-bush and walked along the path to the right-hand side of the pergola, and Angela stifled a laugh at the enormous start he gave when he reached the end and caught sight of the first man. The two intruders glared at one another suspiciously for a full minute, then appeared to enter into cautious conversation. The first man said something with a smirk, and the second grimaced and seemed inclined to continue on his way alone, but the first man set off to catch him up and the two of them walked off together in what looked like a state of uneasy truce.
    ‘Well!’ said Elisabeth, once they were out of sight. ‘Of all the impudence. One would think they owned the place. If you see them again, Humphrey, you must warn them off. We can’t have tourists tramping across the grounds whenever they like just because someone has been killed.’
    ‘They’re not tourists,’ said Angela. ‘I’m rather afraid it’s the press. They must have got wind of the story.’
    ‘The press?’ said Humphrey in dismay. ‘How did they find out about it?’ An awful suspicion began to dawn on him and he drew himself up and regarded his sister sternly. ‘Now, Angela, tell the truth: did you call them?’
    ‘Of course not,’ said Angela in surprise.
    ‘I know you are fond of appearing in the newspapers—’ went on Humphrey.
    ‘No I’m not,’ interjected Angela hurriedly.
    ‘—but I should have thought that a quiet visit to your family was hardly a suitable occasion on which to invite the press to intrude.’
    ‘But I didn’t,’ said Angela. ‘I promise you, I didn’t.’
    ‘Well, then,’ said Humphrey. ‘If you say so, then I suppose I shall have to believe you. But how did they know to come here?’
    ‘They have all kinds of ways of finding things out,’ said Angela. ‘They certainly wouldn’t need me to tell them that someone had been murdered.’
    ‘Then must we really put up with reporters crawling all over the place from now on?’ said Elisabeth.
    ‘I’m afraid we must,’ said Angela. She looked out of the window again, wanting to go out and join in the fun, even though she knew nobody would